More Books for People Who Like Books

Good Morning, Monster by Catherine Gildiner

Reading memoirs about the therapeutic process is my idea of a very good time. The genre (see also: Group by Christie Tate, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone by Lori Gottlieb) is not nearly as robust I'd like it to be--so if you have recommendations in this category that I might be missing, please hit me up. In Good Morning, Monster, clinical psychologist Catherine Gildiner recounts the inspiring  therapeutic journeys of five of her patients, all of whom were victims of extraordinary abuse and trauma. An indigenous man, grieving the loss of his wife and child. A Chinese American man suffering from sexual impotence. A successful young woman with debilitating herpes outbreaks, and two more female patients with distinct manifestations of crippling anxiety. Gildiner is a good storyteller and candid about her own blind spots and failures, and heavy as this one was, it was right up my alley. 

Yellowface by R.F. Kuang

When Chinese American literary darling Athena Liu dies suddenly, her jealous friend, the less successful (and white) novelist June Hayward, steals Athena’s unfinished manuscript and publishes the novel as her own. When June's deception is discovered, the fallout becomes a searing commentary on the publishing industry, cultural appropriation, representation and the tokenization of minorities in America. More broadly, the novel explores the fluidity of truth and originality, the blurred line between inspiration and appropriation, and the stories we tell ourselves to justify the way we shape and interfere with the real-life stories of others. Many reviewers described Yellowface as satire, but even that label in this context feels slippery. While the premise and numerous plot points are deliberately exaggerated and implausible, the novel’s portrayal of cancel culture is deadly accurate. I listened to this as an audiobook and enjoyed both the pacing and suspense and the twisting way the author played with the novel’s central ideas.

Happy Go Lucky by David Sedaris

David Sedaris is a sure bet. In this most recent collection he takes on the pandemic among other topics, including the death of his dad, Lou. If you’re a fan of audiobooks, this one is a combination of live performances and recorded readings, and it’s wonderful.

Wellness: A Novel by Nathan Hill

Brilliant. Brilliant. Brilliant. Nathan Hill, author of The Nix (which I loved), has written a novel that's jam packed with ideas, without sacrificing story and characters. It's a brick. Six hundred pages, looping back and forth in time, unspooling the stories of Jack and Elizabeth, a couple who fell in love instantly. Or did they? Tackling questions like “what is true?” And “what is real?” this masterpiece takes you down so many glorious rabbit holes (from hypertext to conspiracy theories to prairie burns to algorithms to the academic language of postmodernism) you might wonder in moments how they could possibly connect. And then they do. All hail Nathan Hill.

The End of Drum Time by Hanna Pylvainen

This breathtaking, super cinematic novel is about what happens when a Lutheran pastor in a remote Scandinavian village tries to convert the indigenous Sami reindeer herders to Christianity. Spoiler: it does not go well. This is a story about faith, knowing, culture, colonization, family, social hierarchy, authority, and belonging. It is fabulous. 

Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma by Claire Dederer

An exploration of what we are meant to do with the art we love when the artist who created it is revealed to be a monster. Roman Polanski, Bill Cosby, Michael Jackson, Miles Davis, Woody Allen (to name just a few). Can we continue to consume their work? Should we? Dederer is a terrific (and witty) host on this topic—drawing readers into her research and thought process—and ultimately arriving at an answer that feels nuanced, smart and satisfying.

Blank by Zibby Owens 

I got this free as an Amazon First Read and it started out promising. Plucky narrator, quick pacing, chick lit energy. But the premise (an author can’t come up with an idea for her second novel so, desperate, she submits a blank manuscript and calls it a “commentary” on the rigged nature of publishing) is so absurd, the novel just can't recover. Instead, the story snowballs into an avalanche of ridiculous coincidences and unbelievable plot points that are so ridiculous, I kept reading thinking there had to be a catch. Surely it would get smarter? But no.

The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai 

Every time I tell someone how much I loved A Little Life, they ask if I’ve read The Great Believers. Both are novels about friendship and love and chosen family. Both are sweeping epics. Both will break your fucking heart. I’m so glad I finally got to this. Panning back and forth from the Reagan 80s AIDS crisis to Paris in 2015, The Great Believers is about life and art and time and death and how these forces shape one another. It’s beautiful.

The In-Between by Hadley Vlahos: Unforgettable Moments During Life’s Final Moments

This is a sweet and (very) earnest memoir of a young hospice nurse who cares for people from different religious backgrounds and walks of life in their final days and moments. Hospice is such an invaluable resource to people who are dying and the people who love them; I wish we talked about it (and death in general) more. Focused on maximizing a patient’s comfort and quality of life—as opposed to treating disease—hospice nurses like Hadley Vlahos facilitate peaceful transitions from this world to the next. And if you don't believe in a "next", this memoir might just persuade you otherwise.

Hello, Beautiful by Ann Napolitano

Loved it. Loved it. Loved it. The most beautiful kind of love story: the kind of love story that includes love of family—in, particular, sisters—and close friends. Beautifully plotted and told. I don’t want to give anything away, but this is mainstream fiction at its very best. 

