Books like Burger's Daughter — picked by fans

This is an angry book.

Rereading it made me angry all over again. Much about U.S. race relations has improved since Baldwin's essay was published in 1963. But rereading it now, after six decades when I myself have sometimes been active in anti-racist efforts, I was stunned by how penetrating and accurate his critique remains, and how enduring the depredations he described back then have proven to be.

And yet! And yet, the writing is suffused with empathy and, disarmingly, even with love. Discrimination and inequality made Baldwin a militant, but he never turned mean and never embraced violence. He is a model of how to stay humane.

I learned a lot about our damaged environment from Earth Day, first observed in 1970, and the mostly peaceful efforts it catalyzed. 

This novel, published in 1975, made me picture a different, militant green activism. Its characters go around torching billboards and smashing machinery. They're also endearingly ridiculous individuals. The book is a laugh-out-loud farce, which seemed to render their violence harmless and fun.

Violent action seemed appealingly bold to me back then. But—inspired by Abbey?—in the decades since, there has been a fair amount of what's called ecoterrorism. It's been a long time since I've cheered that on. I still find the book a romp, but it's fiction, not a template for saving the planet.

Didion's inability to make sense of America in the fracturing, turbulent mid-century years struck me as spookily familiar.

Many of the essays in this collection are personal, about herself; she was a cool and incisive observer, not a participant. But the pervasive atmosphere of disaffection and alarm she depicts drove many, including me, to take enormous risks for ill-conceived reasons.

She profiles one dreamer who found it shockingly easy to abdicate responsibility for making delusional choices: Linda Kasabian, who joined the murderous Manson Family, conned by its leader's charisma, and his promises of love and some vague idyllic future, into forgetting that actions can have fatal consequences.

A badly disciplined, poorly educated gang of young Nepalis, part of a separatist guerrilla insurgency, reminded me of my militant leftist former comrades.

If the Nepali boys' self-image borrowed from action-hero films, ours took inspiration from political tracts (and movies), perhaps more literate but no less cartoonish. (A real insurgency in Nepal, in the 1980s, failed. Ours, in the U.S. in the 1960s and '70s, failed too.)

The guerrillas provide one of the novel's interconnected story lines and sympathetic sets of characters. The place is a dreamily lush Himalayan locale. But the "inheritance," the legacy of colonialism—class division, poverty, alienation—renders it grim and all of its inhabitants' dreams perpetually frustrated. 

A brilliant book (who would dare publish this today?) by the author of the equally brilliant Ben’s Trumpet. In a South African township, some children expect their migrant-labourer fathers to arrive home after 10 months away. They wait, in a celebratory mood at first, but with increasing tiredness and uncertainty as the day and the night go by. They tell stories to stay awake. But the youngest falls asleep. A truck pulls up. It’s not their dads. Then the day dawns. And, with it, the fathers arrive.

There’s hardly any characterisation of the dads. They come to life through the children’s excitement and persistence. So does the deep emotion of an absent father returning. My boys have often chosen this book at bedtime. And they know it well enough to look up curiously when the dads arrive - to check if there are tears of happiness in my eyes.… show more.

This is one of my favorite books ever. I’ve read it many times, and it’s 500 pages long. The voice of the first-person narrator is so delightful I get hooked on the first page. Set in South Africa, Peekay is the ultimate underdog.

Emotionally deserted by his mom at boarding school, he doesn’t even know his own name and calls himself P.K. He’s a white English kid bullied by the dominant Dutch-descendant Boers as Apartheid (Governmental violent, oppressive racism) becomes law.

Peekay grows to become a champion boxer and champions the oppressed. I became obsessed with South Africa and could not look away from this story. It’s a wonderful example of a novel about an athlete, and even when I don’t like the sport, I adore the character and story.

I’m fascinated by the role fiction plays in helping us understand one another, the power it has to evoke empathy and awareness, and its place in teaching us humanity and helping us heal. After all, as Nadine Gordimer said, "Fiction uses metaphor to help us see the truth."

If I were a literary doctor, I’d prescribe this book, set during Zimbabwe’s economic collapse, as obligatory reading. You might consider it a vitamin. Dosage and directions for use? Read it once and, if you’re still unmoved, read it again...and again until you get it. Or read it simply because it’s an excellent book, and reading fiction is good for you.

I've loved just about everything that I've read by Gordimer, so it's hard to pick a favorite (The Lying Days is on another of my Shepherd shortlists!), but I've chosen one of her later titles here for balance.

One of the Novel Laureate's great post-apartheid works, this is a book with implications sadly not particular to South Africa—about freedom and accountability, love and family, and the normalization of violence. The style is a little unorthodox and can be tricky to follow, but Gordimer rewards readers who make the effort, which, to my mind, is very much worth the struggle.

I’ve loved Andre Brink’s books ever since I discovered them in my late teens. He’s a celebrated South African author of protest literature, and his historical fiction, Philida, is one of my favourites. 

It’s a tender and yet powerful story about a woman born into slavery to a white family, who becomes the mother of four children by the son of her master. Although it reveals the sordid past of the country, much of Philida’s power lies in how personal it is.

I love how nuanced and intimate the story is and how one woman’s story says so much.

I’m sure I’m biased, but I love that this book picks up where my book with the same title (for adults) leaves off. I’m very pleased that the author has highlighted the important conservation story of the African penguin (an endangered species), and the efforts to save it, including the hand-raising of African penguin chicks. The author discusses in detail the many ways that humans have impacted this species - both negatively and positively. This is definitely a book for older children, as it talks about the various threats to penguins, which could be upsetting information for younger children. But, for older children wanting to understand how a species becomes endangered, and how humans can help save those animals, this is a highly informative book. Best for ages 9-12.