The best books for readers who feel naked without headphones

I read fiction to experience the delicious sensation of seeing the world through a protagonist’s eyes—the exhilarating leap into another time and place. As a teen, I often daydreamed about bumping into a favorite music performer. Part coming-of-age tale, part fish-out-of-water adventure, this novel follows innocent and strait-laced Mary Jane as she gets a crash course in how other people live when a famous rock star and his movie-star wife check into rehab at the house where she’s working as a summer nanny.

I shared Mary Jane’s sense of awe and curiosity and admired the grit and care she brought to the often out-of-control adults around her. This novel is a joy to read and a masterclass in character creation and development—I recommend it for aspiring and experienced writers.

I spend hours listening to my favorite songs on repeat until they feel like a part of me. Musicians take this obsession even further, practicing a song until muscle memory takes over—their hands instinctively shaping the melody. Dylan Woods, the novel’s protagonist, is a devoted violinist, and there are many excellent passages in this book about what music means to her.

When her childhood friend Langston—now an R&B chart-topper—comes back into her life, the blend of music and budding romance keeps me turning pages. But this book ultimately made my list because of Dylan’s exploration of identity. Like Dylan, I was adopted and resonated with Davis’s portrayal of the struggle to belong. 

When I was a teenager, I would have felt very much at home at the vintage record store in London where this story is set. (In fact, my hometown is named London, except my London is in Canada.) The quirky clerks who work there adore their boss, Rob Fleming, and spend their days attempting to outwit one another with music trivia and compiling funny and far-reaching Top Five lists.

As Rob negotiates a recent breakup, he must sort through his ex-girlfriend’s belongings and the emotional baggage he’s collected over the years. Though Rob is an adult, this still feels like a coming-of-age tale. I came away from the book resonating with the bittersweet awareness of what it means to become an adult with a list of careers if time and money were no object.

In the spirit of many of Rushdie’s books, an atmosphere of magic and myth sets the tone of this extraordinary story of love, death, passion, and rock and roll. The narrator, Rai, is a deceptively meek photographer who reminds me of The Great Gatsby’s Nick Carraway.

Rushdie’s stories lead me past historical and literary monoliths, and this story unfolds as a modern-day Orpheus retelling. But that’s the challenge—and reward—of reading Salman Rushdie: I get a history lesson, a dose of mythology, an unflinching lens on modern culture, a sweetening of magic realism, and a few belly laughs and tears along the way. 

I have a soft spot for books about writers, the journey to becoming one, and the creative life in general. This book surprised me and delighted my writerly heart, especially when protagonist Dani decides to write letters to her favorite Black women writers about a secret she’s afraid to share with her family. When a DJ friend dares her to fall in love with him in just three days, this gritty, urban, and heart-rending story unexpectedly takes on a rom-com energy that just works. 

As a social-emotional learning researcher, I was also wowed by how this writing/music/personal trauma narrative explores various forms of love: platonic, familial, romantic, and self-love.