Books like Juggling Truths — picked by fans

My home village of Serowe is a place I find fascinating for its history, its culture, its people and their peculiar mix of self-regard and obeisance. Bessie Head, a writer who has had the most influence on my work, was a great chronicler of Serowe throughout her oeuvre of brilliant novels and short stories. But it is this book, a mix of social and oral history, and interviews with the inhabitants of Serowe (of different races, cultures, and classes), that really has my heart.

Covering various historical eras and years spanning from 1875 to around 1963, the book’s subjects ran the gamut from the reign of Khama the Great to the origins of the green milking rubber hedge that is still ubiquitous in the village today. 

I love a classic tale of forbidden love, and this book explores love across class lines and across traditional Tswana values and modern values: a poor, uneducated boy who fled his family cattlepost and escaped to Gaborone, where he falls in love with the privately educated daughter of a retired diplomat.

What I love about this book, too, is how it provides a portrait of Gaborone at a certain time (the book was published in 1981) and the various people who made the city their home—upwardly mobile Batswana, political refugees from both Botswana and South Africa, diamond smugglers, officers from the colonial government and as the rural wide-eyed boy observes, “men wearing women’s attire and vice-versa…unbelievably high heels on both men and women.” 

I love short stories for all the meaning, depth, substance, and sense of a full life they can reveal in a few short pages, and these short stories by Wame Molefhe do just that.

They are intimate and lovely, and in elegant prose, they reveal women in the thick of life, caught in treacherous circumstances, solitarily mourning extramarital lovers, mourning same-sex love they were not brave enough to pursue, mourning a best friend who might have had an affair with one’s husband thus exposing her to disease.

The characters' names recur in most of the stories, though each character is different, navigating a different set of circumstances. The effect is of intimacy, of encountering and re-encountering relatives or friends around the corner, at the supermarket, at a funeral, or a wedding. 

“In Africa, you want more, I think.” So goes the first line of this sprawling and complex novel by the American writer Norman Rush. The version of me who has had to read countless broad and sweeping generalisations about my country and my continent was alert upon first reading this line. Suspicious and vigilant; ready to slam the book closed at any nefarious stereotypes. But I confess that the narrator’s voice—the funny, wry, intellectual and calculating voice of an American anthropology student obsessed with a celebrated American anthropologist attempting to build a utopian matriarchal society in the Kgalagadi desert—swept my defenses aside. 

The book is expansive and comic, and also serious about relationships between men and women, courtship, love, social movements and Southern African politics. A sequence early in the book in which the narrator is reduced to weeping at the beauty of the Victoria Falls and lamenting her lack… show more.

I love this classic novel; it is one of my old favorites.

Nowhere in the genre of young adult literature does there seem to be an author more subversive than Paula Danziger; here (and in the companion novel The Cat Ate My Gymsuit), she directly encourages the young reader to question adult authority and suggests that with protests and education about what rights the law gives (and withholds from) young people, it might be possible to effect change and increase their rights.

I also found it great that the novel shows the protagonist’s parents in raw realism–the father as a hypocritical, cheap, unlikable domestic despot, the mother as a shrinking violet who at first tends to excuse the father and conform to his expectations, but eventually starts questioning her stance when she sees her daughters rebel.

I read this whole series as a teenager, and I remember loving it but not following it very well–the story is spread over seven books, each flowing logically and naturally into the next. It was a little too big and complex for me at the time. I’ve started rereading them as an adult, and they are phenomenal.

The four-elements theme of world-building seemed very simple at first, even a little gimmicky, but as I got into it and discovered how the worlds were interconnected, it all fell into place for me: worlds meant to be elegantly interdependent are instead standing–and faltering–alone. I like how the worlds are populated by real people leading real lives, bringing the whole big picture to a more relatable level.

In 2000, there were few English-language fantasy books based on Japanese myths. I opened this one, and instantly, Heian Period Feudal Japan came alive in a lyrical, mesmerizing way, unlike the dry history books.

And unlike the fantasy I’d grown up with, the main voice of the book was a woman—a complicated, imperfect magical kitsune who also felt like a human woman. This book made me hungrier for more non-Western myths as a lens through which to view my own concepts of womanhood.

I like this novel because it is one of the few that I know of that features a blind musician like the protagonist of my novel. Also, I feel that the author offers fine descriptions of jazz piano and jazz music. This book was published in 1965, a turbulent time in America. The author depicts being black as a disability like blindness. I think William Melvin Kelley was an excellent novelist who deserves greater recognition.

I felt every single emotion reading this book and felt as if I’d lived all the decades with Jen and Nick, who met as teenagers and soon became friends.

I love Sarra’s writing style, and I was fully invested in Jen and Nick from the very beginning, and found their complicated, messy relationship, which follows the most winding path, completely believable.

There was so much in this book that was unexpected, and by the end, I was a sobbing puddle of feelings. I know Jen and Nick will always stay with me, and I’m already looking forward to reading it again. 

This is not a how-to book. It’s a series of essays written by a really smart and funny guy about something at which he excels: writing fiction.

He offers great advice, often with his tongue planted firmly in cheek. His essay on rewriting is titled Washing Garbage. His essay on getting to the finish line is titled Do It Anyway. His great advice: “Give yourself permission to write badly.” I like to have it on my bedside table for leavening those moments when I take myself too seriously.