Here are 100 books that Here We Are fans have personally recommended if you like
Here We Are.
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I came to the U.S. in my early twenties to pursue a PhD, trading the familiar for the unknown. I am a scientist, an immigrant, and a daughter whose life was irrevocably fractured when my mother passed away in India while I was navigating the demands of graduate school. Grappling with grief, identity, and belonging in a foreign land shaped me to my core. The books on this list, centered on themes of family, loss, and the search for home, resonated with my experiences in profound ways. They offered me hope and a vital sense of connection, and I hope they speak to you just as powerfully.
I loved What We Carry for the intricate, nuanced relationship between Maya and her mother.
The woman she thought she knew gradually revealed herself in unexpected ways, leaving Maya—and me—grappling with confusion, longing, and a sense of loss. Witnessing Maya come to terms with her mother’s complexities and her own understanding of what it means to be a mother was both heartbreaking and uplifting.
The book pulled me with its honesty and vulnerability and stayed with me long after the last page. I have re-read this book a couple of times.
“A gorgeous memoir about mothers, daughters, and the tenacity of the love that grows between what is said and what is left unspoken.”—Mira Jacob, author of Good Talk
If our family stories shape us, what happens when we learn those stories were never true? Who do we become when we shed our illusions about the past?
Maya Shanbhag Lang grew up idolizing her brilliant mother, an accomplished physician who immigrated to the United States from India and completed her residency all while raising her children and keeping a traditional Indian home. Maya’s mother had always been a source of support—until…
It is April 1st, 2038. Day 60 of China's blockade of the rebel island of Taiwan.
The US government has agreed to provide Taiwan with a weapons system so advanced that it can disrupt the balance of power in the region. But what pilot would be crazy enough to run…
I write, coach, and lead at the intersection of identity, healing, and leadership, especially for women navigating cultural complexity. As a South Asian woman raised in the U.S., I spent years unpacking inherited narratives about devotion, obedience, and silence. This list reflects books that helped me reclaim power, soften shame, and lead from a place of alignment rather than survival. Each title here offered me tools, language, or perspective that shaped not just how I show up in the world, but how I guide others to do the same.
I saw myself in this book in ways I didn’t expect.
Stephanie Foo’s story of complex trauma, the gaslighting she endured, and her drive to overachieve just to feel worthy hit close to home. Like her, I turned to spiritual practices seeking peace, and like her, I often felt alone in that process.
This book reminded me that my thoughts and feelings are not only valid, but worthy of compassion. The therapy sessions toward the end were especially powerful. I felt like her therapist was speaking directly to me, and something in me softened.
If you're breaking intergenerational patterns, this book offers deep healing, insight, and a sense of being profoundly understood.
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A searing memoir of reckoning and healing by acclaimed journalist Stephanie Foo, investigating the little-understood science behind complex PTSD and how it has shaped her life
“Achingly exquisite . . . providing real hope for those who long to heal.”—Lori Gottlieb, New York Times bestselling author of Maybe You Should Talk to Someone
ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: The Washington Post, Cosmopolitan, NPR, Mashable, She Reads, Publishers Weekly
By age thirty, Stephanie Foo was successful on paper: She had her dream job as an award-winning radio producer at This American Life and…
I write, coach, and lead at the intersection of identity, healing, and leadership, especially for women navigating cultural complexity. As a South Asian woman raised in the U.S., I spent years unpacking inherited narratives about devotion, obedience, and silence. This list reflects books that helped me reclaim power, soften shame, and lead from a place of alignment rather than survival. Each title here offered me tools, language, or perspective that shaped not just how I show up in the world, but how I guide others to do the same.
I was stunned by the similarities between the men in Gupta’s life and my own. This book laid bare the violence of the model minority myth and how it erases pain, demands silence, and turns belonging into a performance.
I saw so much of myself in her unraveling of that narrative. They Called Us Exceptional reminded me that telling the truth about our families isn't betrayal, it’s a form of generational care. Prachi writes with a kind of fierce compassion that made me feel seen, especially in the messiness.
If you've ever felt the pressure to be exceptional at the expense of being whole, this book is a balm, a reckoning, and a quiet act of rebellion.
“In this vulnerable and courageous memoir, Prachi Gupta takes the myth of the exceptional Indian American family to task. . . . [Her] resilience and her hope to be fully seen are an inspiration in both personal and political terms.”—The Washington Post
“I read it in one sitting. Wow. It aims right at the tender spot where racism, sexism, and family dynamics collide, and somehow manages to be both searingly honest and deeply compassionate.”—Celeste Ng, New York Times bestselling author of Little Fires Everywhere
A SHE READS BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR • ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE…
The Year Mrs. Cooper Got Out More
by
Meredith Marple,
The coastal tourist town of Great Wharf, Maine, boasts a crime rate so low you might suspect someone’s lying.
