Books like Bookish People — picked by fans

I love the way this book moves between Scotland and Sudan, as told from the perspective of a devout Muslim woman working as a translator for a Scottish academic at Aberdeen University. The story itself is a work of translation and a highly original rewriting of the encounter between East and West, Islam and Christianity, English and Arabic.

All those binaries break down: the English, for example, is Scottish, and the way to pronounce Arabic turns on a difference between Arab-speaking regions so that in both speech and writing, the reader encounters subtleties of translation usually overlooked in the tiresome cliches about “West” and “East.”

I love teaching it to learn with my students the politics of translation. The book has my favorite rewriting of that famous map-pointing scene at the beginning of Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness”—Aboulela restores as Arabic names the blank spaces on the map of… show more.

I loved the portrait of late 14th-century feudal England in this story of a master illuminator and his forbidden English translation of the Bible.

There are not many books set in this period, and it really immersed me in the time. Lady Kathryn of Blackingham Manor is a character that is both strong and vulnerable, and I was really rooting for her and for her relationship with Finn, the craftsman, to work out. The monastic life is excellently described, as is the craft of illumination.

This is a book that stayed with me for a long time with its rich portrayal of the past.

Widowed. Rants, Raves and Randoms is a great read for widows and widowers, but really anyone that had a loss or knows of someone that has. It's excellently written, easy to read, and thoroughly engaging but mostly will make your heart smile. A beautifully told, heartbreaking love story, but mostly it will leave you with optimism and lingering warmth. It gives one hope that brighter days are ahead and love survives, even in death.

I was initially reluctant to read a novel about Nazi Germany, but I’m so glad I did. Shattuck introduces us to three women—Marianne, Benita, and Ania. Each has a uniquely compelling story, and I came to care about them all. These characters brought me a new understanding of how German women dealt with the Nazi era and its terrible aftermath. And importantly, Shattuck brings compassion to the three women, each of whom was striving to find a way through a treacherous and sometimes soul-warping period. Ultimately, the author leaves us with insights into our own often frightening times.

I picked this book up, thinking it might have to do with witch trials in Europe during the 17th Century, and in a peripheral way, it does because it’s very loosely based on the life of Katharina Kepler, the mother of famous astronomer Johannes Kepler. (And really, how can you resist the title.) But the novel delivered so much more.

It’s a witty, searing meditation on community, gossip and envy, the strictures of society, the corruption of power, and a woman’s determination to be her own person. Add to that some of the funniest, most absurd situations I’ve read in a long while. Some sections of the novel are truly laugh-aloud.

Newly widowed Miss Julia, a pillar of her small southern community, is the poster child for my wise Nana’s theory that things never turn out the way you think they will when she finds herself smack dab in the center of a smarmy love triangle scandal involving her late husband.

I adore Miss Julia’s razer-sharp wit as she morphs from a clueless stuffed shirt into an endearingly strong southern woman who doesn’t take crap from anyone.

I am a big fan of a fast-paced tale that deftly weaves comic characters through a plot wrought with hand-wringing angst. Miss Julia and her cast of crazy characters does not disappoint.   

I love the central female character in this book, Cora Seaborne, who can swing between admirable and ridiculous over the course of a page. I love the dark atmosphere created by the marshes of the Blackwater, where Cora is determined to find evidence of a mysterious creature presumed by locals to be malevolent.

The estuary is a menacing presence in reality (people and animals are sucked in and lost in times of bad weather) and in the imaginations of the villagers. I also love the way that this provides a backdrop for various tumults of the soul experienced by the characters as Cora crashes into the settled lives of a local minister and his family, wreaking accidental havoc.

I found this novel about a young, widowed mother living through Bangladesh’s 1971 Liberation War both eye-opening and deeply touching. Having recently moved to Bangladesh myself, I welcomed the chance to learn more about my host country’s history while at the same time being transported into the fictional lives of Rehana and her two adolescent children, Maya and Sohail.

Tahmima Anam’s expert storytelling and razor-sharp observation made me feel as if I were right there with the characters, facing the same impossible choices but also experiencing the same unexpected moments of passion and beauty. 

This book is an amalgam of different experiences. DuBoi Blanch, from an elite upbringing, comes to stay with his sister Stella, who criticizes him as “sub-human” and “coarse.” The book exposes distinct cultures, attitudes, and conflicts, displaying aristocratic and ordinary lifestyles. 

I love the book because it delves deeply into emotional conspiracies, introducing desire, which is the most conspicuous and established component of emotion and has been presented both physically and mentally. Suspense is hanging in the air as we see the initial sexual assault being perpetrated by Blanche’s brother-in-law. 

The story's conclusion serves to underscore the theme that unchecked desire can lead to downfall or suffering, highlighting the inherent risks and moral dilemmas associated with pursuing one's ambitions without considering the broader implications. It provides a moral lesson or insight into the human condition, showing how the choices driven by desire can shape the course of our lives and… show more.

I fell in love with Abigail Thomas’s memoir, her wise voice and writing style.

Her brief vignettes capture the sacredness of ordinary moments: a dog on the couch, a shared meal, a loss remembered. She taught me that healing isn’t dramatic; it’s built quietly through presence and acceptance.

Reading Safekeeping feels like sitting with a friend who has lived, grieved, and found peace in the small details that hold a life together.