Margaret Whitford's favorite books about challenging maternal relationships

This lyrical novel is told from the perspective of two characters—the mother, Genevieve, and the daughter, Elizabeth.

In her old age, the Austrian-born mother reveals the family's complex history to her American-born daughter. Though Jewish, Genevieve’s father denied that history to portray the family as Catholic. Much of the novel’s power turns on the unraveling of that history.

The book made me think about the secrets that exist within families and the ways in which people shape their histories to suit the stories they wish to believe about themselves. I thought, too, about the cost of silence within families. I was also fascinated by the portrait of Vienna, as my mother spent a number of years there during a similar time period. 

I loved this gorgeous memoir, in part for its compelling structure—a blend of prose and poetry.

The narrator explores his grief in the aftermath of his mother's death, and in doing so, reminded me of the ways in which grief never leaves you, though it changes over time. Alexie seeks to, and succeeds in, animating his mother as the complex and deeply traumatized woman she was. Studying how he portrayed his mother gave me some new ways to think about how I might present my own.

This writer placed his very personal story of grief within the context of larger losses he experienced as a Native American man—familial, cultural, environmental. At the same time, Alexie's memoir is an ode to human resiliency. It is a memorable book. 

Given the nature of my own memoir, I couldn't resist the title.

In my book, I also sought to recover my mother and make sense of her history and the choices she made, as well as her influence on me. Cistaro alternates between past events and current ones as she comes to terms with her mother's abandonment. The book opens with the mother's leaving and ends with her death when the writer is an adult with a family of her own.

Cistaro recognizes that she will never fully understand her complex and self-absorbed mother. I found myself wondering at our capacities to fully understand another person, especially our mothers. I also thought about how the only way to work through our anger over a parent's behavior is through an effort to understand. 

This is a stunning debut by a talented artist.

In the memoir, the narrator grieves for her mother, and in doing so, revives her Korean self and the parts of her culture she'd rejected as an adolescent. A beautiful grief memoir that reveals the ways in which a daughter's ties to the woman who gave birth to and raised her never dissolve. In Zauner's case, one of the strongest ties is the love of Korean food she shared with her mother. She finds her way back to her mother through cooking.

The book made me think about the ways in which my mother and I connected through some third thing that created the bridge between us. 

A beautiful memoir in which the author reimagines her mother's life, telling the story in her mother's voice.

She benefited from stories her mother told her, much as I did in writing my memoir. Yang has taken it further by writing the book from her mother's perspective. It is the story of two generations of Hmong women—the author's mother and her grandmother. The narrative spans decades, starting with America's secret war in Laos. The narrator's mother fled Laos for Thailand and eventually the United States.

This memoir's structure gave me ideas about how to craft my own book, and especially how to animate my mother in the telling. It also made me think about the ways in which refugees remain outside the dominant culture of their adopted countries.