Nevertheless, jobless empty nester Mallory Cooper has become increasingly reclusive and fearful. Careful to keep the red wine handy and loath to leave the house, Mallory misses her happier self—and so…
I write, coach, and lead at the intersection of identity, healing, and leadership, especially for women navigating cultural complexity. As a South Asian woman raised in the U.S., I spent years unpacking inherited narratives about devotion, obedience, and silence. This list reflects books that helped me reclaim power, soften shame, and lead from a place of alignment rather than survival. Each title here offered me tools, language, or perspective that shaped not just how I show up in the world, but how I guide others to do the same.
Growing up, I absorbed mythology that glorified sacrifice and obedience in women. They were stories that shaped how I understood devotion, duty, and my own worth. This retelling gave Sita a voice that was both fierce and tender, and it helped me see that I can reimagine the stories I was raised on in a way that affirms my truth.
This book softened the part of me that had grown resistant to my culture after feeling betrayed by it. It reminded me that agency and reverence can coexist, and that rewriting inherited stories is a sacred act.
'One of the most strikingly lyrical voices writing about the lives of Indian women' -- Amitav Ghosh
'Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni turns the Ramayana around by telling it in the voice of Sita ... this inversion is a gift - it presents us a with a way to know an already well-known story better and to love an already beloved story more'
-- Arshia Sattar
'This inspired evocation of the goddess Sita is an epic song of strength and solidarity told with joy and intensity. It brings to life the personalities and predicaments of the Ramayana' -- Namita Gokhale
COVID killed my father early on during the pandemic. Every day, I blogged about him. First, when he was in the ICU and I was begging the universe to save him. Then, after he died, as I grieved in a world that seemed cold and lonely. I wrote about Dad, telling stories of happier times, to keep him alive through my memories and to share his life with others. Soon, friends started recommending books about grief. In reading, feeling, and absorbing the pain of others, I somehow felt less alone.
I loved this book because it was another daughter reminiscing about her relationship with her father following his death.
I could empathize with the emptiness Schultz felt in the midst of her father’s absence, but also feel the joy she experienced when remembering him. Also, I like reading books written by other lesbians, especially books about family.
In hard times, we rely on family to support us emotionally, and Schulz, through her relationship with her partner, demonstrated that beautifully.
'Extraordinary . . . a profound and beautiful book . . . a moving meditation on grief and loss, but also a sparky celebration of joy, wonder and the miracle of love . . . Witty, wise, beautifully structured and written in clear, singing prose' - Sunday Times
Longlisted for the 2022 National Book Award for Nonfiction
Eighteen months before Kathryn Schulz's beloved father died, she met the woman she would marry. In Lost & Found, she weaves the stories of those relationships into a brilliant exploration of how all our lives are shaped by loss and discovery - from…
COVID killed my father early on during the pandemic. Every day, I blogged about him. First, when he was in the ICU and I was begging the universe to save him. Then, after he died, as I grieved in a world that seemed cold and lonely. I wrote about Dad, telling stories of happier times, to keep him alive through my memories and to share his life with others. Soon, friends started recommending books about grief. In reading, feeling, and absorbing the pain of others, I somehow felt less alone.
Even though Adichie’s father did not die from COVID, it happened during the pandemic when the world shut down. To this, I could relate all too well.
I spent the pandemic, and months afterward, grieving my father’s death, and I found comfort reading the stories of other daughters whose dads have died.
A personal and powerful essay on loss from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the bestselling author of Americanah and Half of a Yellow Sun.
'Grief is a cruel kind of education. You learn how ungentle mourning can be, how full of anger. You learn how glib condolences can feel. You learn how much grief is about language, the failure of language and the grasping for language'
On 10 June 2020, the scholar James Nwoye Adichie died suddenly in Nigeria.
In this tender and powerful essay, expanded from the original New Yorker text, his daughter, a self-confessed daddy's girl, remembers her beloved father.…
Don’t mess with the hothead—or he might just mess with you. Slater Ibáñez is only interested in two kinds of guys: the ones he wants to punch, and the ones he sleeps with. Things get interesting when they start to overlap. A freelance investigator, Slater trolls the dark side of…
“Where do you get your story ideas?” I’m often asked. The answer is, “I’m cursed.” As in the Chinese curse: May you live in interesting times. I was a serial wife and a single mom. I’ve been both poor and rich. I’ve travelled to far-flung places around the world. I’ve done extraordinary things, like the time I rode with the New York City Mounted Police in researching my novel, Trail of Secrets. I write what I know, about life with all its ups and downs, beauty and ugliness, magic and mystery.
I come from a dysfunctional family. Perhaps that’s why I’m drawn, like a rubbernecker to the scene of an accident, to novels about dysfunctional families.
To quote Tolstoy: “Happy families are all alike. Unhappy families are different, each in their own way.” To call the family that inhabits the house in We All Live Here unhappy is putting it mildly. They’re more like survivors of a shipwreck adrift at sea in a lifeboat, hoping to be rescued before they die or kill each other.
This novel is funny, wickedly so at times, with a lot of heart. And like the patriarch of its fictional family, a failed actor with substance abuse issues and a habit of stretching the truth when it suits him, never dull.
