My Favorite Black Books in 2023

Because I can't resist a good list...

Every year around this time, I give both a head tilt and a side eye to the various Best of lists that make the rounds, particularly book lists. It’s good news and bad news in a way that they rarely capture all of the books that I loved and enjoyed, because, the bad news is, these lists are generally not as diverse as I would love for them to be. The good news, though, is that they serve to help me remember the books that I may have forgotten about because they came so early in the year. In part because I spent most of the year reading The Covenant of Water (Reader, I have no regrets) and then I was completely floored by how propulsive Hello Beautiful turned out to be, it took me longer to finish some of these than I expected, and I still haven’t finished one. But without further ado, here is the list — and if you’re more inclined to listen to me on YouTube, I put this there, too:

Ordinary Notes by Christina Sharpe

I just finished reading this beautiful book, quoted above, by Christina Sharpe and I don’t know where I’ve been, but I think it was reading Farah Jasmine Griffin’s work that alerted me to the sharp beauty and poetry of Sharpe’s language. It is a restorative, quiet, affirming work. Some of the sentences are just stunning, and breath-taking — words I just don’t use very often to talk about writers or writing.

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

Here’s my review about this understandably acclaimed novel, which I still sometimes think about, especially the competitiveness that can arise in a relationship, the performance of punishment in society, particularly as it relates to the over-incarceration of Black people and what Black freedom can look like and mean.

The Survivalists by Kashana Cauley

I’ve had a YouTube channel for a few years now, and I haven’t been back there in awhile because work and the novel took over my life this year, but I did manage earlier this year to mention my thoughts & feelings there about The Survivalists, a really memorable and funny story about Black survivalists in Brooklyn.

How to Say Babylon by Safiya Sinclair

I am still reading this one, and savoring it. For a host of reasons, mainly lack of money or regular access to a reasonable Black hair salon, I started off undergrad at a predominantly white institution with a Teeny Weeny Afro. I had been hoping for a big bushy Angela Davis-type situation, but it was not to be, so I locked my hair up and for the next 17 years I wore locs. I learned over the course of that time, before I combed them out, that being Rastafarian was way deeper than how I wore my hair. I wish I’d had Safiya’s book back then, to understand the complexity and depth of what wearing my hair that way signified and meant. How to Say Babylon is heavy and beautiful and intense.

Lone Women by Victor LaValle

I had the pleasure of reviewing Lone Women for the Boston Globe; I’ve been writing about and fan-girling over Victor’s work for about 20 years now, and this latest surprising work from him gives me reason to keep at it.

The Black Angels by Maria Smilios 

This overdue, important and riveting story of the Black nurses who helped cure tuberculosis was one of the most fascinating books I read this year. Here’s my review — and I’ll be in conversation with Maria (lucky me!) at the New York Public Library on March 6th: If you’re around, come through!.

Black Love Letters edited by Cole Brown and Natalie Johnson

This collection of love letters encompasses platonic and intimate friendships, familial love and yes, romantic love. Published as part of John Legend’s imprint, it’s a treasure to read and hear the music of beloveds on the page.

The Upcycled Self by Tariq Trotter

I’m a huge fan of The Roots, Questlove and Black Thought, not necessarily in that order. Especially now that I’ve read The Upcycled Self and all that I thought I knew and respected about Tariq Trotter has been affirmed. Here’s my review, in case you missed it.

The Unsettled by Ayana Mathis 

I think Ayana Mathis’ sophomore effort was quietly triumphant and beautiful. That opinion was clearly informed by my nostalgia for Philly, and the ways I could relate to the main character, Ava, and her mothering of Touissaint.