The best novels of 2023

When Penance first came out, much of the discussion around it centered on it being a critique of the true crime genre. There’s definitely an element of that: it’s framed as a non-fiction book about a grisly murder (three teenage girls torture a classmate before setting her on fire); there are transcripts of true crime podcasts littered throughout, and the narrator is a true-crime author, who we learn at the start has been accused of malpractice. 

But there is a lot more going on than that. Penance is a sharp examination of high school bullying, shifting social hierarchies and the way that people can be both victim and perpetrator at the same time. As an almost sociological depiction of a fictional small town, it is fascinating and richly drawn: we learn about the history of the town’s ill-fated indoor waterpark, the changing fortunes of its grandest hotel, and the career of its sole celebrity inhabitant – a fantasy author turned Nigel Farage-style reactionary. Penance is also excellent as a satire of Tumblr and the way that young people interact on the internet – few authors have managed to parody online speech with the vitality and wit that Clark pulls off here. (James Greig)

I’ve recently got into historical fiction (largely thanks to Hamnet), so when I heard that my favourite author was turning her hand to the genre I instantly pre-ordered a copy. The Fraud by Zadie Smith follows Eliza Touchet, housekeeper of prolific author William Harrison Ainsworth, as she finds herself increasingly mesmerised by the ongoing Tichborne trial.

The trial, which is still one of the longest court cases in English legal history, concerned a claim lodged by a London butcher that he was the long lost heir to the Tichborne baronetcy – a claim staunchly supported by his witness and close ally, Andrew Bogle, a formerly enslaved man. But The Fraud is not just a retelling of a curious historical event: it’s a novel about the power of populism, the inherent unknowability of other people, and the appeal of self-delusion. (Serena Smith)

Birnam Wood, the third novel by Booker Prize-winning author Eleanor Catton, is perhaps the most exhilarating book about gardening you’ll ever read. 

The story follows a group of idealistic young guerilla gardeners in New Zealand, trying their best to make a small difference by planting vegetables in unused land. They get the opportunity to scale up their operation when the group’s leader, Mira, has a chance encounter with a sinister, Peter Thiel-esque American billionaire, who is pretending to build a post-apocalyptic bunker in the country (a popular trend among the ultra-wealthy) as cover for something far, far worse. When the activists make a deal with the devil, events spiral wildly out of control. Birnam Wood is a thoughtful literary novel about the climate crisis and what it means to have ideological commitments, but it is also a romp, featuring murders, chase scenes, and elaborate conspiracies. More literary fiction like this, please! (James Greig)

Although it missed out on winning the Booker Prize (a decision which many considered controversial), The Bee Sting is a tragicomic masterpiece.  It follows the declining fortunes of the Barnes family, once one of the wealthiest in their small town in Ireland, now facing a humiliating loss in status and living standards as the dad’s car dealership starts to go under. The novel is split into sections told from the perspective of each family member. There’s Cass, the binge-drinking teenage daughter who is stuck under the shadow of her cruel, indifferent best friend. Her younger brother, the 12-year-old PJ, is a shy, awkward anorak who is obsessed with video games and facts about zoology, and who may or may not be getting groomed online by a neo-Nazi paedophile. 

We first meet the parents from the viewpoint of their teenage children, and they come across like caricatures: Imelda is beautiful but shallow, materialistic and vapid, while Dickie just seems like a hapless loser. But as the novel progresses, we learn the tragic story of how the pair ended up together and the terrible, but sympathetic, mistakes they’ve both made, at which point they became imbued with real depth – I almost felt guilty for scoffing at them in earlier chapters. The Bee Sting is wise, laugh-out-loud funny and heartbreakingly sad, and Murray is one of the liveliest prose stylists at work today. Personally, this was my favourite book of the year. (James Greig)

Yellowface is a satire about the publishing industry, identity politics and cancel culture. It’s about Juniper Song, a failed author (and white woman) who is jealous of her friend Athena’s dizzying literary success. When Athena – who is Chinese-American – dies in a freak accident, Juniper steals her unpublished manuscript (a historical epic about Chinese labourers during World War 1), passes it off as her own work and, with the encouragement of her publishers, tries to pass herself off as racially ambiguous as possible. 

Because Juniper is always on the verge of being found out, the novel reads like a thriller – it’s fast-paced, well-plotted and hugely engaging. Kuang’s satire is wide-ranging in its list of targets, from the self-serving hollowness of publishing’s commitment to diversity to an online culture which allows people to cynically weaponise identity politics for their own ends. (James Greig)

Another satire about cancel culture, The List follows a successful Black British couple whose enviable lives are destroyed when the man, Michael, has his name placed on an anonymous list of abusive men in the media. It is a thoughtful meditation on what accountability should look like in the age of social media, with Adegoke providing an exhaustive array of perspectives and refusing to offer any easy resolutions. But the novel is so funny, so lively and so gripping that it never feels like a string of talking points. It’s a work of real pathos and moral seriousness, but it’s also a blast. (James Greig)

At the beginning of The Guest, Alex – a sex worker on the run from a violent ex-partner who she has ripped off – has landed a pretty sweet deal, staying at the Long Island holiday home of a wealthy older man. After she accidentally crashes his car, she is expelled from paradise – and decides to stay. What follows is a thrilling modern-day picaresque: with no money or resources at her disposal, Alex must depend upon her looks, charm and cunning to survive.

With its taut pacing and languid setting, The Guest is a perfect beach read, but it’s also an incisive examination of class relations and precarity in the modern age. It captures what it feels like to have your nose pressed up against wealth, but only ever being able to access it in the most contingent and transient ways, liable to be snatched away at any moment. (James Greig)

Ordinary Human Failings is about a troubled Irish family, the Greens, living in London in the early 1990s. Their already dysfunctional existence is further shattered when a toddler is found dead on their housing estate and the finger is pointed at 10-year-old Lucy. Tom, an unscrupulous tabloid journalist swoops in and takes the family to a hotel, where he plies them with alcohol and tries to dig up damning evidence for what he thinks will be a career-making story. 

In a series of flashbacks, we discover why the Greens emigrated from their native Waterford, and the result is a devastating portrayal of intergenerational despair – one section, in which a young man struggling with alcoholism sabotages a cherished opportunity, is one of the most excruciating things I’ve ever read (in a good way!) Nolan’s prose is lyrical, precise and haunting, and despite the darkness of its subject matter, Ordinary Human Failings is a work of real beauty. (James Greig)