Best Reads 2020

2020 was a wild year, but it gave us some incredible books that felt like they understood the chaos. 'The Vanishing Half' by Brit Bennett was one I couldn’t put down—it explores identity, family, and race with such nuance that I found myself thinking about it weeks later. Then there was 'Piranesi' by Susanna Clarke, which felt like stepping into a dream. The way she builds this surreal, labyrinthine world while keeping the emotional core so human blew my mind.

For something lighter but equally gripping, 'Mexican Gothic' by Silvia Moreno-Garcia was my go-to. It’s this perfect blend of horror and historical fiction, with a protagonist who’s both sharp and relatable. And if you’re into non-fiction, 'Hidden Valley Road' by Robert Kolker is a haunting dive into a family’s struggle with schizophrenia, told with such empathy that it stays with you. Honestly, 2020’s silver lining was how many of these books made staying indoors feel like an adventure.

Critics had a lot to say about 2020's standout books, and one title that kept popping up was 'The Vanishing Half' by Brit Bennett. It's this gorgeous, layered story about twin sisters who choose to live in completely different worlds—one embracing her Black identity, the other passing as white. The way Bennett explores race, family, and identity just stuck with me for weeks after reading. Another heavy hitter was 'Hamnet' by Maggie O'Farrell, a fictional take on Shakespeare's son that’s so achingly beautiful, it made me cry in public (no shame).

Then there’s 'Deacon King Kong' by James McBride, which critics praised for its humor and heart. It’s a wild, vibrant ride through 1960s Brooklyn, and the characters feel like people you’ve known forever. On the nonfiction side, 'Hidden Valley Road' by Robert Kolker blew me away with its gripping account of a family grappling with schizophrenia. It’s one of those books that makes you marvel at how truth can be stranger—and more compelling—than fiction.

Looking back at 2020, it was a wild year for books—not just because of the pandemic, but because literature became this escape hatch for so many of us. I remember tearing through 'The Vanishing Half' by Brit Bennett and feeling like it was one of those rare books that could’ve only hit the way it did in that specific moment. Compared to earlier years, 2020’s standout reads had this raw emotional intensity, like they were written for people craving depth and connection.

What’s funny is how 2019 felt more experimental—books like 'Exhalation' by Ted Chiang played with ideas, while 2020’s bestsellers dug into human stories. 'Piranesi' by Susanna Clarke was another gem that blended fantasy with loneliness in a way that mirrored lockdown vibes. It’s not that previous years lacked great books, but 2020’s hits just landed differently—like they were in conversation with the chaos outside.

Back in 2020, the literary world was buzzing with some incredible award-winning reads. One that really stood out to me was 'The Mirror & the Light' by Hilary Mantel, which closed her brilliant Thomas Cromwell trilogy. It didn’t just win accolades—it felt like a cultural moment. Another gem was Maggie O’Farrell’s 'Hamnet,' a hauntingly beautiful take on Shakespeare’s family life that snagged the Women’s Prize for Fiction. Then there’s 'Real Life' by Brandon Taylor, a raw, intimate campus novel that was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. What I loved about these books was how they balanced depth with readability, making award-winning literature feel accessible.

On the nonfiction side, 'Minor Feelings' by Cathy Park Hong was groundbreaking, blending memoir and cultural critique to explore Asian American identity. It won the National Book Critics Circle Award and stayed with me long after I finished it. And let’s not forget 'Deacon King Kong' by James McBride, which won the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award—its mix of humor and heart made it a standout. 2020 was a tough year globally, but these books offered solace and perspective, proving why they deserved those shiny stickers on their covers.

Man, I was just thinking about how strange it is to revisit my reading list from that year. Books like 'The Vanishing Half' and 'Deacon King Kong' were published then, but they felt like escapes from the constant news cycle, not mirrors of it. I read them for their deep human stories, not because they were 'about' 2020. Maybe the reflection is more in our reading habits—I craved big, immersive family sagas and intricate character studies precisely because the world felt so chaotic and confined. My Kindle history from that spring is all doorstopper novels, which says a lot.

That said, some 2020 releases did engage directly with the zeitgeist in a prescient way. 'The Glass Hotel' by Emily St. John Mandel, with its themes of collapse and financial fantasy, landed right as the economy seemed to be teetering. And 'Memorial' by Bryan Washington explored intimacy and chosen family in isolation, which became a universal experience months later. It's less that they were written about the events and more that they suddenly contained a new, unsettling layer of relevance. The must-read lists weren't a direct reflection, but they became a kind of toolkit for processing a year nobody had a manual for.

Summer 2020 was such a weird time—stuck indoors, craving escape—and books were my lifeline. I remember devouring 'The Vanishing Half' by Brit Bennett, which was everywhere that year. The way it explored identity and family secrets felt so timely, like it was written for that exact moment. Another standout was 'Mexican Gothic' by Silvia Moreno-Garcia; that book had me sweating from both the heat and the creepy vibes.

Then there was 'Deacon King Kong' by James McBride, which balanced humor and heartbreak in a way that made it perfect for lazy afternoons. I also couldn’t resist 'The House in the Cerulean Sea' by TJ Klune—it was like a warm hug in book form. Funny how some of these titles still pop up in conversations years later, like they left permanent marks.

I spent way too much time tracking award lists last year, partly out of boredom and partly a weird fascination with what the committees pick. The obvious big ones: 'The Nickel Boys' by Colson Whitehead won the Pulitzer. Stunning book, but honestly it felt like a foregone conclusion even before it was announced. 'Hamnet' by Maggie O'Farrell snagged the Women's Prize for Fiction, which was a relief because I was worried they'd go for something more overtly political. That novel’s texture is its strength—the sensory details about grief and art.

Shout-out to Douglas Stuart’s 'Shuggie Bain' taking the Booker. That one gutted me for days; it’s relentless in its portrayal of poverty and addiction in 80s Glasgow. I noticed a theme across awards: a lot of historical fiction that digs into societal wounds. Even 'Deacon King Kong' by James McBride, which won the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, mixes crime and comedy with a deep look at a 1969 Brooklyn housing project. The awards that year seemed to favor novels with a strong sense of place and time, even if the prose styles varied wildly.

A quieter one I loved was 'Real Life' by Brandon Taylor, shortlisted for the Booker. Didn’t win the big prize, but it nabbed The Story Prize later. Felt like a different breed of award-winner—campus novel, interior, tense.