The #1 New York Times bestselling author, whose books so many love, brings us a fresh, contemporary story of a woman and her unruly blended family
“Nobody writes women the way Jojo Moyes does.” —Jodi Picoult
Lila Kennedy has a lot on her plate. A broken marriage, two wayward daughters, a house that is falling apart, and an elderly stepfather who seems to have quietly moved in. Her career is in freefall and her love life is . . . complicated. So when her real dad—a man she has barely seen since he ran off to Hollywood thirty-five years ago—suddenly…
I grew up in a family of readers who valued humor above all else. I’ve always sought out novels that weren’t full of themselves or too serious. For example, I don’t actually like literature for the most part (sacrilege?) As a result, I’ve veered toward upmarket genre books that amuse me. My list reflects what I discovered as I explored this realm. It also led me to write mysteries and thrillers that are infused with my version of humor, which I must admit will never match the authors on my list. These guys are amazing.
Fforde takes literary characters and brings them to life in a mystery format. Inside jokes about them and well-constructed absurd situations kept me amused. I admire the creativity and imagination a book like this requires. The plot is also ingenious, with unexpected twists and turns.
I’d say I never read a book like it, but I’ve read others by him, and he continues to create fun novels with literary and fairy tale characters. I recommend all of them.
Meet Thursday Next, literary detective without equal, fear or boyfriend
Jasper Fforde's beloved New York Times bestselling novel introduces literary detective Thursday Next and her alternate reality of literature-obsessed England-from the author of The Constant Rabbit
Fans of Douglas Adams and P. G. Wodehouse will love visiting Jasper Fforde's Great Britain, circa 1985, when time travel is routine, cloning is a reality (dodos are the resurrected pet of choice), and literature is taken very, very seriously: it's a bibliophile's dream. England is a virtual police state where an aunt can get lost (literally) in a Wordsworth poem and forging Byronic…
As a reader and an author, I prefer young adult novels because they tend to focus more on character growth and development than other genres, but I’m particularly drawn to both historical and fantasy period pieces in books and film. The medieval ages especially, with their castles and feudalistic way of life, have always fascinated me. This fascination was largely filled by reading and watching fairy tales and novel adaptations while growing up. Nowadays, I gravitate toward retellings like a moth to the flame, as I get to relive stories that have a special place in my heart in a fresh new way.
This atmospheric novel, a retelling of The Island of Doctor Moreau, is a perfect blend of gothic romance and haunting mystery. It’s beautifully written, well-paced, and filled with unexpected twists. I love the feminist theme presented through the main character, Juliet, who is independent despite the hardships she endures, is not dissuaded from pursuing her passion for science even though it wasn’t proper for a woman to do so at the time. There is also an underlying theme throughout the book that expertly juxtaposes sanity and madness, eliciting the question of where the line should be drawn.
For fans of Libba Bray, this first book in a gothic suspense trilogy is inspired by H. G. Wells's The Island of Dr. Moreau and has been hailed by New York Times bestseller Carrie Ryan as having "beautiful writing, breakneck pacing, a pulse-pounding mystery, and an irresistible romance."
Following accusations that her scientist father gruesomely experimented on animals, sixteen-year-old Juliet watched as her family and her genteel life in London crumbled around her—and only recently has she managed to piece her world back together. But when Juliet learns her father is still alive and working on a remote tropical island,…
I was born into the heart of American religious fundamentalism and spent years helping build the Religious Right before walking away from it. My book tells the story of that journey: from certainty to doubt, from dogma to paradox, from fear to love.
I’ve lived at the crossroads of faith, politics, family, and art—and these recommendations reflect the questions that still haunt me: How do we live with compassion in a divided world? How do we raise our children with tenderness in the absence of certainty? These books moved me because they don’t preach. They search. They speak in the voice of those of us who are done with black-and-white thinking, but still believe in grace.
Melanie’s memoir is a testament to how love and grief can live side by side.
Her story of grappling with faith, family, and loss resonated deeply with me, and her prose is simply luminous—elegant, honest, and profoundly moving. Like my own path, Melanie’s journey is about making peace with life’s messiness—finding the courage to create beauty in the ruins and hold fast to love, even when faith itself is in doubt.
I came away reminded that doubt is not the opposite of faith, but the companion that keeps it real and tender.
"A profound and riveting journey through shame and grief, A Hard Silence is, quite simply, unforgettable." Monica Wood, author of When We Were the Kennedys
In the mid 1980s, Canada's worst public health disaster was unfolding. Catastrophic mismanagement of the country's blood supply allowed contaminated blood to be knowingly distributed nationwide, infecting close to two thousand Canadians with HIV. Among them was Melanie Brooks's surgeon father who, after receiving a blood transfusion during open-heart surgery in 1985, learned he was HIV positive.
At a time when HIV/AIDS was widely misunderstood and public perception was shaped by fear, prejudice, and homophobia,…
