24 Things I Loved in 2024
a letter about my favourite things from the course of the year
Dear friends, near and far,
A (belated) merry Christmas, and a happy (almost) New Year. I know I preach only to the choir when I ask: where has time gone? Do you, too, feel like the year has zipped by?
Thankfully, newsletters are good markers of time. Since I last wrote you, I stage managed a play, started my third year of teaching, and went to (and fell in love with) Amsterdam. I am now in my last few days stateside before I fly back to London, having spent the holiday season with my family and soaked up my fair share of homemade cookies and strolls in New England’s early snowfall. I am excited for the month ahead, if only because I relish the opportunities provided by the clean slate of a new year. I also have a show opening the second week of January, and if anything gets your productivity in high gear, it’s a weekend of tech rehearsals upon one’s return.
I am a woman of many rituals, compiling my “best of” at the end of the year one of my favourites. My word of 2024 was nourish, and while there are still many ways in which I didn’t live up to my intention—as resolutions so often go—the art and media I consumed proved a comfort time and time again. As I’ve done in years past (see: 2022, 2023), I’ve collected these very things that made my year—largely for my own benefit, but I share them in case you also want a new book to read or an album to listen to.
If we share any favourites, you know I’d love to hear them; likewise, new recommendations of your own are welcomed. And I’m a broken record, always, but it bears repeating: I’m grateful for your reading. I don’t write consistently, but I love having a space for when I get the blogging itch.
Without further delay!
BOOKS
Putting together this list, I was surprised at the number of nonfiction titles that made it to the top. I suppose it reflects my desire to make a bit more sense of my life—my twenties having me realise how little I actually know—and my instinct to turn to books for possible answers. Once a bookworm, forever a bookworm.
Arrangements in Blue by Amy Key: Amy Key’s memoir, in which she reflects on being single, has made a thoughtful and beautiful addition to my growing collection of books that showcase life outside of a prescribed quest for romantic love. I’ve turned to it repeatedly throughout the year, referred to it in many a conversation, and I have a feeling I’ll continue to do so—a sign of a good book if I ever saw one.
Radical Intimacy by Sophie K. Rosa: On a very similar topic is Sophie K. Rosa’s brilliant Radical Intimacy. I’ve recommended it to so many friends that I’m nearly tired of my own endorsement, but I promise it’s a title worthy of checking out: it’s the first book in recent memory that inspired me to not only think differently but also take action towards cultivating a world where love in all its forms can flourish.
Troublemakers: Lessons in Freedom from Young Children at School by Carla Shalaby: I had read chapters of Carla Shalaby’s book in previous seminars, but it was only this summer that I decided to read it cover to cover. It’s a “teacher book,” in so much as its audience is clearly those in education, but a mighty good one, challenging traditional notions of behaviour and community in the classroom. Fellow teachers would do very well to read.
I Cannot Control Everything Forever: A Memoir of Motherhood, Science, and Art by Emily C. Bloom: Reading the compassion and curiosity with which Bloom writes about her daughter’s Type One Diabetes had me cry, for there is no more powerful a pleasure than seeing your experience affirmed in another person’s words. I fear no further description will really do this memoir justice, so I’ll leave it simply: grab it if you see it.
Talking at Night by Claire Daverley: For a fiction selection, I couldn’t let Clare Daverley’s stunning debut go by without another mention. In the spirit of Sally Rooney and Coco Mellors, Daverley follows her characters as they grow into their adult lives in the wake of grief. The story feels so suited to the season of life I’m in, and sometimes that’s all I need.
The Whalebone Theatre by Joanna Quinn: Another fiction recommendation! I read this just last month for my book club and found myself savouring every chapter, reluctant to let the characters go. It’s made the rounds in recent years on many “Best of” lists, but don’t let the hype scare you: the praise of its prose and delightful saga of a narrative is well earned.
MOVIES
I continue to live for an afternoon at the cinema: give me a new indie film and movie theatre popcorn, and I’m a happy gal. Save for a particular Glen Powell blockbuster, I found myself drawn to quieter films this year, where characters’ inner lives are at the centre. When paired with the right director, such stories can be magical things.
Janet Planet: To the point above, Annie Baker and understated coming-of-age movies are my match made in heaven (just ask my sister, who knew from viewing the trailer alone that Janet Planet would be “an incredibly Bella film”). With the phenomenal Julianne Nicholson at the helm, it is like watching the month of August unfold on the screen.
Twisters: One of my favourite memories from the year was seeing Twisters in the movie theatre. The drama! The chemistry! The feeling that you are in the eye of a tornado! Dare I call it a cinematic masterpiece? I think I must. If you haven’t yet seen it, I recommend watching it alongside the original inspiration starring Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt.
Anora: What stood out to me most about Sean Baker’s film—noted by some as a modern Pretty Woman, but I think that comparison is a disservice—is its sheer amount of heart. Mikey Madison is utterly captivating in the lead, finding layers of emotion in her character without avoiding numerous opportunities for humour. Like with most things I love, the last scene made me teary.
Didi: I chose Didi as my plane movie flying home, and my only regret was that I didn’t think to watch it sooner. It’s a pitch-perfect portrayal of adolescence in that so little happens beyond the ordinary—a fight with a sibling, a conversation with a parent, a crush on one’s classmate—yet in this all one’s world feels on the verge of collapse. The best coming-of-age stories, I’ve learned, are often the most tender.
How to Have Sex: Pardon another coming-of-age movie recommendation, but I know what I like and it’s clearly a female director making a film with a fantastic female lead about the difficulties of communicating what you want and need as a teenage girl in a world that is, largely, dead set against you. If you share my taste, I have no doubt you too will love How to Have Sex.
