The best books of 2018 – Haruki Murakami, Keigo Higashino, and If Cats Disappeared From the World

Readers may look back at 2018 as the year when literature did not happen. No Nobel Prize. A J.K. Rowling novel that (gasp) failed to enchant. A George R.R. Martin novel, but not the long-promised new Game of Thrones story. You might be forgiven for thinking 2018 was, all in all, a bit of a let-down. Thank goodness it ended with Margaret Atwood promising us a sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale. Phew.

Perhaps we should begin with something that very definitely did go ahead: Hong Kong’s annual Literary Festival, which celebrated its 18th year. Attracting writers from around the world, the 10-day feast of readings, talks and discussions included Chan Lai-kuen on Hong Kong poetry and Yunte Huang on The Original Siamese Twins, not to mention international stars such as Irvine Welsh, Meg Wolitzer, Cheryl Strayed, Susie Orbach and Geoff Dyer. Exiled writer Ma Jian made an appearance that almost didn’t happen, due to a case of nerves at the festival venue, Tai Kwun.

Two years ago, I opened a prediction for 2017 by asking: “Will [this] finally be the year that George R.R. Martin gets his finger out (and preferably all 10) to complete the sixth instalment of Game of Thrones?” The answer is still no, but at least now we understand why: Martin was hard at work typing Fire & Blood, a mock-history of the Targaryen clan right up until their dragons went extinct.

One book that definitely hit the shops – and indeed cinema screens – was Rowling’s latest annex to the house of Harry Potter: Fantastic Beasts: Crimes of Grindelwald. Like 2016’s Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, this was a screenplay, which inspired some grumbling. “I am Potter-mad myself but even I remain unsure about the publishing of scripts,” wrote Sian Cain in The Guardian. “After seeing the film, it is hard to imagine what the reader gains from imagining a flying carriage chase laid out by Rowling over 12 scenes, rather than watching it as intended.”

More damaging was a narrative overstuffed with sound and fury, but signifying little. “It’s an embarrassment of riches, and it’s suffocating,” opined The New York Times. “Someone needs to call a halt to the excessive afterlife of Potter’s fictional universe,” complained Pauline Bock, adding that Rowling’s sole responsibility for the project (she collaborated with established playwrights on The Cursed Child) only made matters worse: “The saddest thing is that Rowling has been complicit in all this.” At least her alter ego, Robert Galbraith, produced a half-decent Cormoran Strike novel, even if Lethal White was about 250 pages too long.