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The Best American Essays 2022: An Annual Literary Collection—Selected by Award-Winning Writer Alexander Chee
A collection of the year's best essays, selected by award-winning writer Alexander Chee.
Alexander Chee, an essayist of "virtuosity and power" (Washington Post), selects twenty essays out of thousands that represent the best examples of the form published the previous year.
Alexander Chee, an essayist of "virtuosity and power" (Washington Post), selects twenty essays out of thousands that represent the best examples of the form published the previous year.
331 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 1, 2022
217 people are currently reading
1773 people want to read
About the author
Alexander Chee
28 books1,894 followers"Alexander Chee is the best new novelist I've seen in some time. Edinburgh is moody, dramatic - and pure."--Edmund White
“A complex, sophisticated, elegant investigation of trauma and desire - like a white hot flame.”--Joyce Hackett, in The Guardian
“A coming-of-age novel in the grand Romantic tradition, where passions run high, Cupid stalks Psyche, and love shares the dance floor with death . . . A lovely, nuanced, never predictable portrait of a creative soul in the throes of becoming.”--Washington Post Book World
Alexander Chee was born in South Kingston, RI, and raised in South Korea, Guam, Truk and Maine. He attended Wesleyan University and the University of Iowa Writer's Workshop. He is the recipient of a Whiting Writers' Award, an NEA Fellowship in Fiction, fellowships from the MacDowell Colony and was the Visiting Writer at Amherst College from 2006-2010.
His first novel, Edinburgh, won the Michener, the AAWW Lit Award, the Lambda Editor's Choice Prize and was named a Booksense 76 Pick and a Publisher's Weekly Best Book of the Year. His second novel, The Queen of the Night, is forthcoming from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt in 2011. He lives in New York City.
“A complex, sophisticated, elegant investigation of trauma and desire - like a white hot flame.”--Joyce Hackett, in The Guardian
“A coming-of-age novel in the grand Romantic tradition, where passions run high, Cupid stalks Psyche, and love shares the dance floor with death . . . A lovely, nuanced, never predictable portrait of a creative soul in the throes of becoming.”--Washington Post Book World
Alexander Chee was born in South Kingston, RI, and raised in South Korea, Guam, Truk and Maine. He attended Wesleyan University and the University of Iowa Writer's Workshop. He is the recipient of a Whiting Writers' Award, an NEA Fellowship in Fiction, fellowships from the MacDowell Colony and was the Visiting Writer at Amherst College from 2006-2010.
His first novel, Edinburgh, won the Michener, the AAWW Lit Award, the Lambda Editor's Choice Prize and was named a Booksense 76 Pick and a Publisher's Weekly Best Book of the Year. His second novel, The Queen of the Night, is forthcoming from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt in 2011. He lives in New York City.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 114 reviews
September 10, 2023
This was fine, I found some new and interesting non-fiction writers and deven those who has fiction works, but I didn't feel that there was a lot of variety in the topics here so it felt repetitive at some times, and for me some writing styles (especialaly in non fiction) are either a hit or not, even if the topic is interesting.
1- Abasement by Brian Blanchfield: I like looking at personal essays with a personal eye as well, and I can relate to the author not able to purchase a house because of his "identity", because even despite the differneces of our identites, I've had similar issues because of the different identities I hold, and it's all just very cruel and unjust.
2- Drinking Story by Elissa Washuta: from the title, it really is a story about the author's drinking and quitting and how she makes the journey into a narrative. interesting writing stle even if the topic wasn't to my liking.
* 3- Fire & Ice by Debra Gwartney: I cried. This has to be one of the hardest articles about losing a spouse. It interwieves personal crisis and love with geography crisis and natural disasters. I felt for the author and her train of thoughts in times of grief.
* 4- Ghosts by Vauhini Vara: I love the idea and the excution of this one, and it's always intriguing to see how creatives use AI tools that challenge and endanger their livelihood. I too am endangered by AI, because of my profesion, so it's always a topic I'm intrigued by. The author used AI to write short pieces about the death of her sister, each time giving the AI more to work with: from more info to more stylistic guidlines to say, and the result is very intriguing.
5- The Wild, Sublime Body by Melissa Febos: Interesting examination of the way we look at our bodies and femininty, and the destinctions we draw between us and animals. I was more intrigued by the beginning of this essay more than the way it resolved.
6- Baby Yeah by Anthony Veasna So: this story starts with a disclaimer that the author died in 2020, and finding that he died from a drug overdose makes me feel sad. I don't know what or how to feel to that news. this essay itself is about a friend of his who died a year prior. and just there's so much sadness here. It's more than just an essay about two people who died, it's about them being "minorities within minorities" and that's always interesting to read, but in the end, it left me very depressed.
* 7- The Gye, the No-Name Hair Salon, the Coup dEtat, and the Small Dreamers by Jung Hae Chae: this essay is imbedded in the author's experience as a child in South Korea then their immigration to the US. It's about the culture and hard lives of women in Korea through political upheavels, tight impossible finane situations, horrible men, and wife-beating husbands.
8- It had to be Gold by Justin Torres: It felt incomplete to me, but it's mainly about authenticity and identity and the way we choose to display that identity, maybe be wearing a golden cross chain.
9- Futurity by Alex Marzano Lesnevich: about the author's transition mixed with experiences about the pandemic, and these two events overlapping really would make anyone existential, wondering about the concept of "future"
* 10- Her Kind by Naomi Jackson: about the experiences of the author with mental disorder before and after diagnosis, and her descriptions were raw and got to me. I'm really interested to read her novel and see what she does in fiction
11- Ghost Bread by Angelique Stevens: about ancestors and native americans and the difference between being a father and a dad. it's always hard reading about absent fathers and the ties that still connect you despite everything
12- The Gamble by Lina Mounzer: A story of addiction and gambling and fatherhood and faith and identity, mixed in with the politics of being Lebanese and then an immigrant. I liked how the author mixes the personal with the general, and how her idealized view of her father changes as she got older and knew more and more about him
13- The Wrong Jason Brown by Jason Brown: all the trigger warnings for suicide attempts, emotional abuse, domestic unrest, addiction and more. The problem is the essay started with the idea of many people named "Jason Brown", and then it veered to talk about the author's traumas and how they affected his life and relationships without a good connection between the two parts of the essay.