MUSIC
Close friends know that it takes me over an hour to get to work, a commute I’d hate were it not for the opportunity it provides for some deep listening. This year also had me walking to many rehearsals, new and beloved albums often accompanying me as I went. This is all a roundabout way of saying that music is well-suited to a life on the go, and I appreciate the artists below whose songs formed the soundtrack of my year.
Kneecap’s Fine Art: I was torn between including Kneecap the film and Kneecap’s newest album Fine Art, so please know that both have captured my heart. Who knew that I’d become obsessed with a group rapping about Irish republicanism, among other political and social issues, in their native Irish? Seeing them live was a highlight of my year, and the album has made my long erg sessions at the gym bearable in the time since.
Lemoncello’s Lemoncello: If Kneecap is my wild card pick, Lemoncello’s alternative folk tracks fit squarely in my tried-and-true music taste. The two friends, also Irish, have been nominated as Best Emerging Folk Act, and their warm and wistful debut album lends every reason as to why. I now tend to listen to it as I mark students’ essays, but I’m convinced it suits all seasons and a range of occasions.
RAYE’s My 21st Century Blues: I was shocked that RAYE wasn’t my top artist of the year (it was Noah Kahan, for the record, equally good) because I listen to her exceptional album, My 21st Century Blues, on the daily. If you want to be blown away, let me direct you to her live performance at the Royal Albert Hall, which is how I first discovered her music; I’m convinced, still, that she has one of the best voices in pop today.
THEATRE
I intentionally slowed down my theatre consumption this year at the same time as I stopped making theatre and then, slowly, eventually, started making theatre outside of work again. (A conversation for another day, but there is so much magic to be found in community theatre!) There are a few landmark shows that I imagine would make this list had I snuck them in this month—I’m looking at you, Cat on the Hot Tin Roof—but I was pleased that there was so much gold in what I did see.
The Years (Almeida Theatre, London): Almeida’s production, starring a talented cast of five and directed by an equally talented Eline Arbo, was a masterful lesson in ensemble storytelling. Join me in reading the memoir by Annie Ernaux on which it’s based or, at the very least, catching it again when it starts a well-deserved West End run this spring.
Till the Stars Come Down (National Theatre, London): I can think of no other way to put it: Beth Steel’s piece about a family wedding and the personal and political drama that accompanies it is just a darn good play. I have one of my classes watching it now as inspiration for their devised piece, and on my second viewing, I’m reminded that crafting such a poignant story for the stage is no small feat.
Gatsby (American Repertory Theater, Boston): The Florence and Machine fangirl in me couldn’t get enough of the The Great Gatsby stage adaptation that premiered at ART over the summer. (Florence Welch wrote the music, while Rachel Chavkin directed.) In its current form, it’s a bit too long and some moments unwieldy, but you better believe I’ll be seeing it again when it inevitably finds a home on Broadway.
Red Pitch (@sohoplace, London): Red Pitch transferred to the West End after a sellout run at the Bush, and I still would have passed it by had it not been for the slew of recommendations I received from friends to see it. To have missed it would have been my mistake, for it’s a stellar play about friendship and ambition in one’s youth. I think playwright Tyrell Williams would agree with me: I want more theatre that wears its heart on its sleeve.
Sh!t Theatre: Or What’s Left of Us (Soho Theatre, London): I’ve yet to see a Sh!t Theatre production I haven’t absolutely adored, and their latest piece, Or What’s Left of Us, only follows suit. By the time I realised the true topic at hand, I was already well immersed in a piece that is as hilarious as it is gentle. Best of all, I just learned it’s returning to Soho Theatre for an extended run so we can all (happily! delightfully!) go see it again in the new year.
OTHER
To wrap us up, an assortment of other things I’ve enjoyed for some reason or another. Call it the “grab bag” category!
“Thresholds: Amy Lin”: Jordan Kisner’s essay collection, Thin Places, remains one of the best I’ve read, and so it’s no surprise that I hold her podcast, Thresholds, in similar high regard. Her conversation with author Amy Lin over the summer was a treasure, full of wisdom on grief, relationships, and making a life that I love to contemplate.
Francis Alÿs: Ricochets at the Barbican: Entering this exhibit, you would have been greeted by the delightful sound of children playing. And that was really the essence of Francis Alÿs: Ricochets (and Alÿs’ work more broadly): to capture the wonder and ingenuity of children’s play. If you didn’t catch it at the Barbican over the summer, you can fortunately find and watch many of the videos on his website as I do regularly.
America’s Sweethearts: Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: You and I and everyone else probably heard about the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders documentary series that landed on Netflix over the summer. I ended up binging an episode before work each day—a fun treat, try it—and was utterly gripped by the look into a (our) world where beauty and manners reign supreme.
Cross-Stitching: The Internet tells me it’s the season of grandma hobbies, and let me tell you: I’m game. Bored at home and in need of something to occupy my hands, I picked up cross-stitching over the summer, and it’s proven my new favourite activity to unwind after a busy school day or rehearsal. Throw on an audiobook, and I have my evening plans sorted.
Group Hug: Finally, I sound slightly dramatic, but Elise Granata’s newsletter has made me a better person. I know I’m not the only one trying to figure out what it means to be in community these days, and her weekly writing on gathering, working with, and caring for others has become a regular source of inspiration in my inbox. Her post, “Thinking of You,” is a great piece to start with if you also want to subscribe.
And that brings us to the end! Thanks, as ever, for following along. I hope your New Year’s Eve is a joyous one and that the new year brings you warmth, comfort, and motivation in the ways you need. I’m prone to saying “take gentle care” as a sign-off, but I say it because I need it: let us all continue to take gentle care in the pursuit of a better world.
xoxo,
Bella