Books like Better, Not Bitter — picked by fans

I want to hug this charming, wise lady! 

She went through a hard time by believing she had choices. I admire her for not being defeated. 

Now a celebrated psychologist, trauma specialist, inspirational speaker, and all-around loveably cute grandma, her story was gripping and moving, especially her brave trip to return to the Auschwitz concentration camp, to face the trauma of her time there during World War 2.

I was awestruck and impressed by how she confirmed her choice and life’s mission to be happy and helpful, no matter what. I was inspired, to say the least. It convinced me that if she can do that, I can tackle a few challenges too.

She is my new sweet Nana.

This is probably my favorite book of all time! It is a roller coaster of highs that make me so happy and then lows that break my heart. It’s definitely a “just one more chapter” story—I just had to see what would happen to Edward next. I wanted to jump into there to give that Rabbit a hug, take him home with me. Edward changes so much throughout his heart-warming journey.

It is my go-to book for kids ready for chapter books because it pulls them in and doesn’t let go. Edward is lost from the little girl who loves him for most of the book, but then, that miraculous ending… it doesn’t matter how many times I read it, I cry. Every. Single. Time.

There’s something special about Kate Bowler. At 35, diagnosed with cancer, she started questioning our culture of positivity that emphasizes can-do achievement.

Her insights are beautiful, and her buoyant humor is icing on the cake. I feel like we’re soul sisters, my friend Kate and me (we’ve never met). Her words resonate with my belief that life is a mix of beauty and bummers, and sometimes there is even beauty within the bummers. I believe we should show up for life and appreciate all of it. So, I’m drawn to Kate Bowler’s account of how her hard-won uncertainty has shifted her perspective.

Shame is a big piece of the mental illness puzzle; it can be both a symptom and what keeps us from reaching out when we struggle. I didn’t really understand that until I read Brené Brown’s extensive work on the subject of shame. 

I recommend Rising Strong specifically because in addition to helping to understand the shame piece, it gave me a useful tool. Brown talks about the stories we tell ourselves that are often rooted in our fears. For me that resonated because when my depression gets worse my brain tells me darker and darker stories about everything.

This book helped me see that and communicate it. Learning to say “the story I'm telling myself right now is” was a relationship game changer, especially during dark times.

This is how good Mosley is: I couldn’t escape the feeling that I knew his protagonist the whole time I was reading this. I swear I had met the guy somewhere. I walked those same Brooklyn streets, and Mosley’s portrait of them was strong enough and real enough to make me miss the place, even though Brooklyn is overrun with lawyers and stock brokers these days.

And Mosley’s secondary characters are just as real, and if you screw up, you just might meet some of them. One last thing: when Mosley writes about race, he does it in lowercase. That way, the story sneaks under your defenses and hits you much harder than if it was all in caps. Walter Mosley is not just a writer; he’s an artist.

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.

What I appreciate most about this book is how grounded and practical it feels.

Mark Godsey understands that wrongful convictions are rarely caused by a single evil actor or one dramatic mistake. Instead, they emerge from a chain of assumptions, pressures, tunnel vision, and institutional habits that slowly push cases in the wrong direction. I found myself nodding along constantly because the stories mirrored so many cases I have personally encountered over the years.

I also admire the book because it avoids sensationalism. It explains complicated legal and psychological concepts in a way that is accessible without losing nuance. That balance is incredibly difficult to achieve, and Godsey pulls it off beautifully.

Social work students are people people, so even with the interactive cases and vignettes that connect policy knowledge to practice, it can be difficult for students planning for a career in interpersonal therapy or crisis intervention to connect emotionally to complex policy topics like Social Security reform, net-zero carbon emissions, or criminal justice reform.

Barnett’s non-fiction title on the latter topic is page-turning and infused with heart. It also relates her activism and community organizing, in service of advancing justice in policing and corrections.

This part of her story helps students see how they, too, can take actions—even as an individual—that bear witness to our values and advance toward a vision of social change.

When Tracy Beaumont’s father is convicted for a murder he didn’t commit, she refuses to accept the verdict. Her unwavering determination to fight the long-standing racism in her small town shows the depth of its hateful history and its horrific impact on her father and family. This unforgettable, heartbreaking, and hopeful novel provides a mirror and window into the courage needed to fight against injustice.

Much as I enjoyed the film based on this novella by Stephen King (which I now understand is a standalone book—I read it as part of a story collection long ago), I enjoyed the novella more.

Why? Because of its extraordinarily likeable narrative voice, which has caused people worldwide to find themselves rooting for its narrator. How can you not want to know what’ll happen next to someone so candid and down-to-earth—who has experienced homicide and love so intensely? Especially when he wants intimacy yet also feels threatened by it.

In fact, just after I finished reading the Shawshank novella, I vowed to write a novel about someone in NYC who exuded those same attributes: candor, humility, and understated yet solid wisdom about murder and affairs of the heart. And after several years of writing with this goal, I finally tapped into the voice of Matt Connell, the narrator of… show more.