100 Books Like Courting Mr. Lincoln

I thought it was great to have Circe herself narrate her love affair with Odysseus.

The first half of the novel interestingly shares her tribulations growing up as a child in a family of gods. I found that this establishes a theme of immortality vs. mortality that the book explores in profound ways. Especially fascinating was Circe’s personal story of her love affair with Odysseus.

I was surprised and delighted that Miller included the resulting child, Telegonus, who is not in Homer but is in ancient myth. Even more surprising to me was Circe falling in love with Telemachus, Odysseus’ son by Penelope (also not in Homer!). This relationship allows the novel to end on a positive note as Circe learns to live like a mortal in her new life with Telemachus.

I first read this book to my daughter when she was seven years old, and we’ve read it together multiple times since. I love Gaiman’s take on these two mashed-up classic fairy tales—not only does he allow a normally passive princess to be the hero and choose her own future, he completely subverts reader expectations about the outward appearance of good and evil. This was the first time my daughter had been confronted by this kind of subversion in a book, and it blew her mind in the best possible way.

Napoli is a master at rewriting fairy tales and other classic stories, and Zel might just be my favorite of her works. A young adult retelling of Rapunzel from three perspectives, it sticks to the original tale’s basic plot points but deeply expands the reader’s understanding of each character, particularly Rapunzel’s mother, whose feelings and motivations are written with exquisite nuance. Though it’s written for a YA audience, I still enjoy this story as much now as I did when I first read it at age 13, and now that I’m a mother myself, I experience it on an entirely different level. This is a deceptively simple book that really has layers upon layers to unwrap. 

Before reading Deerskin, I wouldn’t have believed any author could get away with writing a retelling of the "Donkeyskin"/"All Kinds of Fur" tale—and yet, Robin McKinley does a superb job.

McKinley keeps readers at a bit of a remove from this triggering tale (the one in which a lecherous king wants to marry his daughter), giving it a bit of a darkly dreamlike, dissociative quality. I love the way she focuses on the heroine’s healing rather than the trauma or its perpetrator.

It’s the tale of a long, dark teatime of the soul, and a quiet, very spiritual book. 

May I suggest historical fiction fans of the English Tudors try the French royalty for a change? For me, Tudor intrigue pales in comparison to France’s 16th-century queen and regent, Catherine de Medici. This lush, biographical novel from C.W. Gortner follows Catherine from traumatic childhood to poignant death, revealing the necessity behind her ruthlessness. Since the era’s religious conflicts echo today’s cultural divides, the history feels surprisingly fresh. I can’t help thinking that this strong woman who stopped at nothing to protect France, her children, and her power would be more admired if she had been a man. 

I loved how the author tells the story of three women—Adrienne Lafayette, who was as important as her more famous husband, the Marquis Lafayette; Beatrice Chanler (WW I), and Marthe Simone (of the French Resistance)—connected by a castle, Chateau Chavaniac or Chateau Lafayette in France.

Women stand up for what is right, nurturing and saving children’s lives. It’s a clear but complex story. While the research behind this novel is impressive, I loved being drawn into the world of these three women and their collaborators. Powerful all! This is a compelling read, and you may lose sleep finding out what happens next.

The Chateau is now a museum.

I wrote my book because I love historical fiction that explores the person behind the myth. In that genre, Becoming Madame Mao is a tour de force. It’s no beach read, but who expects the Communist Revolution to be easy? Personally, I’ll never forget this portrait of Madame Mao—a poor girl who claws to the top, discarding lovers and husbands, performing opera, promoting and denouncing communism, and holding life-long grudges. Frankly, I’ve seldom felt so shocked, riveted, and immersed in a person, culture, and history. Her rocky, passionate relationship with Chairman Mao and the power she wields staggered me. While it’s not for the faint of heart, I highly recommend this best-in-genre book, especially to those who admire The Sympathizer, by Viet Thanh Nguyen.

This memoir reads like historical fiction and influenced my perspective on Napoleon. As its title proclaims, it’s not so much about the writer, Betsy Balcombe, but about Napoleon himself. Upon arrival on St. Helena, the British billeted the exiled, depressed emperor on her father’s estate. Fourteen-year-old Betsy, who spoke French, treated him like a favorite uncle, teasing and playing tricks on him. Unlike other contemporaneous memoirs I’ve read, Betsy’s doesn’t demonize or glorify Napoleon. Rather, her recollections provide the most extensive, reliable account of the real Napoleon, a lonely human hiding behind the vestiges of power. Look for the version with the excellent introduction by J. David Markham who puts the history in context.

Mary Todd Lincoln has been seriously misunderstood by most observers (including her most recent biographer). She was in fact a smart, lively, well-educated woman whom Lincoln loved and to whom he was emotionally drawn. Her troubled personality led to some distance between her and her husband in the 1850s, and her post-assassination despair grew in large part from the unrelenting criticism she endured. This definitive collection of her letters, interspersed with excellent biographical information, contextualizes the documents in a highly readable volume. Mary Todd Lincoln deserves our close and sympathetic attention.

While Mary Lincoln (although we often call her "Mary Todd Lincoln," she preferred "Mary Lincoln," "Mrs. Abraham Lincoln," or the unassuming "Mrs. A. Lincoln") has been the subject of several biographies, this is my favorite, and one which I always used as my first resource when checking a fact or looking for a reference about Mary Lincoln. It's readable, well-sourced, and sympathetic toward its subject without veering into hagiography or being overly indulgent of Mary's foibles.