Books like Consider This, Senora

This book is a brilliant ethnography and one of the first books I read as a young anthropology student, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman.

It is about a Hmong family, living in California, that has an epileptic child and their interactions at a children’s hospital. The book came back into my life when my second daughter started having seizures and we were admitted into the same children’s hospital where the book was researched.

One of the doctors knew I was an anthropologist and reminded me of the book. Despite the cultural difference between myself and the Hmong family, I could see myself in their fear, their hope, and their desire to make sense of having a very ill child.

I read this book as a fictional rendition of 'intersectionality' theory, i.e. the idea that Black women's lives are conditioned by different power dynamics operating at once. However, this idea is beautifully interwoven in real-life events and conversations that make the book's characters alive.

I simply loved each one of them and very much enjoyed the plot as a whole. With a simple and direct, but also poetic and captivating language, the author takes you through unforeseen turns in the experience and feelings of these characters, and unexpected connections with one another. 

On one of our first dates, my future husband gave me a book by Kazuo Ishiguro – it was love! Both with the future husband and the amazing author.

Ishiguro has a gift for cutting to the kernel of what it means to love, in a way that is beautiful and heartbreaking but in away that avoids being overly sentimental. When I first read A View of Pale Hills, a story centered on a woman reflecting on her time in Nagasaki before she moved to England, I was mesmerized.

I wanted to give the book to everyone I knew, it is a bit of mystery and I desperately wanted to talk about it! It is a touching, unsettling, and a powerful narrative about moving across cultures – the new possibilities that can provide and the complexities of the past.

The third book is possibly one of the shortest standalone books I have read, but also one of the most powerful.

Toni Morrison’s post-humous work Recitatif is the story of two poor girls, one white and one black, living in a shelter and their lives as adults. They share their past experiences, and unfortunately both witness a disturbing incident while wards of the state.

This book makes my list for best books about cross-cultural interactions because the reader doesn’t know which girl is black and which is white. It unsettles the reader and forces self-reflection, why am I trying to determine the race of these girls and what does that reflect about my own culture?

I’m always a fan of graphic novels that capture the mood of the book, rather than trying to make everything perfectly accurate to the original. Mariah Marsden’s adaptation of Anne of Green Gables perfectly captures the magic and beauty of one of my favorite childhood books.

I mentioned how much I enjoyed this adaptation to a friend who’s also a fan of L.M. Montgomery. However, my friend hated this adaptation (especially how Anne’s nose is drawn!) which I actually found very liberating as I considered adapting The Great Gatsby. I’d been concerned about how people who loved Gatsby would view my adaptation, but this made me realize that some people would love my book and some people wouldn’t—and that was okay!

Two cousins, Charlie and Carlito, write to each other about their lives. Charlie is in the United States and talks about riding the subway to school in the big city and playing basketball with friends. Carlito is in the country in Mexico and walks to school each day past the “burro” (donkey) and the “nopales” (cactus), and plays football with his friends. Some things seem different but in many ways their lives are alike.

The art is a simple style but really charming and colorful and has won an honor award for the illustrations. There are Spanish words peppered through the book and what I really like is that it shows the strong connection between the two countries. In many ways, the United States and Mexico are also cousins.

This book tells the story of Helen and Scott Nearing, who left the city in 1932 for a rural life in Vermont based on hard work, self-reliance, good health, and a small amount of cash. They later moved to Main, where they continued living on the land until the early 1980s.

I loved this book because it was a “how-to” guide to rural homesteading, and because the authors made their life seem so rewarding and worthwhile. It must have been, because Scott Nearing lived to the age of 100, and Helen to 91.

This is a work of non-fiction, and it’s my very favourite in the world. On one level it’s about a man who leaves the world behind and goes to live in the most remote corner he can find to live with a pet otter. But it’s about a whole lot more than that. Gavin Maxwell brings to life the sound of the birds and the crashing of the waves; you can smell the seashore beyond the door of the house and you can walk out onto the beach to see the beauty in every direction. It’s a love song to the natural world, that’s what it is. And if it doesn’t leave you moved, then you’re harder than stone.

Want to feel like a little kid again? This book, or any of the Brambly Hedge books by Jill Barklem, are the epitome of romanticizing your life!

I can remember reading the Brambly Hedge books as a child and falling in love with all of the beautiful scenes. These books present what so many people are craving right now, which is a cozy place to escape to.

As a child (and now) I loved the intricate interiors with historical details and the magical aspect of mice doing mundane tasks like baking or cleaning in little fluffy dresses. Now that I am older, I find that I really love reading these stories because they remind me to slow down and that it’s okay to stop for a moment to enjoy a cup of tea settled in by a warm fire.

This is a meta-fictional novel about the fragile state of memory and interpretation.

Stories can save us, and in the case of 13-year-old Briony Tallis, stories can ruin us. A single accusation is enough to destroy her sister, a young man’s life, and their future together. It shows us that the art of writing can be both sacred and profane.

It is a novel inhabited by ghosts, one that taught me the importance of absence in storytelling, of the silences and liminal spaces when writing about epic events. The style obfuscates the plot, then later renders it in vivid detail.

What lives between the lines is critical. It asks if forgiveness and acts of retribution can counter the death that eventually comes for all of us.