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Top 20 Books of 2020

My personal favourites that I read during the year!

By Sandra Tena ColePublished 3 years ago Updated 2 years ago 32 min read
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Enjoying the physical copies of some of my favourite books I read over 2020!

Back in 2013 I gave myself the challenge of reading one book a week, which I greatly enjoyed and was able to repeat in 2014, but then life got in the way. I moved from London to Glastonbury, got married, and set up a theatre company with my husband Stephen Cole, His & Hers Theatre Company; for years we have been incredibly busy with performances and modelling, amongst other things, but then everything changed, like it did for most people in the performing industries, with the pandemic. Although we have carried on performing and modelling online, and in person during the months when it was possible, I was also able to read a whopping 54 books, most of which had been on my to-read list for ages, some of which came in as gifts, some of them even written by fellow writer friends.

I also have three books to my name – my paranormal crime thriller Wideawake, my paranormal coming of age story The Shadow Behind, and my short story and flash fiction collection Tales from the Rooftop – and have been an avid reader since the age of 6, so it was only natural that I wrote a list of my favourite 20 books I read in 2020! The first two lists can still be found on my personal blog That Voice in my Head, by the way.

So, onwards with the list!

20. Dune, by Franz Herbert.

Beginning with this absolute jewel of Sci Fi which I’d had in my list for years and just seemed right for a bit of “light reading” now during the pandemic. Not everyone got that I was joking when I announced I was going to read it because I wanted a little bit of light reading after Love in the Times of Cholera (Gabriel García Márquez), but I hope people get it now. In any case, it’s a brilliant piece of writing, fully deserving of its place amongst the classics, and as just as deep as so many people have said for decades. The world building is impressive, and the politics, science, history and religion just brilliantly put together. And it is indeed a complex socio-political critique of or world today, which is ever so slightly perturbing, considering how much time it has passed since it was written.

Needs to be said, as I live in a town full of Covid-deniers and from the beginning of the pandemic they started quoting Dune as their Bible, starting (and often ending) with: “Fear is the mind-killer”, that I fully agree with that statement! Fear is the mind killer, so during a pandemic use your common sense instead of fearing things that are not there (otherwise the very real virus will continue spreading even if you think it’s just a conspiracy), be on your guard and keep a cool head (like Paul and Lady Jessica have to be to survive the makers along the trek through the desert), cover your mouth so that the spread slows down as much as possible (and be thankful that at least we don’t have to cover ourselves up completely with stillsuits, as it’s just a virus that’s the trouble and not a the whole environment of the planet which could potentially kill us – and of course it’s only our own oxygen that we breathe back in with the wearing of the masks, and not our every single bodily fluids via the stillsuit just to survive!), and last but not least, put facts before irrationality, so listen to the experts in each field.

19. Love in the time of Cholera, by Gabriel García Márquez.

Of course I had to read Love in the time of Cholera during the pandemic! Hey, I’m not claiming to be original, I just had put it off for far too long, and with good reason! I know I can’t stomach half the descriptions of illness García Márquez writes, so it took a lot of preparation to get myself to read it – but in the end it was really, truly worth it.

The story itself is incredibly sad, but at the same time it’s also oddly satisfying. I guess the most impressive part of reading it was realising how little times have changed in terms of gender roles, sexual paradigms, consent and abusive patterns in Latin America. Trying to give no spoilers, a lot of what the female characters go through in the book are things that I experienced or saw other women around me experience as a child, a hundred years later, and the way female to male abuse is also described is particularly chilling in how normalised it used to be seen back then, too. Thinking about this also gives A Hundred Years of Solitude a new meaning. The way García Marquez explores life, death and time in the context of love is truly fascinating – and yes, not the other way around: love is the glue that holds every piece together, and life, death and time either have to play by its rules or move along, and it’s not always easy for them. However, people need to understand that it’s not Florentino Ariza’s love for Fermina Daza which is holding it all together, and I can’t really say more without giving full spoilers, but it’s worthwhile delving into it if you want to figure out what love I’m referring to instead.

