My Top 10 books of the decade

Let me be clear here: These aren’t necessarily the 10 best books of the aughts. Just the 10 best books that I read. I tried to figure out if I should split into fiction-nonfiction categories, but that didn’t really suss out very nicely. I spent the first half of the decade immersing myself in novels and the second half in essays and long-form reporting. We all go through phases, I guess, and my Top 10 list reflects mine.

• White Teeth, Zadie Smith: Smith has proven to be a prodigious talent, and her novel On Beauty is probably more complete in its artistic expression. But this first novel — set among an interracial British family — was imperfect but oh so damned interesting.

• The Road, Cormac McCarthy: I know, Oprah, blah blah. Like Smith’s White Teeth, maybe this isn’t the “best” of McCarthy’s novels — but it is his most accessible: Written less baroquely than some of his other works. I finished it in one weekend. But it stayed with me since then.

• Fiasco, Tom Ricks: The Iraq War has produced a ton of finely reported and written books. But this piece by then-Washington Post reporter Ricks did more, probably, to document and define how the early years of the war had gone so devastatingly wrong — from the decision to invade to a host of post-invasion decisions that exacerbated a tense situation.

• Consider the Lobster, David Foster Wallace: Wallace was probably best-known as a novelist: His 1,000-page Infinite Jest is a required lit-hipster endurance test. But it was in his non-fiction that Wallace — freed from the demands of experimentation — really shined, and this collection of essays proves it. Covering everything from porn to meat-eating ethics to talk radio, Wallace still dropped plenty of five-dollar words. But he did so in the service of smartly entertaining and informing his audience.

• The Years of Lyndon Johnson: Master of the Senate, Robert Caro: If you want to know what power looks like — how it’s accumulated, how it corrupts, how big Texas businesses behind George W. Bush have always been around — this volume of Caro’s indispensible and ongoing biography of LBJ is a great place to start.

• Saturday, Ian McEwan: Atonement was his most celebrated work of the decade, but this novel — set in one day of the life of a London doctor shortly before the invasion of Iraq — has stuck with me longer. I think it’s because — unlike many people who took stark positions for or against the invasion — Dr. Henry Perowne is honestly conflicted: He knows the regime of Saddam Hussein to be terrible, but he also knows the war might well end up being terrible. This novel isn’t about Iraq, but it’s not not about Iraq, either. And in Perowne’s wrestling, McEwan articulated the not-quite-sure attitude that many people felt before the war.

• Pastoralia, George Saunders: I don’t know what to call this collection of short stories. Meta science fiction, maybe? It’s dyspeptic and cynical — and it’s darkest story, “Sea Oak,” about a woman who returns from the dead ready to start doing all the fornicating she’d never done in life, might well be its most inspiring.

• Gilead, Marilynne Robinson: I’ll say the same thing I did about Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois album: I’m not a Christian, but this novel comes as close as any sermon or piece of art ever has to making me reconsider.

• The 9/11 Commission Report: Not only well-reported — as it should be, given that the resources of government were at its disposal — it’s also surprisingly well-written.

• The Dark Side, Jane Mayer: There are many accounts of how the Bush Administration took us down the road to torture in the War on Terror. This is the most definitive.