1000 Words by Jami Attenberg

Fifty-four writers offer advice about writing. Bite sized essays. Some unique perspectives. Good food for thought, especially if you're in a writing rut.

Salt Houses by Hala Alyan

A multi-generational family saga beginning in Palestine, 1963, Salt Houses is a beautiful exploration of personal and cultural identity and what it means to belong to a place and a people. Challenging the narrow western perception of what it looks like to be Arab or Middle Eastern, Alyan introduces us to a family with diverse temperaments, longings, and perspectives on religion and politics and parenting and love. It's the kind of story the world sorely needs right now (and a good book club selection).

Yoga by Emmanuel Carrere 

Carrere is a renowned French writer of non fiction. this book, Yoga—a memoir of sorts—had been calling to me from a high shelf of The Bookshop for several years before I finally brought it home. It’s wonderful. What Carrere originally intended to be a pithy little volume on yoga and meditation is transformed into something darker, richer and more expansive when an act of terrorism and a crushing bout of depression waylay his plans. Carrere is funny, precise, and deeply honest. I loved this.

The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert

An absolute f*cking masterpiece. A sweeping epic that is so delightful to read (and listen to. I did both and I highly recommend the audiobook). Elizabeth Gilbert is a national treasure (regardless of how you feel about Eat Pray Love). My mother (whose taste in books was not dissimilar to mine) warned me off this years ago, and I put it down. When my friend Amy referred to it as a work of art and one of her all time favorites, I gave it another look. Thank God. The cast of characters is rich and nuanced and lovable, the plotting is brilliant. and the subject matter (yes, botany—but really the nature of "capital E" Existence) is handled with supernatural mastery and finesse. Ten stars. (Also, I can only guess the reason my mother didn’t like it is because it has a number of masturbation scenes, which are hilarious and vital to the story.) 

The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

It was about time I spent some quality hours at the pulpit of Audre Lorde. Hers is an intellectual ferocity that’s both humbling and instructive. “The Uses of Anger”—an essay that is more reckoning than reading—offers an epic framing of tone policing : “If I speak to you in anger, at least I have spoken to you: I have not put a gun to your head and shot you down in the street …” This is a collection that belongs on every bookshelf. (Also, is it pronounced Audrey or Audra; Internet consensus is unclear and I heard two people pronounce it two ways on a recent podcast.)

Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar

I'm no longer surprised when poets produce the most beautiful and innovative fiction. Martyr! is a deep, warm, readable, creative, current and wildly original exploration of what it means—in the face of demons and death and labels and love and cultural stereotypes—to create a life that matters. Highly recommend.

No Bad Parts by Richard C. Schwartz 

Healing Trauma & Restoring Wholeness with The Internal Family Systems Model

If you listen to the podcast We Can Do Hard Things you may have heard Schwartz’s sessions with hosts Glennon, Abby, and Amanda. I’d heard of Internal Family Systems (IFS) prior to those episodes, but the podcast got me more curious. The Internal Family Systems model (which is not, as the name might suggest, about our actual families of origin, though their voices may play a role) is fascinating and makes so much sense to me, based on my own experience and the conversations I’ve had as a volunteer crisis counselor. IFS normalizes the idea that each of us consists of various parts. When those parts are healthy and working together, things are good. When a part becomes burdened by some kind of trauma, it acts out and wreaks havoc. This is a great introduction to the model, written for regular people. If you’re interested in why you do certain things that feel counterintuitive or injurious to your self, I highly recommend taking a look.

Lives Other Than My Own: A Memoir by Emmanuelle Carrere

Now I'm a forever fan of Emmanuel Carrere. He is a master storyteller. In this memoir (of lives other than his own) he bears witness to two deaths: one sudden, to the tsunami in Indonesia, and the other, long and drawn out, to cancer. The emotional and narrative detail here is so specific and precise, like the best investigative reporting infused with poetry. I was moved to tears walking through Shelby Park, clutching my Kindle app, reading the final chapters (and I'm medicated within an inch of my life, so that's saying something). Writing like this is why I learned to read and walk at the same time. Really beautiful.

Forever, Interrupted by Taylor Jenkins Reid

And finally, for you lovers of chic lit, this is a very (very) sweet read that starts with an ending. Elsie Porter and Ben Ross fall in love almost at first sight and marry shortly after. When Ben dies tragically within months of their meeting, Elsie is shattered—by the loss, by how little time they had together, and by the way people diminish the validity of her suffering because their relationship was so brief. Alternating between flashbacks and the present, Jenkins Reid depicts Elsie and Ben’s whirlwind romance with so much tenderness and heart, it’s easy to buy in to her grief and root for her as she fumbles toward a future as Ben’s widow. 

Next stops: Amanda Montell's new release and Percival Everett's critically acclaimed reimagining of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from the perspective of Jim the runaway slave. What's on deck for you?