18. Funny Girl, by Nick Hornby.

And talking about gender roles, stereotypes and sexual paradigms, Funny Girl is a good place to see all of those extremely well represented during the time it’s set, in the sixties, then turned on their heads, shaken up completely, and tossed into the wind to see what falls where. What remains is a funny, sad, inspirational and endearingly complex story about becoming, belonging, and forgiving yourself.

17. Star Island, by Carl Hiaasen.

And then, just like the two books before, Star Island focuses on gender norms and social expectations, showing us with brutal honesty what we accept precisely for being fake and ignore for being real, as Hiaasen expertly contrasts between the plastic Pop star and her body double – making the characters face up to the choices they make and allowing them to fall off the rails when the characters refuse to admit responsibility. As a book, it is incredibly funny and, in a very convoluted but nonetheless hilarious way, it also brings a huge change of paradigms! Anna is an incredible protagonist and I would also say role model.

Just a warning, though: there were scenes that I was having a difficult time with (TW) grotesque injuries and bodily fluids that I found hard to stomach but at the same time understand them being there to drive the point home of what happens when selfishness, greed and ego are at the helm of a person’s motivations.

16. The Mystery of the Blue Train, by Agatha Christie.

Speaking of strong female protagonist role models, Katherine Grey is definitely one of them! Much like a lot of Agatha Christie’s stories, The Mystery of the Blue Train is a little bit dated and I could even understand if Ms. Grey had not been considered by other readers to be in the category I’m placing her because of her reserved and conservative nature, but I have always said that we need to understand books and movies in the context of their time, and there is no question that Ms. Grey was more of an example of feminism than a lot of current so-called feminists would give her credit for – much to the Queen of Mystery’s credit, as well, considering how revolutionary she was in her own life!

Katherine Grey is a great example of “show, don’t tell”, too, as she’s constantly categorized by others, and believed by herself as well, as being the plain wallflower-type of woman who would not have amounted to much if her luck hadn’t put her fortune in her life, but through the narrative we are shown over and over again that there is nothing plain about her and that luck had nothing to do with her fortune, but hard work, competence, reliability and a genuine natural beauty which charms everyone she meets without any beguiling or trickery. I felt at peace as I watched her story unfold.

As far as the mystery itself goes, it has been one of my favourites so far – with twists and turns to keep you on your toes and clues which are fun to find and fabulous to explore alongside the great Hercule Poirot. Those who have been following me through the years will know that I grew up reading Agatha Christie, and that a few years ago I made the choice to read every one of her books in chronological order, which I am aware will take me some time but I am incredibly excited to be doing, particularly when I come across a new book like The Mystery of the Blue Train which in my eyes is just as good as The Orient Express or And Then There Were None – or at least a clear predecessor to those gems!

Another two mystery books I read throughout the year also deserve a mention, of course, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, read for the first time and glad for it, and Hound of the Baskervilles, re-read in honour of my husband Stephen Cole’s online production for a locked-down Halloween. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has never ceased to impress me and I shall continue with his works this year too.

15. Voices from the Vaults – A Devizes Poetry Collection.

This is an extremely enjoyable multi-faceted collection that came to me as a birthday gift by one of the authors of the book, Ian Diddams, and it was the first book that my husband and I read to each other during the first lockdown here in the UK. I loved the many layers of it, and how much of a group effort you can tell that it was. Poets working together to create something special and unique, not sticking to a genre or a theme but ensuring that each piece has something good to give the reader (or the performer), be it about life, death, love, growth, heartache, our towns and streets, or moments still in time which humans tend to ponder about as years go by.

As far as poetry goes, I found this to be a good book to explore different styles and methods, which could be good for teaching as well as for basking in the enjoyment of it – even the painful ones. There is something about how the book was put together, the way that the poems sometimes contrast with each other, be it in theme or style, that just makes every voice fit in perfectly well. For those who might not know, The Vaults is a café in Devizes, Wiltshire, where this group of eclectic voices usually meet to create their poems and share them with each other (and I hope they will continue after lockdown ends). It is places like these that make me feel hopeful for the future of the arts, even now while artists struggle under the mismanagement of UK government. However, I have seen my share of poetry and art groups in cafés around the world, surrounded by different circumstances, and it really makes my heart soar to know that this is the kind of thing that will never really end, no matter what happens around us.