* 14- Between These Lives, Azeroth by Tanner Akoni Laguatan: gives me the vibe of "Ready Player One", in using nostalgia (mainly video games) to deal with trauma, heartbreak and grief. This essay is about the author's experience with the game "World of Warcraft" and the friendships and relationships he made through that game, viewed in hindsight during the recent pandemic. heartbreaking and relateable.
15- Among Men by Calvin Gimpelevich: it was kinda interesting till they mentioned the "occupation", then I lost interest.
* 16- China Brain by Andrea Long Chu: investigation into mental illness with personal experience and the chemistry of the brain. very enlightening and intriguing and I liked the prose very much
17- What She Would Always and Should Always Be Doing by Kaitlyn Greenidge: the struggle of identity in the teenage years of the author's life really resonated with me.
18- My Gentile Region by Gary Shteyngart: the topic didn't interest me, and yet another mention of the "occupation".
19- Anatomy of a Botched Assimilation by Jesus Quintero: the author's style in recounting the story of his family's immigration and his poor and difficult childhood was confusing, especially in dialogues, so it was a bit hard to follow who was saying what.
20- Mother Country by Elias Rodriques: anothe article about immigration, but this one deals with the author's mother and her immigration journey and returning back to the mother country after so many years, and how the perfect "home" doesn't really exist.
* 21- At the Bend of the Road by Aube Rey Lescure: this was heartbreaking and traumatising and scary and a real fear to every woman everywhere. between the tale of the author's hikes along a famous road and the violence women encountered, she also talk about Bolano's novel 2666, which also centers violence on women. and it's just a big doze of depression for me. I ean, I can relate to her shock and her response to the trauma. I've been in a similar situation (not as horrifying but still scary) and I chose the same reaction.
* 22- If you Ever Find Yourself by Erika J. Simpson: another heartbreaking essay about poverty in the usa, told in the stule of bulleted advices. it's unfair seeing these conditions and the author wrote about it with raw honesty and biting sarcasm, and I liked that despite feeling horified by the topic
23- The Lost List by Ryan Bradley: this was just fine.
1- Abasement by Brian Blanchfield: I like looking at personal essays with a personal eye as well, and I can relate to the author not able to purchase a house because of his "identity", because even despite the differneces of our identites, I've had similar issues because of the different identities I hold, and it's all just very cruel and unjust.
2- Drinking Story by Elissa Washuta: from the title, it really is a story about the author's drinking and quitting and how she makes the journey into a narrative. interesting writing stle even if the topic wasn't to my liking.
* 3- Fire & Ice by Debra Gwartney: I cried. This has to be one of the hardest articles about losing a spouse. It interwieves personal crisis and love with geography crisis and natural disasters. I felt for the author and her train of thoughts in times of grief.
* 4- Ghosts by Vauhini Vara: I love the idea and the excution of this one, and it's always intriguing to see how creatives use AI tools that challenge and endanger their livelihood. I too am endangered by AI, because of my profesion, so it's always a topic I'm intrigued by. The author used AI to write short pieces about the death of her sister, each time giving the AI more to work with: from more info to more stylistic guidlines to say, and the result is very intriguing.
5- The Wild, Sublime Body by Melissa Febos: Interesting examination of the way we look at our bodies and femininty, and the destinctions we draw between us and animals. I was more intrigued by the beginning of this essay more than the way it resolved.
6- Baby Yeah by Anthony Veasna So: this story starts with a disclaimer that the author died in 2020, and finding that he died from a drug overdose makes me feel sad. I don't know what or how to feel to that news. this essay itself is about a friend of his who died a year prior. and just there's so much sadness here. It's more than just an essay about two people who died, it's about them being "minorities within minorities" and that's always interesting to read, but in the end, it left me very depressed.
* 7- The Gye, the No-Name Hair Salon, the Coup dEtat, and the Small Dreamers by Jung Hae Chae: this essay is imbedded in the author's experience as a child in South Korea then their immigration to the US. It's about the culture and hard lives of women in Korea through political upheavels, tight impossible finane situations, horrible men, and wife-beating husbands.
8- It had to be Gold by Justin Torres: It felt incomplete to me, but it's mainly about authenticity and identity and the way we choose to display that identity, maybe be wearing a golden cross chain.
9- Futurity by Alex Marzano Lesnevich: about the author's transition mixed with experiences about the pandemic, and these two events overlapping really would make anyone existential, wondering about the concept of "future"
* 10- Her Kind by Naomi Jackson: about the experiences of the author with mental disorder before and after diagnosis, and her descriptions were raw and got to me. I'm really interested to read her novel and see what she does in fiction
11- Ghost Bread by Angelique Stevens: about ancestors and native americans and the difference between being a father and a dad. it's always hard reading about absent fathers and the ties that still connect you despite everything
12- The Gamble by Lina Mounzer: A story of addiction and gambling and fatherhood and faith and identity, mixed in with the politics of being Lebanese and then an immigrant. I liked how the author mixes the personal with the general, and how her idealized view of her father changes as she got older and knew more and more about him
13- The Wrong Jason Brown by Jason Brown: all the trigger warnings for suicide attempts, emotional abuse, domestic unrest, addiction and more. The problem is the essay started with the idea of many people named "Jason Brown", and then it veered to talk about the author's traumas and how they affected his life and relationships without a good connection between the two parts of the essay.
* 14- Between These Lives, Azeroth by Tanner Akoni Laguatan: gives me the vibe of "Ready Player One", in using nostalgia (mainly video games) to deal with trauma, heartbreak and grief. This essay is about the author's experience with the game "World of Warcraft" and the friendships and relationships he made through that game, viewed in hindsight during the recent pandemic. heartbreaking and relateable.
15- Among Men by Calvin Gimpelevich: it was kinda interesting till they mentioned the "occupation", then I lost interest.
* 16- China Brain by Andrea Long Chu: investigation into mental illness with personal experience and the chemistry of the brain. very enlightening and intriguing and I liked the prose very much
17- What She Would Always and Should Always Be Doing by Kaitlyn Greenidge: the struggle of identity in the teenage years of the author's life really resonated with me.
18- My Gentile Region by Gary Shteyngart: the topic didn't interest me, and yet another mention of the "occupation".
19- Anatomy of a Botched Assimilation by Jesus Quintero: the author's style in recounting the story of his family's immigration and his poor and difficult childhood was confusing, especially in dialogues, so it was a bit hard to follow who was saying what.
