100 Books Like Costalegre

I was once in line to get a book signed by Elizabeth Strout, and the minute I opened my mouth to greet her, I burst into tears. That’s how much I loved this book.

I loved Amy, the mother, and how hard she was trying to parent her teenage daughter, Isabelle. And Isabelle, who is trying to figure out her place in the world ends up having an affair with her teacher. But what I love the most is how much I felt bad for both Isabelle, who is trying to sort out her feelings for her teacher and herself, and Amy, who is furious at her daughter, the teacher, and herself.

Strout is so good at these kinds of perfectly imperfect relationships, these people who love and hurt each other. I read this book at least a decade ago and I still feel the sadness and tenderness of it… show more.

Talk about a complicated mother-daughter relationship! Almost as soon as her daughter is born, Blythe suspects something is…off. And no kidding, is it ever? This book takes the idea of not being able to connect with your kid to a whole other, really terrifying level.

What I particularly love about this book is how much it challenges the idea of who is in charge in the mother-daughter relationship, and what it means if your kid is really, truly, bad. This book actually made me gasp. The title refers to the central incident of the book, but I like it because the book also pushes against all kinds of societal norms. 

Weike Wang is kind of a master at dry, unadorned, razor-sharp writing. This book made me both cry and laugh. Joan is doing perfectly fine—great, even—if anyone asks her. Her life is efficient and successful and—empty.

When her father dies, her mother returns from China, and their subsequent interactions force Joan to stop just going through the motions and actually take a look at her life. This book is sweet but not saccharine, and its humor comes from Joan’s quirky observations which felt very relatable to me. 

I find it so difficult to pull off a child narrator that I can’t help but love a book that does it successfully. Asta, the narrator and heroine of this book, is only seven, but because her mother is too mentally unstable to take care of her or her brother, Asta is believably wise beyond her years.

This book goes to really dark places, but it’s still hopeful. I love this take on how to love a (very) imperfect parent while also saving yourself and being just a kid.

Actually a collection of nine novellas set in the fictional town of Babbington, in an alternative-reality version of 1950s New York, this collection is historical fiction at its funniest and strangest, satirizing not only 1950s American culture but also our literary traditions.

Each novella chronicles a coming-of-age adventure of Peter Leroy (the author’s alter ego) in the style of a different classic-fiction genre, from a Huck Finn-style river journey to a Proustian moment at a family outing to a send-up of Aesop’s fables.

Wonderfully warm and filled with sly asides.

In this book, a young Hasidic Jew and artist faces the conflict between his orthodoxy and his desire to explore what lies outside his orthodoxy, such as the Crucifixion of Jesus Christ. He is pulled in two directions—by his parents' idea of his identity and by searching for the truth about the human condition through his art.

I read this many years ago, in my 30s, and was heartbroken by how the main character has so much integrity to keep searching and finding in spite of so many forces trying to label him and forbid him from certain explorations. I, too, was searching for my place in those years of creating a career, and it deepened the authenticity of my search. 

This was one of my favorite books as a child and probably one reason I became an anthropologist of mining.

Though I wouldn’t have put it this way at the time, I found it fascinating that in a place where everything is doing the same job, especially a highly dangerous and damaging job, other aspects of culture coalesce around that job and its meanings—things like religion, kinship, gender, leisure, ecology, etcetera. I was deeply moved by the description of the vast slag heap that slowly came to tower over the town, eventually engulfing the narrator’s small house. 

This book, about a young recluse losing grip on reality, unable to discern truth from her own memory, had me hooked. I found the writing vicious and fierce, the imagery haunting, and the overall focus on memory and trauma as horrors that can both shape and betray us distressing in the very best of ways. Memory and one’s sense of self are important to my own work, and as such, this book managed to tap into some personal unease.

That it’s also so sharply written (and wonderfully f*cked-up) is the icing on an already delicious narrative cake. Recommended for those who like their horror to mess with their sense of reality—personal and not. My favorite read of 2023.

This is a great book without a great title. It refers to Spinoza’s Ethics and speaks to the strength of emotions.

Philip Carey has it rough from the outset: he’s disabled, he’s an orphan, and the story traces his travails—bullying, neglect, career misfires, and romantic and other calamities—along with his triumphs. These include some of my very favorite topics (beauty and belonging) along with the questions of adolescence that never leave us.

You could never get away with a book like this now—a 600-page chronological coming-of-age with one POV and narrator, swelling with social commentary and philosophical musings? But it’s a classic for a reason, and it saved my life during the pandemic (I listened, whereas I usually read).

It’s an inspiration and a great ride if you can slow down and savor.

A girl is haunted by events that shaped her destiny early on. A father who vanished without a trace. A mother who took her own life along with those of her other children by leaping from the roof of a building. There is a witness and a survivor, and this beautiful novel is the latter's story, as well as an examination of race. She is her father's Black and her mother's White daughter. Her racial identity therefore is both and neither, dependent on how one sees her, or how she chooses to see herself on any given day. Exploration of racial as well as family dynamics are themes that I am strongly drawn to read as well as write about. Durrow blends the two masterfully.