Regarding the poems themselves, my friend Ian Diddams is definitely a fantastic poet, Mells’ Bells being one of my favourite poems in the book, but all of the poets merit applauding.

14. Briar Rose, by Jane Jolen.

This book is slightly difficult to talk about without giving away too many spoilers, but I can say that what I liked most about it was how much it keeps with the strong female protagonist theme of my list for the past year. After Briar Rose gets sucked into a fairy tale kingdom on her 16th birthday by a curse, she needs to use her wits and resources to survive. The fairy tale patterns and stereotypes are also turned on their heads, as some other books in this list have turned their own themed patterns on their heads as well. It almost seems that 2020 was a good year for me to discover books that challenge the way certain subjects are seen, and I am very glad for that!

13. Buffy, My Love, by Philip Dattilo.

Ok, so this is the only book in the list which is not fictional, but I couldn’t help adding it anyway because I found it so beautifully put together – in words and in pictures – that I need to commend Dattilo’s narrative style. It is essentially the story of a photographer and his cat, Buffy, who gave him the light and motivation he needed to re-create his life. It brought tears to my eyes thinking about how my own cats had come into my life and subsequently left after years of mutual appreciation and healing, and I also wrote their own stories when each of them passed away (found in my personal blog, That Voice in my Head).

Buffy is presented here as a force of good who comes into people’s lives to help in knowing oneself, and the beauty of that is genuinely heart-warming.

12. Watchmen, by Alan Moore.

So, we come to one which was essentially a very difficult but undeniably un-puttable-down read. Watchmen, much like Dune, is a chilling mirror into socio-political issues of today, and what makes it even more chilling is that we can see the patterns flowing through history and how time after time, generation after generation, has tried to change things to no avail. No, I don’t think things are impossible to change, especially now as people seem to be more aware of issues which for decades have eluded certain classes and ethnicities, or rather, that certain classes and ethnicities have willingly eluded.

What seems to be the main message to me, as I am fully aware that Alan Moore specifically designed it so that everyone finds themselves being somehow wrong and right at the same time, is that the essence of humankind does veer towards knowledge, understanding and sympathy for each other, even in the darkest of times and under truly horrifying circumstances. As the story masterfully weaves good and bad, often within the same characters, openly points out the demonizing of sex and sensuality, and superbly underlines the way unethical people will find a way to do wrong, no matter what side they claim to be, I found myself leaning towards the idea that Moore did not write this as a way of showing us how bad everyone is underneath it all, as many readers have taken it for decades, but that the good that lies in all of us, just by the mere fact of having been born humans, can be revived at times of incredible difficulty, and that it’s worthwhile fighting for.

As part of my Watchmen experience, I of course also watched the movie, and I will say that I pretty much understand where both sides are coming from – how much of a majestic visual masterpiece it is and how well some of the characters were given their dues, on the one hand, and how a lot of the extreme action scenes could have been exchanged for more socio-political critique, on the other hand. In short, I liked it but have nothing against those who didn’t, and completely understand (and in some cases agree) their reasons for doing so. And, has to be said, I feel it was worth doing *that* scene because both characters genuinely deserve their uplift, but the use of Hallelujah cheapened it for me – as it is one of the most taken-out-of-context songs ever and it felt tacky, all things considered.

11. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke.

Now, another book that I found slightly difficult to get through, which kind of was the reason why I enjoyed it so much – given the current circumstances enveloping the Spiritual communities right now! Not necessarily the magical or pagan communities, as the Susanna Clarke’s book would directly connect with more closely, but the events of January 6th at the Washington DC Capitol and the QAnon ass-holy sham-man’s part in it brings at least part of the magical and pagan communities into the novel’s discourse. For me, the idea of the esoteric being placed in the hands of a single man is frankly absurd, and I live by those ideals as a Trustee of one of the few publicly accessible esoteric libraries in the world, The Library of Avalon here in Glastonbury, so for me that’s non-negotiable. The esoteric is such not because it is meant to be beyond human understanding, but because it requires time and effort to get to it in a fully conscious way, and we have really found out over 2020 that the more a person claims that they have got to said knowledge without effort the more likely they are to be a liability to the world.