20- Mother Country by Elias Rodriques: anothe article about immigration, but this one deals with the author's mother and her immigration journey and returning back to the mother country after so many years, and how the perfect "home" doesn't really exist.
* 21- At the Bend of the Road by Aube Rey Lescure: this was heartbreaking and traumatising and scary and a real fear to every woman everywhere. between the tale of the author's hikes along a famous road and the violence women encountered, she also talk about Bolano's novel 2666, which also centers violence on women. and it's just a big doze of depression for me. I ean, I can relate to her shock and her response to the trauma. I've been in a similar situation (not as horrifying but still scary) and I chose the same reaction.
* 22- If you Ever Find Yourself by Erika J. Simpson: another heartbreaking essay about poverty in the usa, told in the stule of bulleted advices. it's unfair seeing these conditions and the author wrote about it with raw honesty and biting sarcasm, and I liked that despite feeling horified by the topic
23- The Lost List by Ryan Bradley: this was just fine.
December 4, 2022
This year's edition should have been called The Best American Autobiographical Essays. I love memoirs, but I could have used some essays about topics mixed in here. My favorites were Among Men by Calvin Gimpelevich and If You Ever Find Yourself by Erika J. Simpson.
Read
December 4, 2022An absolute stunner. Best BAE I've read. Thanks, Papa Chee!
December 20, 2022
Some real standouts (“Azeroth” and “At the Bend of the Road”). I wish there’d been more variety in subject matter and tone.
November 22, 2023
Alexander Chee put his whole chussy into selecting these
January 24, 2024
I quite enjoyed most of this collection! I picked it up originally because I really enjoy Alexander Chee's writing so I figured that I would like the collection that he crafted. Each essay is memoir like in nature, a small snapshot into someone's life. Of course I loved this and found quite a few authors who I would like to read more from! A few of the essays in the middle fell a little bit flat for me, but the ones at either end made up for them. I liked that each of the essays were very relevant (or one could say heavy) topics... which makes sense given the book was from 2022. Maybe I'll start keeping up with the best essays each year? Maybe I'll start reading literary journals?
Ones that stood out to me were: Fire and Ice by Debra Gwartney, Ghosts by Vauhini Vara, *Baby Yeah by Anthony Veasna So* (probably my favorite, I already picked up one of his books to read more!), Between These Lines, Azeroth by Tanner Akoni Laguatan, If You Ever Find Yourself by Erika J. Simpson, and The Lost List by Ryan Bradley
Ones that stood out to me were: Fire and Ice by Debra Gwartney, Ghosts by Vauhini Vara, *Baby Yeah by Anthony Veasna So* (probably my favorite, I already picked up one of his books to read more!), Between These Lines, Azeroth by Tanner Akoni Laguatan, If You Ever Find Yourself by Erika J. Simpson, and The Lost List by Ryan Bradley
January 4, 2023
All editions of this series reflect the interests and concerns of the time they were collected, as well as the personality of the editor. This is no exception. I can say that based on this, I will not be looking for any of Mr Chee's other works as he seems to be a rather unpleasant human being.
There are a few quite good essays in here--the last one "The Lost List" was a good note to end on "Fire and Ice" was the clear standout, and "The Gamble" had some of the loveliest prose. "Ghost" had a troubling but fascinating structure. The one on Gye is also pretty interesting but not a stop and re-read standout like the others.
That's...pretty much it.
Even the quite good "At the Bend of the Road" was well written but...I mean, it's hardly novel that women feel unsafe in public space. Unless you're Alexander Chee, I guess.
One criterion I use when I read these collections is to view them as a possible textbook for an advanced nonfiction writing course. And let me just say hahahah yeah I can't use this one. I figured that out by the first essay which had a cleve title and concept that the essay did not live up to. I cannot make my students spend 15 weeks reading this collection of Chee's problematic attempt at woke bona fides. I mean, at best I could have a good laugh at the guy who wrote an entire essay about his 3/10 penis pain--as someone with a chronic illness, who teaches students who often also have chronic illness and pain and have relatives who are disabled, we would laugh this poor man right out of the country. I LONG for a 3/10 pain day. Maybe it's true: men are just babies.
But in reality, I'd be mobbed with angry parents if I assigned the penis essay. And honestly, though Chee wanted to show his wokeness by including two essays by trans people, he chose ones that are, at root, frankly misogynistic, meaning they seem to have a real loathing of the female body. Not only do I not want my female students to have to have it in their head that trans men as well as gay men just hate their anatomy, but I don't think it's wise to have the trans community represented by, you know, trans men who hate women. Also: Why are there no essays by trans women? Why are there essays expressing discomfort and disgust at the female body but none expressing that same alienated loathing of the male?
And let's not even get into how my students would throw things at the essay where the young man realizes he's gay by crushing on an uncle. The incestuous notes of that really just, you know, support a stereotype of gay men as perverts and sexual deviants, that I would rather not support, especially with queer students in the class. I'm not sure why Chee is okay with that.
The real stinker of an essay was "Baby Yeah". From its incoherent structure and the fact it was chosen not for being good writing but because the author committed suicide, it was a nonstop unpleasant read for the complete and utter lack of introspection. It felt like reading one of those AITA posts on reddit, except So never asks that question--that would require something less than his 100% commitment to narcissism. What could have been a touching story of trying to get over a friend's sudden suicide is basically, well, the reader could see it coming, because this man shut out any attempt at anyone trying to reach him. Because, you see, he's an ARTIST and no one suffers as much as him or knew the friend as he did, etc. I know people are hurt and lash out in grief, but an essay worthy of being one of the Best American Essays should have some level of introspection--of saying, yeah wow I was an asshole when my whole class was grieving the loss of our classmate and I made it all about me and myself and that was terrible. Nope. He is unapologetically self-righteous.
The rest of the picture of Chee's personality can be filled in from here: he has issues with women, he's narcissistic, and bigoted. The only essays he selects from Black or Hispanic writers are the ones you'd 100% expect with no surprises--oh an essay by a child of immigrants who is delinquent because he feels he has no place? Wow, that's...not original at all. The child of the poor Black woman who commits crimes and goes to jail? Yikes, that's a hell of a stereotype, again, to be holding up. The unintentionally tragic essay is the one written by the person whose mother wants to move back to Jamaica because, well, basically she's gotten the BLM mind virus and sees racism everywhere in the US, but none in Jamaica. The erasure of Black on Black crime is hideous enough in the US, but to see it happen in real time by a Black woman? Hoooooooooo. Tough to watch.
