Books like A Girl Named Zippy — picked by fans

A few years back, my husband and I were forced to do some impromptu, middle-of-the-night sheep obstetrics.

We never would have had the nerve if we hadn’t spent the previous winter curled up reading everything James Herriot ever wrote. Which, in turn, we wouldn’t have done if his writing wasn’t so appealing!

I loved the various and variable characters (human and animal) that populate his memoir about working as a country vet in Yorkshire, and I learned a lot, vicariously, about pre-antibiotic veterinary practices.

Comfort reading at its best. (Both ewe and lamb survived.)

I love this memoir.

It’s open, honest, and really helps you get inside the head of someone who wants to play guitar, maybe more than anything. There’s great insight into addiction, too. And, of course, it has the gossipy rock and roll stuff that can’t be avoided when you’re a member of The Rolling Stones.

The book covers many decades; it’s an intimate look at a long, creative life.

I love bad-ass women who take the world by storm. I love it when they’re funny. I love it when they share their journey. Amy Poehler, badass writer/comedian, wrote her memoir in the form of a self-help book. The self-help aspect is in disguise, though. You’re supposed to think it’s a memoir/fun celebrity tell-all, but it’s way more than that. It’s a bossy bitchy blueprint on how to get through life with humor and honesty and loads of funny stories. 

Some of her advice: Talk To Yourself Like You’re Ninety and Treat Your Career Like A Bad Boyfriend. Amy’s snarky, smart, and silly stories about her successes and failures inspire me to be a badass, too. Humor and snark and advice. Yes, please!

I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a book this much.

Sean is a brilliant writer, and funny as all get out. We share a love of the South, a love of words, a fear of snakes, and an aversion to traffic. As I read, I earmarked nearly a dozen passages I shared with family and friends, like, “Covid cases climbing like decisions at a Billy Graham crusade” and “I have nothing against fog machines and stage lights, but ordering a Starbucks in a church lobby just feels wrong."

His account of his and his wife’s bicycle trek down the Great Allegheny Passage and the C&O Canal Towpath trail put to rest once and for all any aspiration I harbored about walking the Appalachian Trail. Some things are better read about!

I’m always looking for books about older protagonists; this one is set in a nursing home, so many of the characters are seriously older, but the main character is an endearing, middle-aged janitor and his interactions with the residents made this book a hard one to put down.

Ben’s obsession with numbers and patterns figures throughout the whole story, as does a previous life he’s attempted to leave behind. His relationships with various residents, a local podiatrist, and a woman from his past keep the story fast-paced and funny, but there’s an intriguing undercurrent of solemnity and a wonderfully satisfying surprise ending that left me with a big smile on my face.

Hard to imagine a memoir about suicide can be entertaining but, honestly, it was.

Sean Dietrich’s father shot himself when Sean was a child. The book is a roller-coaster ride of emotions Sean experiences as he comes to terms with that event. While the backdrop of the story is that sad beginning, the details of Sean’s life lived along the way are often funny.

His description of math and why he hates it is downright hilarious: “Math is one of those things the good Lord allowed on this earth to remind mankind that the devil is real,” that paragraph begins. Sean details his journey from being a high school dropout to becoming an award-winning, hugely popular author and columnist with brute honesty, a distinctly Southern perspective, and a wit that puts him right up there with Will Rogers.

As a new inductee to midlife, I was excited to read the funny tales of this book. As I age, I feel like a new member of a club that I didn’t necessarily want to be a part of. I didn’t mean to register or apply, but here I am. The author of this book would certainly commiserate because here she is, too.

We are both navigating what it’s like to be in a body that’s older in years than we feel. Likewise, we understand what it means to have a new generation become the louder voice in the room. Navigating aging is a wild ride, and it’s nice to have bedfellows as messy as me punching tickets for the seat next to me.

If nothing else, we can swap stories about creaking knees and complain about gas prices until we reach our destination. I love the humor and naked… show more.

Advice by way of memoir, which I liked more as it went along. Maybe it was a slow start for me because she had seemingly lucky breaks, and I’ve had struggles. By the end, I was in LOVE.

She is frank, ballsy, unapologetic, kickass riotous, with an apparent ability to moonwalk, all of which is to say totally New York City in a way that I badly miss, having left 30 years ago.

I relived some of my youth. I learned things and laughed.

Not only does geology shape the land, it can also shape the lives of those who quarry the stone. Rarely is this relationship between human and rock better portrayed than in Scott Russell Sanders’ thoughtful essays about the limestone country around Bedford, Indiana. With graceful and respectful prose, he tells the stories of a “piece of earth where the accidents of geology have yielded a special kind of stone, and where landscapes, towns, and the people themselves bear the mark of that stone.” And, if you seek to see this story on film, I can also recommend one of my favorite movies, Breaking Away, a humorous and passionate portrayal of life and biking in limestone country.

Along with Anthropology of an American Girl, this is one of the books that made me want to become a writer. More specifically, it opened my eyes to what a writer can do with a teenage subject.

The story follows a prep-school student, Lee, but Sittenfeld handles her experience with all the nuance of “adult” subjects. I also admire how Sittenfeld captures the labyrinthine social politics of an elite boarding school and comments on class and race hierarchies without ever feeling didactic.

I think people mistake this book as YA—I certainly did when I first picked it up as a thirteen-year-old—but don’t be fooled by that candy-colored ribbon belt on the cover. This is as complex a novel as they come.