No one person can hold a key of knowledge, be it for healing, magic or human understanding. The world is made up of networks of experts in different fields for a reason, and experts work together to bring the knowledge they have accessed to the rest of us so that each person in their field of expertise puts in their bit to make the world a better place. Science and medicine have come to the level they are by hundreds of years’ worth of patient, often galling, work done by the individuals that make up said communities, and magic and spirituality are no different. Today we see Mr. Norrells popping up left, right and centre, claiming that they are the know-all spiritual leader of a community, shutting everyone else down, no matter their level or field of expertise, and downright de-stabilizing the community by allowing nefarious forces to come into power instead of working together with all the other experts to find and tackle down the nefarious force. I do not want to give examples using the rest of the characters so as not to give away spoilers, but I will say that Stephen Black is one of the most cleverly written characters of the past few decades, possibly even more so than the already expertly written Jonathan Strange.

Note that I’m not entirely sure I agree with the socio-political resolution of the novel, but I do think that we’re not supposed to, given the era and the circumstances. I’d categorize this novel as socio-political critique and commentary, which very likely will leave the reader thinking a lot about the subjects brought up. Additionally, the mix between reality and fiction within the esoteric is fantastically put together.

10. The Watchmaker of Filigree Street, by Natasha Pulley.

2020 was a year of intrigue books for me, and one of my favourites actually came to me by chance (along with another one which will come soon in the list, too), and boy was I glad for it. Natasha Pulley’s latticework of socio-political intrigue, human love and precisely engineered characters is a must for fans of the genre and those who wish to learn from it alike.

Just like with Susanna Clarke’s novel, though, I found Natasha Pulley’s work to be more of a socio-political commentary piece rather than a mere spy thriller, which left me both satisfied and saddened by the end. It was a bit of a bittersweet experience, but one worth going through. I very much liked the narrative and everything, good and bad, that it entails.

9. Vinegar Girl, by Anne Tyler.

I’m always up to a good modernization of a Shakespeare play, and Vinegar Girl has been one of the best. Taken from one of the most difficult comedies, or at least particularly tricky, Vinegar Girl takes on the challenge of, once again and in line with the recurring topics of this list, look at gender roles, norms and stereotypes and openly comment on what dated views the world needs to let go of for once and for all. Kate needs to be tamed, that’s for sure! No, wait, or is it Patrick that needs to be tamed? No, no, I’m confused… wait, which one was the shrew again?

Anne Tyler managed to create a fantastic modern setting for The Taming of the Shrew, and she certainly manages to underline the duality between male and female as she brings the responsibility of each character in the story to the light, no ifs, no buts, just each attitude they have, everything they say or refuse to say, every single thing that leads the story towards its obvious conclusion – and each character shines through that process to be loved or loathed as the reader prefers.

8. Surrender the Pink, by Carrie Fisher.

Carrie Fisher is, without a doubt, one of my absolute heroines both on screen and in real life, and certainly a presence sorely missed in the world today. Her writing is as magnificent as her acting and stage routines always were, and Surrender the Pink is a glorious piece about growing, learning, love, gender roles and feminism. My husband and I read it together during the first lockdown and I constantly got images of what Sex and the City could have been if the showrunners had been brave and honest regarding emotional abuse in relationships, and why the victims sadly often fall for it, as we don’t always realise we’re walking into it because it all seems so very normal – almost as if we were educated since youth to view such attitudes as normal in a relationship.