So his understanding of Black and brown people is pretty much just the worst of the racial stereotypes--Brown people are hard working but not smart and have big families, Black people are poor, criminals and fatherless....I mean this feels racist to type here, but that is literally what is in the Best American Essays??? If this is the best American writers have--stereotypes and cliches--we are doomed.
There are a few quite good essays in here--the last one "The Lost List" was a good note to end on "Fire and Ice" was the clear standout, and "The Gamble" had some of the loveliest prose. "Ghost" had a troubling but fascinating structure. The one on Gye is also pretty interesting but not a stop and re-read standout like the others.
That's...pretty much it.
Even the quite good "At the Bend of the Road" was well written but...I mean, it's hardly novel that women feel unsafe in public space. Unless you're Alexander Chee, I guess.
One criterion I use when I read these collections is to view them as a possible textbook for an advanced nonfiction writing course. And let me just say hahahah yeah I can't use this one. I figured that out by the first essay which had a cleve title and concept that the essay did not live up to. I cannot make my students spend 15 weeks reading this collection of Chee's problematic attempt at woke bona fides. I mean, at best I could have a good laugh at the guy who wrote an entire essay about his 3/10 penis pain--as someone with a chronic illness, who teaches students who often also have chronic illness and pain and have relatives who are disabled, we would laugh this poor man right out of the country. I LONG for a 3/10 pain day. Maybe it's true: men are just babies.
But in reality, I'd be mobbed with angry parents if I assigned the penis essay. And honestly, though Chee wanted to show his wokeness by including two essays by trans people, he chose ones that are, at root, frankly misogynistic, meaning they seem to have a real loathing of the female body. Not only do I not want my female students to have to have it in their head that trans men as well as gay men just hate their anatomy, but I don't think it's wise to have the trans community represented by, you know, trans men who hate women. Also: Why are there no essays by trans women? Why are there essays expressing discomfort and disgust at the female body but none expressing that same alienated loathing of the male?
And let's not even get into how my students would throw things at the essay where the young man realizes he's gay by crushing on an uncle. The incestuous notes of that really just, you know, support a stereotype of gay men as perverts and sexual deviants, that I would rather not support, especially with queer students in the class. I'm not sure why Chee is okay with that.
The real stinker of an essay was "Baby Yeah". From its incoherent structure and the fact it was chosen not for being good writing but because the author committed suicide, it was a nonstop unpleasant read for the complete and utter lack of introspection. It felt like reading one of those AITA posts on reddit, except So never asks that question--that would require something less than his 100% commitment to narcissism. What could have been a touching story of trying to get over a friend's sudden suicide is basically, well, the reader could see it coming, because this man shut out any attempt at anyone trying to reach him. Because, you see, he's an ARTIST and no one suffers as much as him or knew the friend as he did, etc. I know people are hurt and lash out in grief, but an essay worthy of being one of the Best American Essays should have some level of introspection--of saying, yeah wow I was an asshole when my whole class was grieving the loss of our classmate and I made it all about me and myself and that was terrible. Nope. He is unapologetically self-righteous.
The rest of the picture of Chee's personality can be filled in from here: he has issues with women, he's narcissistic, and bigoted. The only essays he selects from Black or Hispanic writers are the ones you'd 100% expect with no surprises--oh an essay by a child of immigrants who is delinquent because he feels he has no place? Wow, that's...not original at all. The child of the poor Black woman who commits crimes and goes to jail? Yikes, that's a hell of a stereotype, again, to be holding up. The unintentionally tragic essay is the one written by the person whose mother wants to move back to Jamaica because, well, basically she's gotten the BLM mind virus and sees racism everywhere in the US, but none in Jamaica. The erasure of Black on Black crime is hideous enough in the US, but to see it happen in real time by a Black woman? Hoooooooooo. Tough to watch.
So his understanding of Black and brown people is pretty much just the worst of the racial stereotypes--Brown people are hard working but not smart and have big families, Black people are poor, criminals and fatherless....I mean this feels racist to type here, but that is literally what is in the Best American Essays??? If this is the best American writers have--stereotypes and cliches--we are doomed.
October 20, 2024
had no idea essays were capable of shaking me to my core 🫨🫨🫨
🥇”At the Bend of the Road”
🥈”Baby Yeah”
🥉”If You Ever Find Yourself”
🏅[honorable mention] “Her Kind”
🥇”At the Bend of the Road”
🥈”Baby Yeah”
🥉”If You Ever Find Yourself”
🏅[honorable mention] “Her Kind”
January 15, 2023
A terrific collection! Rather heavy on heavy subjects, but I guess we're living through some pretty heavy times.
November 7, 2022
This year's guest editor, Alexander Chee, chose well. The essays in BAE 2022 represent the zeitgeist of the era, this year of global pandemic and a climate of fire and ice -- raging fires and melting ice. "Fire and Ice," by writer Barry Lopez's widow, Debra Gwartney, is one of my favorites among this year's selected 23 essays. Another favorite is "Between These Lives, Azeroth" by Tanner Akoni Laguatan. In Chee's introduction to the collection he says, "This anthology was almost an anthology of elegies." There is a strong elegiac vibe, yes, but the anthology is also a tribute to creative nonfiction, which celebrates stories by those of us who have lived. So, everybody. These are specific essays by individual voices, yet they shine light on universal truths.
[Thanks to Mariner Books and NetGalley for an opportunity to read an advanced reader copy and share my opinion of this book.]
[Thanks to Mariner Books and NetGalley for an opportunity to read an advanced reader copy and share my opinion of this book.]
September 14, 2022
THE BEST AMERICAN ESSAYS 2022 is a rich collection of highly personal writings--some intensely moving, all superbly written and clearly thoughtfully chosen. A wonderful place to find new authors to seek out and a terrific addition to the "Best American Essays" shelf. Highly recommended.
Thanks to Mariner and to Netgalley for the opportunity and pleasure of an early read.
Thanks to Mariner and to Netgalley for the opportunity and pleasure of an early read.
