Books like Home Again

House arrest in a hotel, and a man raises a daughter in it.

The Count can give Sofia nothing—no country, no freedom, no future he can guarantee—so he gives her manners, music, attention, and wit, and most of all love. It turns out those are not nothing. They're the inheritance.

I love it for the opposite reason I love McCarthy: same question, no apocalypse, just a man with four walls deciding what to pass on. If you're a parent who feels you have less to give your kids than you'd hoped, this one's a gift.

Many an idealistic young law student like me felt that jolt in our spine early on when we saw up in the balcony of that courthouse a sleepy Scout being told, “Stand up, Jean Louise. Your father’s passin’.”

The movie is as faithful to the novel as the medium would allow. The novel is told entirely from Scout’s POV and not only focuses upon the racism of the time and place, but also upon her coming of age as a tomboy and being told to act “As a little girl should.”

The book offers more to those of us for whom the rule of law and not of men is a passion, especially in Finch’s closing: “There is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of Rockefeller, a stupid man the equal of Einstein… That institution, gentlemen, is a court.” 

This book has shaped the way I look at consensus.

Like Holden standing slightly outside Pencey and watching the people around him without quite belonging, I have often felt most comfortable observing from the edge. In many ways, that distance is part of what made me a writer.

I also love the intimacy of Holden's voice, the sense that he is speaking directly to someone he trusts. I try to keep readers close in my own writing too, even without addressing them directly.

His wandering through Manhattan speaks to the flâneur in me, and I return to the humor, the sensitivity to detail, and the humanity of the book. Even when Holden is haunted by the past, he keeps choosing the present.

Each time I read this American classic, it changes in meaning and relevance.

Told from Francie’s point of view, it’s a family’s coming-of-age story about overcoming personal and societal choices in order to persevere and grow, just like the tree in the title. Smith is one of the first authors to write about the real, human struggles of working-class Americans at the start of the 20th century.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is not a light, whimsical read but it’s one that sticks with me. I relate to Francie, a vulnerable, observant young woman who uses her writing as a way to process, explore, and eventually propel her into a different life, away from the trauma and poverty of her beloved Brooklyn.

This book is one that everyone needs to read and that I find myself going back to again and again.

The storyline in this book was so realistic, I searched the world wide web multiple times to see if Daisy Jones & The Six was a real band.

And get this, the entire book is formatted as interviews! Band members, their managers, and some groupies—they all get their chance to tell their side of this fascinating, juicy, and oh, so emotional story.

When I was a young, newly married woman, one of the more mature members in my book club presented this book to the group in 1992. To Dance with the White Dog is a story about the unfathomable bonds of marriage and the crushing grief of losing a spouse. Even better? It involves a dog 😊

Sam Peek’s adult children think he’s losing his mind or perhaps imagining the “white dog” to cope with the loss of his beloved wife, Cora. Even though I wept through most of this book, it remains one of my all-time favorites thirty years later. While the novel pushes us to consider serious matters such as death, aging, and grief, it also fills us with hope and gratitude.

Even though it breaks my heart, I reread it often. Because it is that beautiful, and because Terry Kay is that good. 

As the parent and sister of a person with disabilities, I look for authors who can handle this topic in a sensitive and loving way.

Ms. Brown does an amazing job as she weaves suspense into this depression era story. I fell in love with the characters, and this book encouraged me to keep looking for ways to include these special people into my own stories.

Pat Conroy was a master at conjuring characters and writing stories chock-full of emotion. Heck, even the way he describes his beloved state of South Carolina makes it seem like one of the characters in his novels. (Truth: I made my family go to South Carolina one summer after binge-reading Pat Conroy’s books.)

If forced to choose which of his novels is my favorite, I’d have to go with South Broad. With a lead character named Leopold Bloom, you just know it’s going to be good 😊 As Leopold’s life is defined by unimaginable tragedy, he is drawn to a group of outsiders in school. This unlikely band of friends experiences two decades of poignant, life-changing moments together.

Love, loss, and grief are prevalent in this novel, but there is also total hilarity as the bonds of friendship overcome disappointment and heartbreak.  

If you like your scary stories mixed with a dash of science fiction, Stephen King’s The Tommyknockers is highly recommended. Set in fictional Haven, ME, the book revolves around the discovery of a spaceship buried in the woods. As Bobbi Anderson, a local writer, uncovers the ship, both she and the rest of the townspeople are physically and mentally transformed by it. Not all of the changes are welcome – Bobbi loses interest in food and starts losing hair and teeth, but in turn becomes part of a shared consciousness that makes her capable of the most amazing inventions, including a telepathic typewriter. Only Jim Gardner is immune due to a steel plate in his head, and it is up to him to stop the hypnotic spell of The Tommyknockers.

Janice P. Nimura digs deep into the diaries and letters of the Blackwell sisters, who were among the very first women in America to be trained as doctors. The book reads like a novel without sacrificing historical accuracy and scholarly rigor. I found myself deeply moved by the sisters’ struggles to be taken seriously as physicians in an entirely male world. Jeered in lecture halls and treated as curiosities off-campus, they maintained a dignified courage and a relentless work ethic. Eventually, they shamed their skeptics and opened the doors for future generations of women doctors. This is a compelling tale told well.