Because we hear more often of cis men abusing cis women in this way, it is indeed a very serious subject to continue tackling, worldwide, but there are enough instances of cis women abusing cis men as well to take the issue seriously as well. The way that Carrie Fisher tackled the subject was realistic and raw, pointing out that yes, we are educated as young women to think that such attitudes are the markers of true love, that such partners are the ones we need to look for in order to feel loved, that drama means passion and tears are the proof of true affection. It was a hard read, as such subjects are, but it was worth it for the narrative and Carrie’s voice, and because the underlying message is to stand up for yourself, and the heroine might not be outwardly strong, but she is indeed getting there.

7. The Shakespeare Secret, by J.L. Carrell.

Now for something a bit more fast paced, yet still in keeping with the overall theme of strong female protagonists! The Shakespeare Secret is a fun, upbeat thriller, full of actual facts and a lot of fiction sprouting from the same – much in the style of the Da Vinci Code if that’s your style.

For me, the more I learn about Shakespeare the more impressed I am by his intelligence, wit and technique, and I found that reading a full-blown conspiracy thriller where he is the centre of the mystery was particularly satisfactory, even though I could see the baddie a mile away and was admittedly disappointed by who it was, but that still didn’t ruin my experience. Additionally, the protagonist, Dr Kate Stanley, was purposeful, resourceful and sharp. I greatly enjoyed it and am looking forward to the second part, The Shakespeare Curse.

6. The Winged Bull, by Dion Fortune.

Admittedly, this is not a very easy book for many people. I have heard different friends say that they don’t like Dion Fortune because of the extremely dated outlook on men behaving abusively and women being subdued, but I have always said that we can only judge a book or a movie from the perspective of when it was written, and for Dion Fortune to have written of such themes back in the 20s and 30s was incredibly brave and eye-opening. She paved the way for more women to open up about their experience as well as for other authors to be able to turn gender roles on their heads as I have been pointing out throughout the list. Before her there were others who attempted it and gained a lot but are not necessarily considered as such, of course, like the Brontë sisters and Virginia Woolf (which becomes all the more obvious when we hear the uncanny amount of people who talk about Wuthering Heights as if it was a romantic novel to strive for). But with Dion Fortune it’s not only that, but also that she was telling a full story through all of her novels in which she also taught the esoteric to the reader, which at the time it was illegal to do so openly. She opted to fictionalize her teachings of the magical and spiritual processes, and in order to achieve that she had to use the reality at the time of men seeing women as objects over which they had ownership as a setting in and of itself. Again, not only that, but she was able to bring about the healing of her characters through the interactions that she formulated under a mystical story arc. In short, you can only heal if you’ve faced your darkest side and you’re willing to do the hard work to get yourself to the other side. And I greatly applaud her for it!

5. The Lie Tree, by Francis Hardinge.

Here’s another book that came to me by coincidence, although perhaps it was by synchronicity because it took me by the hand and led me into the depths of imagination where lies are created and fiction thrives, an experience I had never imagined I craved until I found this book. In the case of this book, it’s more about how a lie can make or break a life, and how a truth can heal retroactively or accelerate the process of decay. As far as dualities go, this has been one of my favourites, close to The Neverending Story, The Count of Monte Cristo and Dracula, although it resembles none of them, as they don’t resemble each other, either! Faith, our young heroine, finds herself in the process of becoming, in a liminal state where she must decide whether to take the reins or let go in her path towards adulthood, while at the same time unravelling the truths which have sprouted from the lies, having to choose between exposing and revenge, and discovering the realities which were hidden from everyone else under guises and deceit. Not only that, but the novel is also an extremely poignant description of the hardships that women had to go through in order to be taken seriously in the scientific community in Victorian Britain. Considering that even now women scientists still struggle so much to achieve their deserved respect, I find this book to be a must read for anyone trying to understand. Stylistically, the whole narrative is atmospheric and nostalgic, giving the reader an uplifting experience for sure.

4. If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller, by Italo Calvino.

I have enjoyed Italo Calvino for many years, Cosmicomics being one of my favourite books that I haven’t finished, and If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller is definitely an incredible book, masterfully woven and intricately put together, narrated as if there could be nothing more natural than the Escheresque pattern that the reader inadvertently walks into when they open the book. I personally think that the less said about this book the better, but in the absolute best of ways, so as to give zero spoilers and let everyone enjoy it for themselves if you decide to pick it up!

3. Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontë.

Out of all the books in this list, Jane Eyre spoke to me the most about myself and my own process of self-discovery and becoming. The Mystery of the Blue Train made me feel happy that the “plain” girl was shown to be anything but plain after all, Funny Girl made me feel irked at the gorgeous supermodel being annoyed at having so many opportunities to become famous as soon as she got to London due to her beauty (although I did love the reason why), Star Island made me feel comforted about the reality of the shallow nature of the industry and that sometimes even the most gorgeous of people get overlooked because they are not overproduced, Surrender the Pink made me feel someone understood my soul and the real reasons I kept going back to the most abusive and dangerous relationship I ever was in (as well as the real reasons I finally broke that horrid paradigm), but Jane Eyre showed me why it’s a such a classic, why it’s the mother of all Strong Feminine Protagonist novels – or one of the godmothers in any case!

Jane Eyre is possibly one of the most intelligent women ever written, and every second in the company of the book I wondered why it had taken me so long to read it! (In my defence, I do have nearly 600 books in my to-read list, and the list has grown each year exponentially to how fast I normally read). The novel is in itself an essay of human relationships, understanding and communication, and of survival and becoming, as well, although in this case it’s not Jane who becomes, but everyone else who comes across her path, because Jane is a rare example of someone who, even from a very young age, already is.

The way that it touched me personally is that I feel like when I was a child I already was, but then I got reformatted by criteria that I was never able to fulfil while growing up, and that now that I am in a position to live the life that I want, I have become me again, that me that I thought was no more, and I realised that the reason I was constantly pushed back by many people was because that me was always pushing to come to the surface. Jane’s words and wisdom, her perseverance and her natural beauty shining through the plain character that she was forced to embody make her so worthy of the role model status she’s been given in literary circles, and Charlotte Brontë’s narrative much the same.

2. Chasing a Ghost, by D. A. Ravenscroft.

I have been a big fan of Les Misérables since I first watched the musical in my early twenties, my heart beating wildly at Can You Hear the People Sing, my tears streaming for Fantine and Éponine, my heart stopping for Gavroche and Enjolras, all throughout cheering for Jean Valjean and joining in the passion of One Day More – granted that I didn’t watch the movie until a few years after it came out, as I didn’t want my original theatre experience to be altered. The book itself took me about two years to get through (hey, I did my best with ADD, and sometimes OCD, getting in the way. When they clash I have to wait a week, a month or the length of a full book between part 1 and 2, or similar issues that no one, myself included, might ever be able to understand. I don’t have a pattern, it’s just what it is).

In comes D. A. Ravenscroft with his wit and life-long passion for Les Mis, first inviting me to play Feuilly in his own modern-day adaptation called The Downtrodden, and then publishing his first novel, Chasing a Ghost, where he expands on the original story as we follow Enjolras, Grantaire, Combeferre and Courfeyrac years after the ABC Society led the student insurrection. As the four survivors find each other, meeting with other survivors and those who have continued the movement underground, and Enjolras has to decide whether to follow his revolutionary heart or remain with the family he has brought up with Grantaire.

D. A. Ravenscroft manages to create a fascinating look into generational patterns, passions and connections, as the three children Enjolras carried and who share his and Grantaire’s genes showcase a blend of both their fathers’ ideals as well as their individual personalities spread out throughout a trilogy of historical and revolutionary movements in France. Mr. Ravenscroft’s own love and fascination for revolutionary France comes through in his narrative with delicious ease and the way the four friends interact with each other, with Marius and Cosette and their family, with Enjolras and Grantaire’s own children, and with the new generation of insurrectionists is gripping and compelling. The realistic portrayal of what homosexuality would have meant in those times, to endanger their position and wellbeing, is an honest depiction of the historical mistreatment of LGBTQIA+ individuals, and at the same time Combeferre’s swift understanding of Enjolras as a Trans man from a medical point of view, and Grantaire’s deep love for him, as well as all their friends’ acceptance of the fact is a breath of fresh air; D. A. Ravenscroft has reached a milestone in representation with this story.