January 21, 2023
The Best American Essays series is one of my must reads every year, and the 2022 edition does not disappoint. Guest editor Alexander Chee has chosen a nuanced assortment of essays running the gamut of experiences, all achingly illustrating what it means to be human. Two of my favorites were unexpected surprises, the contemporary female essayists Melissa Febos with "The Wild, Sublime Body" and Elissa's Washuta's "Drinking Story." Chee does an outstanding job of finding up and coming writers alongside the seasoned. Chee summons Susan Sontag in his introduction as he beckons "Welcome to my party" and what a party it is. I'm the guest who doesn't want to leave.
June 6, 2023
Glad I spent time with these thoughtful writers.
December 12, 2022
They are a heavy lift- I would have appreciated a few about joy.
January 28, 2023
This one was a journey for me. I chose to read it because I knew a bunch of essays from 2022 would be challenging for me - a 50 year old, white, cis, het man. I want to see how people are talking and thinking about their experience today. It came as no surprise that the essayists were talking about identity: gender, sexuality, ethnicity, and race. What cumulatively surprised me more and more with each essay as I read was how many words were devoted to graphic accounts of violence and trauma bound up in the experience of identity. Stretches of the book landed on me as a competition among the essayists to describe the most lurid account of alcoholism, mental illness, grief, beatings, betrayals, sexual abuse, or self-harm. What I came to realize is that the form of a collection of essays pulled from their original context is the reason for this effect - appearing originally alongside other, very different content in outlets like The New Yorker, N+1, or Wired, they must have created a very different impression on a reader. Through birth and circumstance, I have the good fortune not to relate to most of the traumatic experience described in The Best American Essays of 2022 - I was there to learn how people in America think and write about their experience today and I got that and appreciate it. My favorite is Vauhini Vara's Ghosts, where the author explores OpenAI's GPT3 by co-writing an account of her grief over the loss of her sister at a very young age to cancer with the generative AI algorithm. The results were fascinating and sometimes genuinely moving.
December 7, 2022
This was an impactful group of essays by some very talented authors.
July 2, 2023
I am a regular reader of these essay collections, and I can tell you that they vary considerably year to year, depending on the guest editor. Some years the collection is wide-ranging in type as well as content, and it feels like it tried to be a "best essays in general" and some years it feels like "best essays of a particular type" or "by a particular group of authors." This edition is essays of a particular type, heavy on elegies, heavy on poverty or oppression, heavy on physical trauma. Unrelentingly confessional. Chee indicates as much in his introduction. And yes, that meant I didn't feel as much surprise and joy as is often the case.
But these are strong essays, and several were unexpected. Erika J. Simpson's "If Ever You Find Yourself" is a scorching revelation of what it's like for a child in deep poverty (and their mother) laid out as a series of rules to live by: 1. The only things that matter, and the order of their importance, are food and rent. ... 3. Conceal what's real. Parade your poverty only for people who can help. ... 8. Avoid motels if you can. Motels are the easiest to get evicted from. ... 14. Other people will decide what is best for you. Two of the other essays are also structured by number, one being a sort of numbered list.
One of the elegies is for Barry Lopez, by his wife, describing being driven from their home by wildfires, and passing away in a strange house relatively soon thereafter. I hate that Barry is gone, hate that so much of his world was burned, but am thankful to have this memoir.
The last essay of the book is the only one that doesn't really fit the pattern, though it is a list in its origin, it is a pandemic essay, and it is a sort of elegy since it lists lost things. It's another entry in the evergreen roster of association-of-ideas essays that go right back to Montaigne and The Spectator. Ryan Bradley created the list and wrote the essay, and it sparked several ideas that went right into my writer's notebook.
The other essay that earned an exclamation mark in the TOC was Melissa Febos's "The Wild, Sublime Body." It is a memoir of body-consciousness and disaffection, that begins with the striking sentences: "My mother had raised me vegetarian, and though I harbored no real desire to eat meat, sometimes, in summer, I would take a hunk of watermelon to a remote corner of our yard and pretend it was a fresh carcass. On all fours, I would bury my face in the sweet red fruit-meat and tear away mouthfuls." A lot of truths in this one.
Quoting those lines reminds me of something very clever that Chee did in the Introduction: he made a long paragraph of the first sentences only of all twenty essays, in order of appearance. They were consistently interesting, and that paragraph would be an excellent teaching tool for teachers of writing to use. I intend to steal it myself.
A couple of the pieces had strong material, but were structurally a mess, leading to no real ending. And, I'll also admit, reading this many depressing stories was not what I had hoped for in the month of June. But there's real meat in here, not just watermelon, and I can't justify giving this less than five stars. Most of these voices were new to me, and that's a good thing, too.
Recommended.
But these are strong essays, and several were unexpected. Erika J. Simpson's "If Ever You Find Yourself" is a scorching revelation of what it's like for a child in deep poverty (and their mother) laid out as a series of rules to live by: 1. The only things that matter, and the order of their importance, are food and rent. ... 3. Conceal what's real. Parade your poverty only for people who can help. ... 8. Avoid motels if you can. Motels are the easiest to get evicted from. ... 14. Other people will decide what is best for you. Two of the other essays are also structured by number, one being a sort of numbered list.
One of the elegies is for Barry Lopez, by his wife, describing being driven from their home by wildfires, and passing away in a strange house relatively soon thereafter. I hate that Barry is gone, hate that so much of his world was burned, but am thankful to have this memoir.
The last essay of the book is the only one that doesn't really fit the pattern, though it is a list in its origin, it is a pandemic essay, and it is a sort of elegy since it lists lost things. It's another entry in the evergreen roster of association-of-ideas essays that go right back to Montaigne and The Spectator. Ryan Bradley created the list and wrote the essay, and it sparked several ideas that went right into my writer's notebook.
The other essay that earned an exclamation mark in the TOC was Melissa Febos's "The Wild, Sublime Body." It is a memoir of body-consciousness and disaffection, that begins with the striking sentences: "My mother had raised me vegetarian, and though I harbored no real desire to eat meat, sometimes, in summer, I would take a hunk of watermelon to a remote corner of our yard and pretend it was a fresh carcass. On all fours, I would bury my face in the sweet red fruit-meat and tear away mouthfuls." A lot of truths in this one.
Quoting those lines reminds me of something very clever that Chee did in the Introduction: he made a long paragraph of the first sentences only of all twenty essays, in order of appearance. They were consistently interesting, and that paragraph would be an excellent teaching tool for teachers of writing to use. I intend to steal it myself.
