Books like Chiefs — picked by fans

Kaya Clark is the wild child I longed to be growing up. Although her family story is tragic and well-explored, how she inhabits her world of nature and allows it to inhabit her is stunning. Once again, she is a young woman who is an outcast who manages to rise above her limitations and those placed on her by society. 

Beyond the incredible storytelling and intriguing plot lines, I was mesmerized by the natural world of the North Carolina marshes, being as much a main character as Kaya herself. The intricate details of the lushness and cruelty of the natural world were incredible. In looking back at my favorite novels, one of the commonalities is the writing’s ability to come alive in my head and to take up a permanent space as much as my own lived memories. This novel is one of those.

Many an idealistic young law student like me felt that jolt in our spine early on when we saw up in the balcony of that courthouse a sleepy Scout being told, “Stand up, Jean Louise. Your father’s passin’.”

The movie is as faithful to the novel as the medium would allow. The novel is told entirely from Scout’s POV and not only focuses upon the racism of the time and place, but also upon her coming of age as a tomboy and being told to act “As a little girl should.”

The book offers more to those of us for whom the rule of law and not of men is a passion, especially in Finch’s closing: “There is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of Rockefeller, a stupid man the equal of Einstein… That institution, gentlemen, is a court.” 

I love this nonfiction book because it reveals much about the history of Jackson County, Georgia, that I did not know when Floyd Hoard moved there in the 1950s.

Mike Buffington gives details of the corruption in the county, which was much deeper than Hoard knew when he continued making efforts to clean out the bootlegging and car theft rings in the area. Those criminal rings would later become known as the Georgia Dixie Mafia, the group that would order and carry out Hoard’s car bombing death in 1967.

I love the nonfiction book because Phil Hudgins tells the story of Billy Sunday Birt, who killed more than fifty people in the 1970s in Georgia before his arrest. I was intrigued by the honesty of Birt’s widow as she told of the fear she lived with as the true character of her husband unfolded and why she stayed with him because of the threats of what would happen if she tried to leave. I was also interested in how she tried to keep her faith in God as she learned more and more about the killings.

I love the book because Hudgins shows Birt's gradual dehumanization until a spiritual awakening in prison brings him to a recognition of the pain he has caused others. However, the awakening does not bring about the happy ending people might expect of such a story. 

Pierce writes intelligent military zompoc because he’d been in the thick of things during the Rhodesian war. He knows a thing or two about writing battle scenes because he’s done a thing or two in real life. This story is different because it isn’t about a tiny group of survivors trying to make through the apocalypse. It’s bigger in scope and encompasses one governor and the national guard doing all they can to hold the line against the undead hordes. Intelligent writing and “believable” scenarios set this military thriller apart from many of the rest.

I have loved Black literature written in Southern AAVE since reading Charles Chesnutt’s The Conjure Woman in graduate school. But perhaps what I love most about the narrator, Octavia (also known as Sweet Pea), is that she’s fluent in many languages: the language of the hood where she lives, of the classroom where she excels, and of the playground, where her poverty is often a cause for ridicule, but where her sassy, outspoken nature is treated with grudging respect. Early 1980s Atlanta is an unsafe place for children: drugs, gangs, and the Atlanta Child Murders are threatening their very existence, and like many of the stories on my list, Octavia’s triptych also ends with a departure. However, her wit and savvy make clear that, wherever she lands, she’s going to be alright. 

I love this book because it resonates with my leadership roles during various stages of my career. It is inspiring to read that Stacy Abrams, who has held successful leadership roles on a state and national level, faced and overcame many challenges.

She not only writes about the challenges, but she also provides practical advice and tools, such as activities that you can do to succeed in the face of challenges. I love the book because it is a source of motivation for being my authentic self and a resource for overcoming challenges in leadership roles. 

I loved Terri Blackstock's book for its compelling blend of mystery, faith, and family drama. The murder of Thelma and Wayne Owens, who ran Cape Refuge and ministered to those in need, sets off a gripping chain of events and implicates a family member.

The daughters are complex, unforgettable characters, and their determination to clear the accused's name and uncover the whole truth about their parents' deaths is intense and believable.

The plot twists and shady characters kept me guessing until the end. Blackstock's addictive writing style kept me glued to the pages, and her addition of faith without being preachy was welcome.

In 1946, two African American couples were lynched in rural Georgia by a white mob. Grooms fictionalized that account from the perspective of one of the victims, perpetrators, and a pre-teen eyewitness and in the process comes to terms with redemption, race, and violence not only in the South but in the nation as well. Grooms has the ability to juxtapose the beauty of the Southern landscape with the horrors that have occurred there with breathtaking imagery and conciseness. This book not just deals with the victims of such horrific acts, but the often untold damage done to the progeny of those who perpetrated the act. This is a fiction that will always be relevant as long as a nation struggles with injustice, oppression, and white supremacy.  

Set in the depression era in North Carolina’s turpentine pine forests, Rae Lynn Cobb learns a Tar Heel’s dangerous work. After life in an orphanage, she appreciates the work, a home of her own, and her loving husband. When he dies, with her grief-stricken help, she cuts her hair and flees dressed in his clothes and driving his rattle-trap truck. As a man, she works in a hazardous and treacherous turpentine labor camp and becomes indebted to the company-owned commissary. Like most labor camps, the owners have ways to keep indebted workers from running – dogs and guns. She gets locked in a sweatbox by a scheming man and survives, runs again, and finds peace. Rae does what is necessary with quiet grit and determination. For me, this book exemplifies what is missing in our world—personal responsibility—and I couldn't quit cheering for the heroine. A beautiful historical novel.