Just a warning, though: if you cried during the first version of the story of the ABC Society members that was told to us by Victor Hugo, have your tissues ready this time around as well, because D. A. Ravenscroft is true to his passion and holds nothing back. Remember that famous Star Trek scene where Captain Kirk yells out “KHAN!!”? Yep, that was me, but with his name instead. And I effing loved it. I genuinely thought it was immensely brave of Ravenscroft to take the story to the place he took it, in order to remain true to the source, while being true to himself as well. As a fellow writer I can only wish that the same is said about myself one day. I feel extremely proud and fortunate to have been in his cast for the Downtrodden and feel privileged to be his friend in real life, and am looking forward to see where his writing takes him.

I’m extremely looking forward to part two, Chasing a Legacy, which Ravenscroft finished writing during lockdown (and is now in the process of the third instalment!) and have no doubt that it will be in my list for 2021!

1. Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

Let’s just say it as it is: Neil Gaiman is a living legend and Terry Pratchett deserves the legendary status he has, and what happened when they worked together on a project was that they created a masterpiece for all times, inadvertently perfectly designed for 2020, and possibly purposefully designed for any time when humans stopped noticing that which is right in front of their faces.

Good Omens is a perfect example of what happens when two literary geniuses realise that the concepts of Good and Evil are far too simple for the complexity of humankind, as 2020 went to show that even those who seem to be the nicest of people will turn around and say “You know what, 40,000 people dying in half a year is really not enough to worry about other people’s wellbeing. I’d rather just keep having fun because other people being in danger is none of my concern”, or “But it’s only the elderly and those with underlying health conditions who are dying, why do the rest of us should be restrained?”. In reality, even those who seemed like the nicest of people might not ever notice, either, that maybe they survived something horrific because others around them worked their bums off to ensure that everyone was as safe as could be, even at the expense of their own wellbeing.

As a novel, there is absolutely nothing out of place in Good Omens. Every single character is perfect as they are and when they are, every single twist and turn can be measured in tempo with Gaiman and Pratchett’s individual styles and at the same time they fit together into each other as if it was one single mind who had created the story. As far as stories about the end of the world go, this is my absolute favourite and I doubt anything will top it now. Gaiman had the last number one anyway, but still, it’s just that perfectly put together for me. I doubt that I actually want to have a list of stories about the end of the world, now that I think about it. I went through another two this year, and neither shone a candle to Good Omens, but then again I am not measuring this book on the end-of-the-world basis, but rather on the perfection of the whole masterpiece as such. And, yes, when I say that it was inadvertently done as to fit into 2020 with perfection, I also mean what the David Tennant and Michael Sheen series brought to the year! They seriously were born to play Crowley and Aziraphale together, and the rest of the cast was just as perfectly cast as they were. I don’t know that lockdown without Good Omens would have been any worse, but it sincerely made it better in any case! Not only more bearable but it somehow gave me hope for the future, like a confirmation that those who are aware of what’s truly happening are working behind the scenes to ensure that we’re all safe, no matter how unaware the rest of the people might be.

And yes, for those who are wondering, I skipped ahead in my reading list so I could read the book before watching the series. Now there’s a glitch in the system and am not sure if I should read An Ocean at the End of the Lane or American Gods next! To be fair, I did read two Gaimans during 2020 (gasp, goes my OCD), as I already had Odd and the Frost Giants lined up with my plan and I opted to not leave it until after Good Omens, but now my head has gone funny with that. And I loved it, by the way, it definitely deserves an honorary mention in any case!

So, those are my favourite 20 books that I read in 2020. Hope the list inspired you or helped you decide whether to read a particular book or not.

Happy reading!

Sandra Cole ~ Actress, Model, Writer, Witch

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About the Creator

Sandra Tena Cole

Actress, Model, Writer

Co-producer at His & Hers Theatre Company

Esoteric Practitioner

Idealist

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