CrElisa Gabbert, Normal Distance, essay-like poems that collect sentences around a theme, an intriguing and possibly replicable way to work, with some quite brilliant results; Marina Abramovich, by Ossian Ward, a kind of extended catalogue of her work throughout her life, a lifetime performance of the self as a work of art, a disruptive force, a dramatic presence; Curtis Sittenfeld, Rodham, oddly wooden in manner, but it grew on me the more and more counterfactual it became, a counterfactual history almost more plausible than the reality of the Trump years; Victory Park, Rachel Kerr, nothing not plausible in this novel, a kind of Great Gatsby without any Gatsby, and without the Fitzgerald style; Haruki Murakami, After the Quake, surreal little stories that are also slice-of-life-like and ought to feel resonant and full of meaning but I found them instead forgettable; Adam Zagajewski, Another Beauty, an unusually structured autobiography, in essay-like chapters, with poetry-like sections sometimes, small paragraphs or sentences that stand alone, the occasional vivid sentence or detail shining out here and there in a way that could perhaps have really lifted off if the juxtapositions worked harder, more consistently, more like Elisa Gabbert's poems are working; Who Thought This Was A Good Idea? by Alyssa Mastromonaco, a surprisingly bland and uninformative account of her years working closely with Obama, I learnt pretty much nothing at all; Crudo, Olivia Laing, increasingly captivating, 2017 as seen through the eyes of a fictional Kathy Acker, supposing she'd survived the breast cancer she died from in 1997, written in a brilliantly distinctive oddly jaunty style, good on the way life is about the life of the everyday at the same time it is caught up in wider current events, caught up and at the same time adrift, and drifting;