100 Books Like A Jury of Her Peers

I roll very hard for books about amazing people who make themselves seem human, too, not via false modesty but just people honest about their journey and the mistakes they made along the way.

Tina Fey was the youngest favorite child growing up in Philadelphia and had to learn that the wider world would not always give you a gold star on your homework the way she had always been given as the baby of her family and the only girl. And when she moved to Chicago to make it in sketch and improv comedy, she worked as a receptionist during the day, wrote cold scripts for SNL, and trained at Improv Olympic at night with the likes of Rachel Dratch and Scott Adsit. She was not the best in the room, far from it, and I love her and her clarity and directness for telling us, the reader, how… show more.

Before I knew Leslie Jamison as one of my favorite contemporary essayists and spotted bylines in the New Yorker, she wrote this memoir/cultural biography of alcoholism, which, if you’ve ever read books about alcoholism, is different and bold and brave and shining like a new dime different than all of them. 

Jamison and I are both veterans of 12-step programs. And most of our tribe has read enough memoirs of addiction and seen enough movies of the same to last us about 3 lifetimes. But Ms. Jamison goes one very important step further, telling the stories of famous authors she idolized who made being drunk all the time part of their image and work and then asks the very important question “Why are only male authors allowed to be sloppy drunks and have it be charming instead of dangerous and pathetic?” 

I love these kinds of questions, and I love… show more.

This book made me want to sing out loud. Here’s why…

I submit that the best way to see something or someone you think you know everything about is to listen to a genius talk about them. This book is filled with the geniuses I learn at the feet of. Taffy Brodesser-Akner (of Fleishman is in Trouble) on Taylor Swift, Novelist Kate Christensen (who could make laundry drying on a line seem fascinating) on Tina Turner, Susan Choi on Stevie Nicks, and Elissa Schappell on Kim Gordon, and so much of this sort of praise and generosity.

It makes you want to listen to everyone in here, read everyone in here, and hug them all first. I love music, great writing, and amazing women doing both. It’s all here and rolling out of the speakers with beauty. 

I grew up in a family of all brothers and male cousins and with a second-wave feminist mother who marched with Gloria Steinem and Bella Abzug. So while my role models of feminine badassery were clear growing up, they were also few. Feeling like I was missing out, I often sought them out in my professional life and in my reading for fun. 

Lillian Hellman was as bad ass as they came. The author of a dozen plays, three memoirs, holder of six or so honorary degrees, blacklisted during McCarthyism who, to my amazement came roaring back with this book, among others to wow little me, who grow up rather ordinary in a rather ordinary midwestern college town. I was not romantically partnered with the greatest detective novelist in American history like Ms. Hellman was with Dashiel Hammett. I did stare down a hostile government trying to ruin my life… show more.

More than a century before Oprah, emancipated African Americans organized their own book clubs. They studied mainly the Western classics but also emerging black writers.

While Booker T. Washington emphasized vocational training, more militant black leaders demanded the right to read the same authors taught in elite white academies: One of their syllabuses included Milton, Spenser, Homer, Aeschylus, Longfellow, Dryden, Pope, Browning, Pindar and Sappho. Those poets, said one reader, inspired the "hope [that] the great American epic of the joys and sorrows of our blood and kindred, of those who have gone before us[,] would one day be written."

And that's exactly what happened. A young Ralph Ellison read everything in the segregated branch of the Oklahoma City library; Malcolm X was profoundly affected by Paradise Lost; and Toni Morrison minored in classics at Howard University.

In Latin America, the long shadow of Iberian imperialism and the racist caste system it left behind continue to dampen or mute expressions of indigeneity in our communities.

Speculative Fiction for Dreamers is a welcome countermeasure against this suppression of indigenous languages, myths, and traditions in Latin American storytelling. The contributors weave a tapestry of more-than-indigenous futurity, that is chimeric and cyborgian, a meshwork of continents and cosmovisions that blueprint futures and alternate presents in communion with ancestral pasts.

From Samy Figaredo’s Taíno-inspired play, to Ernest Hogan’s short story set in new Aztlán, the stories, comics, and poems in this anthology provide a Latin American perspective on indigenous speculative fiction.

This book showed me how engaging, intellectual history can be written. It’s never enough to present information. If you respect your readers, as Delbanco does, keep them entertained. These twelve essays mix the personal, literary, and social in a lively and often surprising, frothy brew. I also like the way Delbanco makes the distant past relevant for today’s world.

Individual sentences are a delight. You’ll leave the book knowing much more about the life, times, and work of writers like Harriet Beecher Stowe, Edith Wharton, and Richard Wright.

James Alan McPherson, a writer I’d long admired and my teacher at the University of Iowa, introduced me to The Hero and the Blues. Murray and Ralph Ellison were friends and intellectual sparring partners who worked out their ideas in conversation, and in letters to one another, so it’s not surprising that many of the same ideas occur in their work.

Here, Murray argues that the hallmark of great artists, Shakespeare, Duke Ellington, and Thomas Mann, is their ability to improvise; that is, to take what they’ve learned through formal study and come up with something new. More than that, Murray writes convincingly, the blues has been essential in affirming the humanity of black Americans despite challenges complicated by the particularities of our situation.

As with Ellison, I keep coming back to Murray, again and again, for inspiration and affirmation.

What made this book so interesting was Nesbitt’s investigation into the way rum has been used as a literary device. References to rum in novels, short stories, music, and other forms of popular culture allow Nesbitt to expose the way rum has shaped historical constructs of colonialism, racism, and patriarchy in the Caribbean.

For example, Nesbitt juxtaposes characters from Hunter S. Thompson’s The Rum Diaries (1998) with characters in V.S. Naipaul’s Miguel Street (1959) to expose the way sexism and masculine drinking practices reinforce colonialist and imperialist tropes of the Caribbean as a dangerous place stuck in an unchanging cycle of alcoholic malaise. In Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea (1966), references to rum reveal insights into colonial expectations of feminine respectability.

As a literary device, rum makes the Caribbean exotic, which has been used to demonize and eroticize Caribbean peoples. Rum was born in the coercive and dangerous environment of… show more.

This book opened a familiar world for me and transformed it into one I scarcely recognized. I learned so much I didn’t know about the iconic Jewish neighborhood of New York through the eyes of many photographers who were drawn to its crowded and dirty streets.

Some were Jewish photographers, some were not, but all of them contended with the challenge of picturing a neighborhood whose reputation set it apart from the rest of the city. I liked how Blair takes readers back into the 19th century and then travels up into the 21st century, letting us see both images and their afterlife.