Project Bookshelf: Natalie Gardner

A tall, brown bookshelf set against a white wall. It is cluttered with books and trinkets and is decorated for Christmas. There is a Sonic Youth poster on the wall next to it. — My main bookshelf, housing one half of my much-reduced personal library.

A few months ago I moved into my first apartment. What this meant, unfortunately, was that I had to find a new home for most of my books. There was simply no way I was going to fit three shelves and countless floor piles of books into my one-bedroom apartment. Each man kills the thing he loves, I suppose, and my little book collection was my pride and joy. As I was packing up my books for a trip to McKay’s, however, I began to realize that I hadn’t actually read most of these books in years. Somewhere along the way, my love for reading had morphed into sentimentality for the physical objects themselves. Why did I keep the Percy Jackson or Warrior Cats books I loved as a kid? Because seeing them on my shelf made me feel good. I had become someone who owns books because they look good on a shelf. I decided then and there that in the future I would only keep the books I loved, and give away the rest. Unfortunately, this was just the beginning of another cycle of book-hoarding. My shelves, once sparse, are now becoming cluttered once again. In my defense, I have been giving away books that I don’t plan on revisiting, although it appears that the book-bug has bit me once again.

Today I’ll be touring the bookshelf in my living room. It’s a little disorganized right now, so I hope you’ll bear with me. I’ll start with the middle shelf, which started as somewhere to set my things down when I walked in the door. I decorated it with trinkets (and a fake plant, because I’ve never been able to keep real plants alive) until eventually it was too cluttered to be useful as a catch-all shelf. I also decorated the back with stickers; my favorites are the June Henry, No Cure, and Rig Time stickers, all of which are cool bands/artists that played in Knoxville last year.

A brown shelf covered in trinkets. The back of the shelf is covered in stickers.

Also of note: the boxes of Japanese “Peace” cigarettes. These were a gift from a friend who spent a semester in Japan; they make for wonderful party favors. The only things remaining from this shelf’s past life as a catch-all are a pile of laundry tokens and a Campbell’s Soup mug for storing loose change.

Two brown shelves filled with books and trinkets

This shelf used to be organized alphabetically, but that went out the window as soon as I started buying more books. The bottom shelf has now become where I put anything I have recently purchased or read. My favorites from this shelf include Auden’s Selected Poems, Home by Toni Morrison, Secret History II: Stories About Knoxville by Jack Neely, and Grief Slut by Sundress’s own Evelyn Berry. I also use this shelf to store my zines, a hard hat from my time at Amazon, and three stuffed frogs my friend Audrey made.

Pictured above are the books I am currently reading or finished over winter break. You can tell which ones are my favorite based on how worn they are. I’ll go into a little more depth on some of these below:

Currently Reading

I’ll refrain from sharing my thoughts on these books (one of which I’ll be discussing soon for Sundress Reads) until I finish them. That being said, this is what I’m currently reading:

Yellowface by R.F. Kuang
Critique of Modernity by Alain Touraine
Amerikaland by Danny Goodman

Recently Read

Rant: The Oral Biography of Buster Casey by Chuck Palahniuk

Rant is the first book I finished in 2025. I’ve been a Chuck Palahniuk girlie for years, but I haven’t gotten a chance to read this one till recently. I enjoyed it, but not as much as Fight Club or Invisible Monsters. It has all the hallmarks of a Palahniuk novel: improbable events, strange characters, and the twist about two-thirds of the way through. And of course, it is incredibly gross, probably grosser than any of his other works. As much as I wanted to love it, Rant was disappointingly formulaic, with none of the dynamism of Palahniuk’s other works to make up for it. I’d still recommend it, but if you aren’t already a Chuck Palahniuk fan, Rant won’t be the book that sells you on him. I’ve chosen to spare you the details here; if this sounds like something you’d enjoy, you should go into it totally blind (trust me).

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

A Little Life is another book I have mixed feelings toward. As others have noted, it is beautifully written. It’s impossible to not love Jude and Willem, the main characters of A Little Life. Despite knowing Jude would never get better, and despite knowing this book would break my heart, I couldn’t seem to put it down. If you have the stomach for it, it’s a must-read.

That being said, I have some issues with this book. As convincingly real as they are, every character is, unfortunately, incredibly flat. JB is mean but fun (and changes the most out of anyone, but we don’t see nearly enough of him). Malcolm is stuck-up but generous. Willem, Harold, and Julia are all angels. Jude is possibly the only exception. For a novel about men and their relationships, Yanagihara focuses far too much on Jude. The fact that half of the characters are gay seems to have no bearing on any of their lives. Perhaps Yanagihara is imagining a world where one’s sexuality really does not matter, but I’d like to see aspects of the queer experience portrayed in greater depth in a novel that has been touted as a “gay book.”

I saw someone online say that A Little Life is the emotional equivalent of a Saw movie (which are, in my opinion, really fun movies). That is 100% accurate. I enjoyed A Little Life, but if that’s not for you, you won’t miss anything by skipping this one.

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin

I read this back in July, but it was so good that I had to revisit it over winter break. Manhunt is about a post-apocalyptic world where a virus has turned all men into zombies, basically. In an interesting twist on the “what if every man suddenly died” genre (a favorite of mine), Manhunt imagines what such a world would be like for transgender people. Like most transgender post-apocalyptic fiction, it’s pretty bleak. Manhunt is violent, heart-wrenching, and something of a transgender power fantasy (which is something I don’t think I’ve ever seen in a novel before). If you’re into thrillers and strange, gender-fucky scenarios, this is definitely the book for you.

Babbit by Sinclair Lewis

Babbit, published in 1922, is an absolute gem that is not talked about nearly enough. Babbit is a comedy-of-manners and biting satire of 1920s political life that follows the titular George Babbit, a successful realtor, and his search for meaning. Despite his wealth and status, Babbit is dissatisfied with the stifling social world of petit-bourgeois strivers in middle America. Combining cutting political satire with a critique of the spiritual emptiness of middle-class life, Sinclair crafted a story that still resonates today. In modern America, George Babbits are everywhere. Walk into a used-car dealership, watch grindset videos on social media, or sit in on a business class, and you’ll find them. They are the upwardly mobile yet discontented middle managers of America: they love highways, McMansions, and cable news, and they would resurrect Ronald Reagan if they could. They are utterly terrifying. Read Babbit.

Brief Interviews With Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace

I think we’re in for a critical reevaluation of David Foster Wallace as a brilliant, but seriously flawed author. I personally have a love-hate relationship with DFW. For all his talk of kindness in This Is Water, there are times when his writing devolves into petty cruelty, and it goes without saying that he is awful at writing women. That being said, I enjoyed Brief Interviews With Hideous Men a lot. I don’t agree with all of his sentiments, and he’s definitely a show-off, but when he hits, he hits. If you’re into weird fiction or works that experiment with form, then I’d definitely recommend this book.

A white woman leaning against a wooden deck railing with the woods behind her. She is wearing a black dress, a green army jacket, and a black scarf, and is looking to the side.

Natalie Gardner is a trans writer hailing from Knoxville, Tennessee. She is currently pursuing a BA in English with a minor in philosophy from the University of Tennessee. She loves transgressive fiction, hiking, and schlocky, B-tier horror movies. When she isn’t working, you can find her haunting the coffee shops of Fort Sanders and DIY shows across East Tennessee. Her work in the field of linguistics can be found in Feedback Review in Second Language.