100 Books Like Encounterism

Jon Ronson has also written a highly entertaining book about extremism called Them, but I chose this one because it could just as well be called Us. Public shaming on the Internet is almost a sport at this point, but Ronson shows how, after the mob moves on, the target of the virtual stoning has to figure out how to put themselves back together and carry on.

A funny, readable romp, this book also asks the reader to think deeply about how morality plays out online and what we are saying when we use degradation and dehumanization as a way of communicating moral ideas.

This book is in a similar vein as Oona finds herself time jumping within her own life, suddenly living it out of sequence as she jumps to a different period in time with each birthday, forcing her to look within and realize what is important and worth holding on to and worth fighting for. I am a sucker for books where characters get the opportunity to experience alternate versions of their personal realities, and I could not put this one down. I’m all about my characters understanding that the choices they make create their ultimate realities. The ultimate messages about the importance of love and family and the choices we make really resonated with me.

At last, a book about a kid whose anger is just as big as the anger of many kids I know, and whose transition into parent-requested foster care isn’t easy—but gets easier. Jason and his family are in trouble, and this straightforward novel opens a door that readers don’t often walk through, unless we’re opening that door in real life. This novel reflects real-life situations in a direct and caring story about what happens next. 

Trans sci-fi? Yes, please. This delightful collection of short stories—which I have read twice now—consistently wows with its relatable queer and trans body-suffering, body-shifting protagonists. It is not so much a book about queer futures as it is a futurist rendering of the past twenty years, including climate disaster, endless wars, gentrification, digital subcultures, and a bit of high school nostalgia. A trans gay boy enters a portal in the woods; a young menstruating person pulls a screwdriver from their vagina; job opportunities on the moon entice anti-capitalist, ennui-filled teenagers. If Muñoz imagined queerness as a utopian space-time rupture, Jarboe reminds us that our queer dystopia is inescapably here. We wrestle now in our flesh in this fucked-up world. 

Leavitt’s story is a fairytale and like all good fairytales, there is a handsome prince except this one is played by Lord Death himself.

I love Keturah. She is brave enough not to be afraid and big-hearted enough to see beyond Death’s terrifying purpose to the underlying sadness of the feared and hated outsider. Through the course of the book, she also comes to appreciate the meaning he brings to life.

“It was Death who…made her see the sun in the blue sky and hear the trees in a spring wind. He made her see how much she loved her friends…Made her love the breath in her lungs. She knew she had never been truly alive as when she met him. Never so happy and content with her lot until she was touched by the sorrow of him.”

As a budding professional I was told not to be so kind to others, so I wasn’t taken advantage of.

Changing who I was and wanted to be didn’t seem like the right recipe for my success. Grant’s debut book has likely had the most impact on how I show up in my career and in life – that being a giver can be the key to our success and fulfillment. A must read for anyone who wants to do well while doing good.

My long-time favorite writer, John Green, is another Swiftie! In 2014, after he posted on social media about her 1989 album, Taylor Swift took to Tumblr to proclaim that John Green was (also) her favorite author. While John is most well-known for The Fault in Our Stars (or more recently, his TikTok), Looking for Alaska, his debut, is always my recommendation. Looking For Alaska is packed with teenage nostalgia that hits you like a gut punch. "Sad, Beautiful, Tragic" for bookworms. I read it early on in high school and it sparked a literary awakening within me. I realized that books can hold deeper, philosophical meaning; that by diving deep and soaking it all in, I could learn more about myself and this crazy thing we call reality. 

In her stunning poetry collection, Brute, Emily Skaja navigates the dark corridors of trauma at the end of an abusive relationship. Exploring the intersections of both love and violence, these poems have a mythic quality to them, with the narrator seemingly struggling to survive the brutality of a fairy tale world longing to gobble her up. At the same time, the fantastical elements of these poems are balanced by the present moment, with cell phones, social media, and other current technologies evoking a kind of modern magic that holds sway over our lives. The poems in this collection take the reader on a journey from sorrow to rage, guilt, hope, self-discovery, and reinvention.

This is my curveball selection because it’s fiction. It’s a dystopian book about our disconnection from our sense of touch, and it so well highlights our fears about technology cutting us off from true experiences. It tells the story of Sloan, who works at a company whose consumers prefer virtual relationships and whose partner believes in something called “post-sexual sex.” 

But she slowly realizes that people, including herself, are feeling deprived, and she goes on a journey to fight for connection. If I had a criticism of this book as fiction only, I’d say it feels very obviously topical in a way that sometimes detracts from the narrative. But as a treatise on the value of touch, it delivers entirely.

Though you couldn’t pay me one million dollars to wear giant shoulder pads again, I’m taking you there with this one because it’s all about eighties fashion with The Carrie Dairies. And who can resist, because those high-waisted acid-wash jeans seem to have come back full circle to haunt us.  

This book was a bit removed from my usual picks, but I couldn’t resist with all the hype about The Carrie Diaries TV show. It’s a Sex and the City flashback to Carrie Bradshaw’s 1980’s senior year. And like the wildly popular, decade-defining television show, this book series has everything for your guilty pleasures. Really, it’s a super-fun easy read and serves to answer those nagging questions we all had about Carrie’s past when SATC was at its height. But proceed with caution. You may find yourself slapping on some blue eyeliner and iridescent lip stick.