Books like A Three Dog Life — picked by fans

I’m passionate about this theme because I grew up inside the kind of silence most people never see—the kind shaped by responsibility, fear, love, and the need to stay strong before you’re old enough to understand why. I’ve lived through the quiet wounds, the invisible burdens, and the unspoken grief that shaped every part of me. Stories like these make people like me feel less alone. They remind us that survival has its own language, and that the things we carry silently are worth naming. I write about quiet pain because it’s the world I came from, and the world I learned to rise out of.

My interest in healing and nature stems from a very particular source—my own search for answers in the wake of my wife’s premature death in 2007. I’d read somewhere that loss often either engulfs someone or propels them forward, and I didn’t want to end up in the former category, particularly as I had a young daughter to look after. So this list represents an urgent personal quest that started years ago and still continues to this day. The books have been a touchstone, a vital support, and a revelation—pieces in the jigsaw of a recovery still incomplete. I hope they help others as they’ve helped me.

I have been writing and publishing memoirs since I was in my twenties and working at The New York Times, where I learned the power of sharing what it is we know after what we’ve been through. What I now know is that memoir is the single greatest portal to self-discovery. I do not know how I feel about anything until I write it down. Teaching memoir for thirty years has allowed me to witness people reoccupy themselves after they take back the power of their stories from oppressors, abusers, medical trauma, and the other deep influences of life. Getting one’s story in one’s hands is the road to change. Memoir allows for that change, both for the reader and the writer.  

The concept of whether a woman can truly be the subject of her own life has always fascinated me. It was an invisible struggle I didn’t know I had. Until I set out to finish the 54 unmet dreams of my late father, whose life had been cut short in a car crash. It wasn’t until I looked at the world through main character lenses, the kind that just seem to come more naturally to men, that I was able to see myself truly. This is just one lesson from my book. If you’ve ever felt different, remember: you’re not. You just haven’t seen yourself as the main character yet. These books will guide you.

I have been writing and publishing memoirs since I was in my twenties and working at The New York Times, where I learned the power of sharing what it is we know after what we’ve been through. What I now know is that memoir is the single greatest portal to self-discovery. I do not know how I feel about anything until I write it down. Teaching memoir for thirty years has allowed me to witness people reoccupy themselves after they take back the power of their stories from oppressors, abusers, medical trauma, and the other deep influences of life. Getting one’s story in one’s hands is the road to change. Memoir allows for that change, both for the reader and the writer.  

Born to a Tibetan mother and an American father, I was raised in the U.S. As a girl, I wondered why things were always changing: the seasons, people, and places I loved. Growing older, I became fascinated with how to find happiness in a world where nothing lasts forever. After college, I lived in India with my Tibetan grandmother, learning about Buddhist “bardo” perspectives on life’s ephemerality. I realized that though we resist change, accepting impermanence allows us to live happier lives. I publish widely on impermanence and host a Tricycle interview series about bardo, with guests including David Sedaris, Elizabeth Gilbert, Malcolm Gladwell, Ann Patchett, and Dani Shapiro.

Spending four years writing a memoir—and several more editing it—made me realize how selective and fluid memory is. Our stories shift over time, shaped by distance, perspective, and even small sensory triggers that can surface long-forgotten moments.

These five books blur the line between fiction and memoir, each exploring how lived experiences are remembered and retold. They examine not just events, but the author’s perspective on them—and what that reveals about their inner world. From a child’s heightened sensitivity, to the thrill-seeking of a war correspondent, to the lasting impact of a parent’s murder, each work shows how memory shapes both a life and the story we tell about it.

I have been writing and publishing memoirs since I was in my twenties and working at The New York Times, where I learned the power of sharing what it is we know after what we’ve been through. What I now know is that memoir is the single greatest portal to self-discovery. I do not know how I feel about anything until I write it down. Teaching memoir for thirty years has allowed me to witness people reoccupy themselves after they take back the power of their stories from oppressors, abusers, medical trauma, and the other deep influences of life. Getting one’s story in one’s hands is the road to change. Memoir allows for that change, both for the reader and the writer.  

I’ve been an avid fantasy reader since I was old enough to read—starting with a Greek mythology book beloved by young adults everywhere—and my love with reading translated into my love of writing. After years of scouring for the perfect story, I have indie-published three fantasy romance books. I see reading as the gateway to all creative endeavors and a rekindling of the imagination. After almost two decades of storytelling, I have established a commitment to finding good stories and sharing them with others. I use my platform to uplift authors, especially marginalized writers or fellow indies, knowing that community is what makes reading fun.  

There is nothing quite like the thrill of discovery: both as a reader and writer. Stumbling upon books in bookstores, or chancing upon gems, is one of life’s greatest delights for me. There are so many works that never make it past the gatekeepers in a mainstream publishing market that has become increasingly narrower, drier, and scarcer of vision. There are indie publishers out there, doing what they can to support and showcase the written word, and Voice, and I feel grateful and enriched by the countless books and authors I’ve discovered through my curiouser and curiouser seeking. Listed below are some favorites I’ve encountered in my intrepid literary travels.