Books like Disappearing Acts — picked by fans

This was the first book I read when researching Argentina’s military dictatorship over twenty years ago. It was gifted to me by the head of the graduate program in international affairs at The New School. It explores the use of language in the context of the human rights atrocities that occurred during this dark period of Argentina’s history.

Marguerite Feitlowitz's marrying of investigative narrative with human storytelling makes the work accessible and richly informative.

In this book, Laura Alcoba recounts memories of her childhood from the tender perspective of a 7-year-old girl whose parents are being targeted by Argentina’s dictatorship. Laura and her family hide out in a small house on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, where a resistance movement is operating a secret printing press behind the façade of a rabbit farm.

Through snippets of conversations that she isn’t meant to understand (but does) and strict rules of secrecy intended to protect her, wonder and curiosity prevail. I loved seeing this hidden world through Laura’s eyes.

Alicia Partnoy was one of the estimated thirty thousand people captured during Argentina’s dictatorship. An Argentine poet, author, human rights activist, translator, and professor, she was torn from her home—and away from her baby daughter, who was left behind with relatives—in 1977.

This is a literary account of the subsequent months she spent in a clandestine prison in Bahia Blanca called La Escuelita, where she and other prisoners were subject to torture and abuse at the hands of the junta. Translated from Spanish, this is a survivor’s memoir. I loved the poetic and near-spiritual explorations of these harrowing experiences. Alicia has since been reunited with her daughter, providing invaluable inspiration and insight for my book.

This is one of my favorite books about the work of the Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo. In it, Arditti quickly summarizes the historical backdrop of the dictatorship (within fifty pages), then provides a touching, thorough, and informative account of the grandmothers’ work, often using their own words.

She showcases obstacles and milestones—from ‘The Catholic Church’ to ‘The Grandmother's Gift to Science’—in easily digestible sections, capturing decades of tenacious search efforts and the emotional result when found grandchildren are reunited with their biological families.

Inspired by Paolo Freire’s classic Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Brazilian dramatist and activist Augusto Boal makes active participants of audiences, staging oppressive interactions and then repeatedly re-staging them as “spect-actors” step up to intervene and remake the interaction. Anyone can join! A stunning synergy of empowering revolutionary theater and improvisational role-playing that has not even begun to be adapted to classrooms. You figure out why. Then figure out how to adapt and bring it on now.

Forget Shakespeare. Nicholas Bracewell and Lord Westfield’s Men are a far more intriguing introduction to Elizabethan theatre. I was there, watching the rehearsals, hearing the applause, and enjoying the play as murder was committed, literally, behind the scenes.

With a bit of alchemy, madness, and passion thrown into the mix, if you love the Elizabethan period this is a not-to-be-missed historical mystery as Nicholas pits his wits against the devil himself. 

This book is about a girl in a wheelchair who is cast in the middle school play. I love this book because it helps us understand the challenges of being in a wheelchair as well as all the challenges that go along with being a middle schooler. It addresses all those identity issues that occur during that age with the added challenge of being in a wheelchair.

The Other Side of Perfect is about a young ballet dancer, Alina, who suffers a life-changing injury and must learn to deal with her multilayered, sometimes unsympathetic, anger.

Even though its themes are heavy, I somehow couldn’t put this one down. The characters are so real (and often funny), and every conflict unfurls with realistic nuance, sometimes devastatingly so.

Mariko Turk’s refusal to simplify emotions—even when exploring painful topics like racism—earns this book a standing ovation from me.

This may seem a rather strange nomination as it is the catalogue for a remarkable exhibition, curated by Mary Hart at the J. Paul Getty Museum in 2010.

The main justification is that this was probably the greatest collection of illustrations of dramatic performances in the classical world ever displayed together, in pots, paintings, and artefacts. Though hardly a reliable guide to how Greek comedies and tragedies were originally staged, the various artworks are given contexts and explanations in accompanying commentaries.

Above all, what the book validates is the belief that the earliest Greek theatre emerged as a visual art form, never initially to be preserved in print. Today, we do have some 46 more or less complete playtexts, including a couple from New Comedy, which there is no space to champion here, but which also features strongly throughout the catalogue.

Thrilling portraits of violent women in Greek tragedy—for example, Clytemnestra, Electra, and Medea—seem like an anomaly in a society that expected women to get married, bear children, be quiet, and stay at home. In this accessible introduction to the subject Rabinowitz examines tragedy in its original theatrical and social contexts. Her analyses of selected plays are grounded in psychoanalytic and feminist theory, and include vivid accounts of some modern performances. Whatever is happening in the world, there is always a Greek tragedy that speaks to it.