A couple of the pieces had strong material, but were structurally a mess, leading to no real ending. And, I'll also admit, reading this many depressing stories was not what I had hoped for in the month of June. But there's real meat in here, not just watermelon, and I can't justify giving this less than five stars. Most of these voices were new to me, and that's a good thing, too.
Recommended.
August 18, 2023
I only just (in the last year) got obsessively interested in reading essays, so this is my first collection of Best American Essays. I found it to be a thoughtful collection of wonderfully written essays and it makes me incredibly excited to pick up previous years’ collections. I thoroughly enjoyed these essays and felt inspired and moved by them. This collection (along with past years, I’m sure) is a great way to find new non-fiction authors.
May 12, 2023
It took me longer than I initially expected to finish The Best American Essays 2022. I haunted my local Barnes and Nobels when I first heard the collection was published. Nothing, no luck. I debated ordering it online, but it was the start of a new year, and I wanted to purchase this out in the wild. In comes Timbre Books in Ventura, CA, a small, independently owned bookstore I had never been to. The last place I would have ever expected to find this book, and there it was, misplaced in the fiction section, but there for me to find nevertheless.
I've read bits and pieces throughout the last couple of months. On breaks at my old and new job, in a coffee shop in downtown San Francisco, and at the airport waiting to catch a flight to Seattle. In this year's collection, I found essays that exposed me to realities I had never fathomed, ones that inspired me to be a more thoughtful and considerate citizen of the world, and others that folded me and forced me to sulk in my sadness in silence.
At first, I was excited to know that Alexander Chee, author of How to Write an Autobiographical Novel, edited the essay found in this collection. However, I remained engaged because of the collection itself. Overall, I encourage those interested in the essay form to join the party.
I've read bits and pieces throughout the last couple of months. On breaks at my old and new job, in a coffee shop in downtown San Francisco, and at the airport waiting to catch a flight to Seattle. In this year's collection, I found essays that exposed me to realities I had never fathomed, ones that inspired me to be a more thoughtful and considerate citizen of the world, and others that folded me and forced me to sulk in my sadness in silence.
At first, I was excited to know that Alexander Chee, author of How to Write an Autobiographical Novel, edited the essay found in this collection. However, I remained engaged because of the collection itself. Overall, I encourage those interested in the essay form to join the party.
July 6, 2023
4 / 5 stars
Favourite Essays in order of appearance:
- Fire and Ice by Debra Gwartney
- Baby Yeah by Anthony Veasna So
- Futurity by Alex Marzano-Lesnevich
- The Wrong Jason Brown by Jason Brown
- Between These Lives, Azeroth by Tanner Akoni Laguatan
- What She Would Always and Should Always Be Doing by Kaitlyn Greenidge
- The Lost List by Ryan Bradley
Favourite Essays in order of appearance:
- Fire and Ice by Debra Gwartney
- Baby Yeah by Anthony Veasna So
- Futurity by Alex Marzano-Lesnevich
- The Wrong Jason Brown by Jason Brown
- Between These Lives, Azeroth by Tanner Akoni Laguatan
- What She Would Always and Should Always Be Doing by Kaitlyn Greenidge
- The Lost List by Ryan Bradley
February 10, 2023
3.5 rounded up. Some standout essays, others I didn’t enjoy much or couldn’t connect with the style of writing. It’s tricky to rate a collection, but I appreciate what this does and the themes it puts into book-print as a reflection of a year in time.
November 22, 2023
My favorite essays in this collection:
Fire and Ice
Baby Yeah
It Had to Be Gold
The Wrong Jason Brown
Between These Lives, Azeroth
China Brain
My Gentile Region
If You Ever Find Yourself
Fire and Ice
Baby Yeah
It Had to Be Gold
The Wrong Jason Brown
Between These Lives, Azeroth
China Brain
My Gentile Region
If You Ever Find Yourself
October 21, 2024
I will be thinking about “My Gentile Region” on my death bed. This book contains an excellent collection of essays I’m looking to as my own writerly inspiration.
April 10, 2025
My favorites from this collection are:
Vauhini Vara's "Ghosts"
Justin Torres' "It Had to be Gold"
and Erika J. Simpson's "If You Ever Find Yourself."
Totally hooked and going to get another BAE collection. Thank you JOE for this wonderful gift!
Vauhini Vara's "Ghosts"
Justin Torres' "It Had to be Gold"
and Erika J. Simpson's "If You Ever Find Yourself."
Totally hooked and going to get another BAE collection. Thank you JOE for this wonderful gift!
October 31, 2025
Some great essays here and one life changing one.
December 17, 2022
Chee has gathered a collection of strikingly fresh essays, many of them by writers at the beginning of their careers. Standouts include Laguatan’s elegy for his cousin via the MMORPG they once played together; Gimpelvich’s startling meditation on masculinity and Judaism from the perspective of transition; Quintero’s finely detailed, itchingly poignant tale of his own “botched assimilation”; and Greenidge’s can’t-look-away account of struggling to act in an offensive play as a lonely, deeply insecure teenager.
2022 Read Harder Challenge
18. A “Best _ Writing of the Year” book for a topic and year of your choice.
2022 Read Harder Challenge
18. A “Best _ Writing of the Year” book for a topic and year of your choice.
August 6, 2023
My favorite was story #3, written about Barry Lopez’s death from his wife’s, Debra, perspective. Some others were good, others I skimmed.
August 6, 2023
3.5/5 stars. A great collection of essays from 2021. Unsurprisingly, a lot of them dealt with grief and loss, coming out of the immediate aftermath of the COVID pandemic. I found solace in a few essays. I included some of my favorite sections below.
"The immigrant children of my fiction had taken charge of their lives, as I had mine. But only fools and Americans think they can outrun the past."
"But violence often comes regardless of one’s choice."
"A quote from David Wojnarowicz, an artist and essayist who shaped me as much as any other, kept me company in 2021 as I made my choices. His friend the artist Zoe Leonard told him she feared her photographs of clouds were not up to the cultural moment of the AIDS crisis. He said to her, 'Zoe, these are so beautiful, and that’s what we’re fighting for. We’re being angry and complaining because we have to, but where we want to go is back to beauty. If you let go of that, we don’t have anywhere to go.'"
"The miracle is that part of you gets to die, like you always wanted before, but part of you gets to live, like you didn’t plan for."
"Embrace the moment. Trust the wind to push you where you need to go. Be prepared to find your way back to center through the densest of fog. The only authentic discoveries are those that aren’t forced. Stop trying to control that which is beyond your control."
