Books like Castle Waiting — picked by fans

Like many people, I’d heard so much about this classic that I was braced for disappointment the first time I read it.

But no, du Maurier’s rich, atmospheric prose gripped me from that famous first line. While I agree about the power of the iconic cast, such as the infamous Mrs. Danvers, I feel that the setting itself is just as powerful a character. I especially love du Maurier’s way of personifying the setting, so that things such as trees, and plants, and buildings come alive with malevolence.

The opening pages, for example, immediately fill you with unease despite the narrator talking about nothing more than the driveway leading up to the house on the estate! From the woods that “crowded, dark and uncontrolled” and the beeches with “white naked limbs” to the hydrangeas “rearing to a monster height without a bloom, black and ugly” and the nettles that “choked… show more.

This book has so many different elements—humor, the struggles of poverty, Cassandra’s dreams of success as a writer, quirky family members, and a tumbledown castle where the Mortmain family lives.

I identified with Cassandra’s efforts to keep a journal to hone her writing skills, having done so myself as a teen. I also enjoyed the unconventional take on a castle and Cassandra’s honesty in depicting (or “capturing”) it and its inhabitants with her words.

The dilapidated castle and the family’s foibles make this story approachable and enjoyable. It is one that invites the reader into the castle and the story as a welcome guest.

In a dreamlike fantasy world, a royal family holes up for the three-year winter in their vast, quiet palace. As the winter wends on, cabin fever sets in, but at least the young twins of the family have their giant cat Nemo to keep them company. Even if things don’t go so well for the characters, the palace, with its enormous baths, masses of eiderdown quilts, and mile-high windows for watching the snow fall, feels like a cozy place to spend a chilly night—or several hundred. Tillie Walden is a stunning talent, and in her debut graphic novel, created while she was still in art school, she emerges as a fully-formed artist with a personal, intimate style.

It’s the voice that gets me with We Have Always Lived in the Castle.

Merricat Blackwood is such a strange, chilling young narrator. Mysterious and vaguely unsettling, I could never be sure whether to believe her version of events. Or not.

Plus, it has some of my favourite story ingredients: a family tragedy, a murder trial, an unwelcome visitor, and a little bit of magic. 

This is a story about someone going through something difficult and not having the words to verbalize why it is having a drastic impact. The premise is simple: Laila’s parents are going through a separation and she has to stay home. One day, she sees a giant bird across the street and allows him to enter her house. Laila tries to keep him a secret, but this bird has other plans. To me, this book is about visualizing a difficult or unnamed emotion. It shows how messy such a process can be. Also, the illustrations are delightful.  

This is a non-fiction book about an artist doing a road trip with an adorable dog by the name of Bug. As they travel the historic highway, Shing Yin Khor reflects on this country’s history, what it can mean to live in the US as a person of color and why we’re often left with more questions than satisfying answers. Even the title reflects this as it’s an interrogative sentence rather than a declarative one. It’s a very personal journey and it reads like a friend telling you about their trip. There are various segments where the scenery does the talking.

As someone who did not grow up in this country, I have been in a similar headspace. I love this book.

A manga artist from Hokkaido, Japan's breadbasket, Arakawa's series about a burnt-out city kid enrolling in an agricultural high school on a whim is a hilarious, unrestrained crash course on what it takes to grow our food and get it to the table. If you love the tropes and beats of a high school story but from the nuanced perspective of an author well-acquainted with backbreaking chores, unglamorous farm life, and razor-thin margins for error, Silver Spoon is the series for you.

Korean food has quickly become one of my favorite cuisines to make and enjoy, and I owe a lot to Ha's book for making that possible. This is an excellent visual guide for wannabe cooks who want to check how finely to chop their ingredients or identify unfamiliar vegetables at the store – and Ha's beautiful art showcases the bright, inviting colors of Korean banchan while making it personal to her own journey with the dishes.

Amy’s book takes on the same topic, but from the perspective of an academic—and with a more balanced, objective approach. In particular, she examines the role of anti-comics crusader Dr. Fredric Wertham, arguing that his “role in the crusade against comics has been largely misinterpreted by fans and scholars alike, who dismiss his findings as naïve social science, failing to understand how his work on comic books fits into the larger context of his beliefs about violence, psychiatry, and social reform." 

This raw, experimental, poetic, and challenging graphic memoir began as an exploration of the work of artist/writer Tove Jannson (the creator of the Moomin novels and comics), but Julie Delporte goes well beyond the confines of criticism or biography to examine deep and difficult questions of gender and the challenge of creating a space to exist as a woman in a world haunted by the legacy of traumas past and present. Delporte’s colored pencil artwork is disarming in its beauty and simplicity, and her spare, intimate insights will stay with you for years to come. An essential read for our times.