Books like All Our Trials — picked by fans

We don’t usually hear about the toll that incarcerating a mother, a daughter, or a sister takes on the family left behind. Michelle Horton’s beautiful memoir gives us access to that experience. Horton’s life was upended after her sister, Nicole Addimando, was arrested for killing her partner in self-defense.

Horton documents the next several years of their lives as she, her parents, her son, and Nicole’s children (who Horton took guardianship of while Nicole was in prison) navigated Nicole’s arrest, trial, and imprisonment. Illustrative in the mechanics of putting together a successful survivor-defense campaign, it is heartbreaking and infuriating in its description of the toll Nicole’s prosecution took on the family.

Coming out of law school in 1994, around the time of the passage of the Violence Against Women Act, I firmly believed that criminalization was the way to address intimate partner violence. As a new legal services lawyer, I encouraged my clients to turn to the criminal legal system because I believed it would keep them safe. 

This book introduced me to the reality that that system was punishing survivors and showed me how Black survivors of violence were uniquely vulnerable to criminalization. I owe a massive debt to Beth Richie’s work.

Most domestic violence shelters have this message on their voicemails: “If you are in immediate danger, call 911.” But for many survivors, particularly women of color, calling the police can lead to disaster. Ritchie’s book came out at a time when people were beginning to talk about police violence against Black men, but before #SayHerName, Sandra Bland, and Breonna Taylor were regularly included in that conversation.

You might have known that Eric Garner was choked to death by the police in New York City; you didn’t know that several weeks later, police also choked Rosann Miller, then seven months pregnant, to death. Ritchie documents how police officers verbally, emotionally, physically, and sexually abuse women of color—and how we can resist police violence.

When Kim Williams overdosed, Leigh Stubbs and Tami Vance sought help and performed CPR on her until paramedics arrived and took her to the hospital. The doctors who examined Kim said that she had been sexually assaulted. Police focused on Leigh and Tami, mainly, if not exclusively, because they were lesbians.

Leigh and Tami were wrongfully convicted of the assault and sentenced to 44 years in prison. Beety, an innocence litigator, highlights how medical malpractice, unscientific expert testimony, prosecutorial misconduct, problematic judicial rulings, and, above all, homophobia led to Leigh and Tami’s (and other manifestly unjust) convictions.

Prior to my sister’s arrest, I didn’t spend much time thinking about the prison system. I also didn’t realize that up to 90% of women’s prisons are filled with victims of domestic violence and/or gender-based violence caught in the criminal legal system.

This epidemic is best articulated by Leigh Goodmark, a law professor and prolific writer, who clearly distills the issue in this book, while prescribing common-sense abolitionist solutions. This book is a concise and thorough education on criminalized survival, using the voices and experiences of survivors. 

I am relatively new to the writing of T Kingfisher and my introduction was the fantastic Nettle & Bone. Her prose is wonderful. Her story is whimsical. Strange magic runs throughout the book as an almost-nun determines she needs to kill a prince with the help of a dust-wife, a disgraced warrior, and a godmother who isn’t very good at her job. I am a complete sucker for faerie markets, in this case the Goblin Market. Her writing style is refreshing, and I have already bought a bunch more of her books.

I loved this book because it transported me to the sun-soaked island of Barbados—but not only the glossy image from travel magazines, which I’ve visited before like many other tourists.

It offers an unflinching peek at the authentic, sometimes tragic, side of paradise where the locals live and work. Following the intertwined lives of a grieving young mother, her violent husband, a wealthy widow, and a conflicted gigolo, this novel reveals the darkness that festers within the places we call home.

This book is a debut novel that could have been ripped from the headlines of any newspaper! I was as terrified as Grace through most of this book. I felt her personal terror for herself and her sister. I knew she was on her own with her parents in another country. When someone seems too perfect, there is a flaw somewhere. Please find it before you make any long term committments.

I saw myself in Grace. I could see myself making the same mistakes, overlooking things, because on the surface, everything seemed right. It’s all in the details. This was another book that quickly pulled me in. 

This is an intense story and kept me on edge while reading, wondering what would happen next. Shannon upped the thrills as the book went on.

I really appreciated the two main characters, Jason and Addison, who are Christians. Unlike many Christian novels, not everyone around them was also a Christian. This book was a realistic example of people who try to live a Christ-like life, but can get caught up in things out of their control.

The romance between Jason and Addison is fascinating as both come into it with so much baggage. I found myself rooting for them and Shannon does a great job building that suspense as well.

We all have that one boss that we’re pretty sure is cursing our name and our work. In this book, the boss may just be an evil wizard who has actually cursed four women to hide his misdeeds.

What drew me in was the fairy-tale elements of this novel. Again, it’s set in a modern context but uses fantasy elements to drive home the absurdity of modern work culture and the horrors that women experience at work, no matter how good they may be at their jobs. Especially if they’re good at their jobs.

It’s also a powerful story about fierce and angry women who find common ground and work together to improve their collective situations. Anytime women work together to destroy an evil villain, I’m in.