"Barry had been ill for a long time, but his death swooped down on us like a hawk, talons first. Startlingly fast. Everything that gave me stability and safety—our long marriage, our house, the surrounding woods, the river—was unreachable now, in dodgy shadow, and this was probably the source of my irritation toward the book in my lap. It dared to tap into what terrified me most: a reminder that there’d be no clear answers for a good long stretch; that I would have to swim in bewilderment and confusion before I could emerge on some distant shore. Solutions would roll out in front of me in their own time and at their own pace, in their own shape. In the meantime, I would have to learn to drift."
"I have run for close to twenty years and I will run for the rest of my life."
"My sister was diagnosed with Ewing sarcoma when I was in my freshman year of high school and she was in her junior year. I didn’t understand then how serious a disease it was. But it was—serious. She died four years later. I thought I would die, too, of grief, but I did not. I spent the summer at home, in Seattle, then returned to college, at Stanford. When I arrived there, the campus hadn’t changed, but I had. I felt like a ghost... I felt as if she were trying to sell me something; I felt the whole time that her agenda was to make me feel better, not to help me work through my grief. I didn’t want to feel better. I wanted to feel what I felt. I wanted to feel the loss, the grief, the anger, the sorrow, the fear—all of it. I wanted to feel it until it stopped hurting. But it never stopped hurting."
"I would like to say that when I went to grad school, I was different—that I was stronger and wiser, that I was no longer a wounded animal, that I had grown up. I would like to say that. But I would be lying. In grad school I was skinny and pale and quiet. I rarely spoke in class. I was getting my master’s degree in literature, but I was still a ghost. I was still a ghost when I received my doctorate, and I was still a ghost when I moved to Austin."
"But as I said, it wasn’t my life that was going on—not the life I’d had. As I said, I was a ghost. The truth is that, even all these years later, I remain a ghost. You wouldn’t know it if you saw me. I’m not morose or retiring. I laugh a lot. In fact, I’m genuinely happier than many people I know. But I can’t help but feel that, on one level, I do not exist... Once upon a time, my sister taught me to read. She taught me to wait for a mosquito to swell on my arm and then slap it and see the blood spurt out. She taught me to insult racists back. To swim. To pronounce English so I sounded less Indian. To shave my legs without cutting myself. To lie to our parents believably. To do math. To tell stories. Once upon a time, she taught me to exist."
"'Queerness is that thing that lets us feel that this world is not enough,” Muñoz writes, “that indeed something is missing.'"
"This is significant because I’m not a finder, I’m a loser. A chronic loser. A term I discovered only a couple of days ago, listening to the writer Adam Phillips give a talk on an essay by Anna Freud. A chronic loser constantly misplaces everything—watches, phones, keys, wallets, gloves, hats, sunglasses, eyeglasses. Sometimes they are recovered, mostly they are not. From what I understand, this is a symptom of altered libidinal processes; something misfiring in the deep, where desires are formed, making attachment difficult. Am I reenacting some infantile drama of neglect? Perhaps, who knows. But this made sense to me: In our attachments, whether to objects or others, there exists a continual fluctuation of our energies. We wish to possess, to be possessed, and to be relieved of our possessions all at once. The hoarder solves the problem of value and attachment by holding on. The chronic loser lets it all go. Not only do I routinely misplace everyday items but essentials as well; I’ve lost more than one passport, my birth certificate, Social Security card, numerous licenses, an entire library worth of books. None of these things were lost together, mind you, not all at once, in a fire, but one by one, piecemeal. I once left a laptop on a train; it contained the only copy of a manuscript I’d been working on for years. But never in all that time did I lose any of my chains, or my gold cross. Until one day, I did."
"When someone dies, the only way to give condolences in Arabic is to hope that, despite all this, god smiles upon the future. There is no way to say, “I’m sorry,” or “my condolences.” It seems ridiculous, in fact, to offer up the smallness of individual contrition in the face of this, the grandest of all things. There is no “I” in any of the words offered up as consolation to the living over the departure of their cherished dead. Each dialect of Arabic has its own call and response for this occasion. A rote script that also gives the grieving something to say back, when they might otherwise have no words. In the Levant we say, “el ‘awad bi salemtak.” May the compensation for this loss be found in your own health. Or else, “el ba’iyyeh bi ‘omrak.” May the lost years of the deceased be added to your own life. The Syrians say, “inshallah khatimat al ahzan.” May this be the last of all your sorrows. And the response for all of these is to wish the blessing back, always accompanied by some variation of “inshallah.” If god wills it. Death is the greatest of obstacles, the strictest and most unchangeable of fates. It is the single certainty, written from the start. In its face, this truth must be acknowledged by all. When it comes to death, a surrender to fatalism is a great comfort. Otherwise the if onlys might shackle themselves to your feet, tripping you back into the past every time you try to move forward."
"His existence rebutted the lies of Jewish degeneracy, his triumph symbolized Jewish defeat of Nazism—but Schmeling’s defeat was not Hitler’s, the Holocaust did not end. I struggle with sports as a metaphor. Not only do athletics seesaw too easily (Schmeling went on to defeat African American Joe Louis—an Aryan victory—before Louis beat him in turn), but their use as a moral symbol disturbs. Black and Jewish (and queer) people have value whether or not they win fights; we shouldn’t judge the merits of Einstein or Rabbi Loew by another Jew’s boxing prowess. Schmeling, for his part, refused to join the Nazi party, kept an American Jewish manager, risked his life saving two Jewish children from the Holocaust, and befriended Louis; decades after their match, Schmeling—a philanthropist—helped pay, and acted as pallbearer, for Louis’s funeral. People transcend metaphor."
"The immigrant children of my fiction had taken charge of their lives, as I had mine. But only fools and Americans think they can outrun the past."
"But violence often comes regardless of one’s choice."
"A quote from David Wojnarowicz, an artist and essayist who shaped me as much as any other, kept me company in 2021 as I made my choices. His friend the artist Zoe Leonard told him she feared her photographs of clouds were not up to the cultural moment of the AIDS crisis. He said to her, 'Zoe, these are so beautiful, and that’s what we’re fighting for. We’re being angry and complaining because we have to, but where we want to go is back to beauty. If you let go of that, we don’t have anywhere to go.'"
"The miracle is that part of you gets to die, like you always wanted before, but part of you gets to live, like you didn’t plan for."
"Embrace the moment. Trust the wind to push you where you need to go. Be prepared to find your way back to center through the densest of fog. The only authentic discoveries are those that aren’t forced. Stop trying to control that which is beyond your control."
"Barry had been ill for a long time, but his death swooped down on us like a hawk, talons first. Startlingly fast. Everything that gave me stability and safety—our long marriage, our house, the surrounding woods, the river—was unreachable now, in dodgy shadow, and this was probably the source of my irritation toward the book in my lap. It dared to tap into what terrified me most: a reminder that there’d be no clear answers for a good long stretch; that I would have to swim in bewilderment and confusion before I could emerge on some distant shore. Solutions would roll out in front of me in their own time and at their own pace, in their own shape. In the meantime, I would have to learn to drift."
"I have run for close to twenty years and I will run for the rest of my life."
"My sister was diagnosed with Ewing sarcoma when I was in my freshman year of high school and she was in her junior year. I didn’t understand then how serious a disease it was. But it was—serious. She died four years later. I thought I would die, too, of grief, but I did not. I spent the summer at home, in Seattle, then returned to college, at Stanford. When I arrived there, the campus hadn’t changed, but I had. I felt like a ghost... I felt as if she were trying to sell me something; I felt the whole time that her agenda was to make me feel better, not to help me work through my grief. I didn’t want to feel better. I wanted to feel what I felt. I wanted to feel the loss, the grief, the anger, the sorrow, the fear—all of it. I wanted to feel it until it stopped hurting. But it never stopped hurting."
"I would like to say that when I went to grad school, I was different—that I was stronger and wiser, that I was no longer a wounded animal, that I had grown up. I would like to say that. But I would be lying. In grad school I was skinny and pale and quiet. I rarely spoke in class. I was getting my master’s degree in literature, but I was still a ghost. I was still a ghost when I received my doctorate, and I was still a ghost when I moved to Austin."
"But as I said, it wasn’t my life that was going on—not the life I’d had. As I said, I was a ghost. The truth is that, even all these years later, I remain a ghost. You wouldn’t know it if you saw me. I’m not morose or retiring. I laugh a lot. In fact, I’m genuinely happier than many people I know. But I can’t help but feel that, on one level, I do not exist... Once upon a time, my sister taught me to read. She taught me to wait for a mosquito to swell on my arm and then slap it and see the blood spurt out. She taught me to insult racists back. To swim. To pronounce English so I sounded less Indian. To shave my legs without cutting myself. To lie to our parents believably. To do math. To tell stories. Once upon a time, she taught me to exist."
"'Queerness is that thing that lets us feel that this world is not enough,” Muñoz writes, “that indeed something is missing.'"
"This is significant because I’m not a finder, I’m a loser. A chronic loser. A term I discovered only a couple of days ago, listening to the writer Adam Phillips give a talk on an essay by Anna Freud. A chronic loser constantly misplaces everything—watches, phones, keys, wallets, gloves, hats, sunglasses, eyeglasses. Sometimes they are recovered, mostly they are not. From what I understand, this is a symptom of altered libidinal processes; something misfiring in the deep, where desires are formed, making attachment difficult. Am I reenacting some infantile drama of neglect? Perhaps, who knows. But this made sense to me: In our attachments, whether to objects or others, there exists a continual fluctuation of our energies. We wish to possess, to be possessed, and to be relieved of our possessions all at once. The hoarder solves the problem of value and attachment by holding on. The chronic loser lets it all go. Not only do I routinely misplace everyday items but essentials as well; I’ve lost more than one passport, my birth certificate, Social Security card, numerous licenses, an entire library worth of books. None of these things were lost together, mind you, not all at once, in a fire, but one by one, piecemeal. I once left a laptop on a train; it contained the only copy of a manuscript I’d been working on for years. But never in all that time did I lose any of my chains, or my gold cross. Until one day, I did."
"When someone dies, the only way to give condolences in Arabic is to hope that, despite all this, god smiles upon the future. There is no way to say, “I’m sorry,” or “my condolences.” It seems ridiculous, in fact, to offer up the smallness of individual contrition in the face of this, the grandest of all things. There is no “I” in any of the words offered up as consolation to the living over the departure of their cherished dead. Each dialect of Arabic has its own call and response for this occasion. A rote script that also gives the grieving something to say back, when they might otherwise have no words. In the Levant we say, “el ‘awad bi salemtak.” May the compensation for this loss be found in your own health. Or else, “el ba’iyyeh bi ‘omrak.” May the lost years of the deceased be added to your own life. The Syrians say, “inshallah khatimat al ahzan.” May this be the last of all your sorrows. And the response for all of these is to wish the blessing back, always accompanied by some variation of “inshallah.” If god wills it. Death is the greatest of obstacles, the strictest and most unchangeable of fates. It is the single certainty, written from the start. In its face, this truth must be acknowledged by all. When it comes to death, a surrender to fatalism is a great comfort. Otherwise the if onlys might shackle themselves to your feet, tripping you back into the past every time you try to move forward."
"His existence rebutted the lies of Jewish degeneracy, his triumph symbolized Jewish defeat of Nazism—but Schmeling’s defeat was not Hitler’s, the Holocaust did not end. I struggle with sports as a metaphor. Not only do athletics seesaw too easily (Schmeling went on to defeat African American Joe Louis—an Aryan victory—before Louis beat him in turn), but their use as a moral symbol disturbs. Black and Jewish (and queer) people have value whether or not they win fights; we shouldn’t judge the merits of Einstein or Rabbi Loew by another Jew’s boxing prowess. Schmeling, for his part, refused to join the Nazi party, kept an American Jewish manager, risked his life saving two Jewish children from the Holocaust, and befriended Louis; decades after their match, Schmeling—a philanthropist—helped pay, and acted as pallbearer, for Louis’s funeral. People transcend metaphor."
November 15, 2022
Standouts:
"Fire and Ice"
"Ghosts"
"The Wrong Jason Brown"
"Between These Lives, Azeroth"
"China Brain"
"Among Men"
"My Gentile Region"
"Anatomy of a Botched Assimilation"
"Fire and Ice"
"Ghosts"
"The Wrong Jason Brown"
"Between These Lives, Azeroth"
"China Brain"
"Among Men"
"My Gentile Region"
"Anatomy of a Botched Assimilation"
Displaying 1 - 30 of 114 reviews