100 Books Like Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982

Kang’s sentences are short and tidy and clearly well-translated into English from Korean, and I was immediately drawn into the novel through the almost staccato rhythms of the prose. A small warning: this story comes with ghosts.

The plot is a fictionalization of a horrific event in Korean history in which soldiers opened fire on thousands of students protesting the 1980 military coup, killing somewhere between 600 and 2,300 civilians. The story was actively suppressed by the Korean government—hence the uncertainty over numbers.

Using this as a backdrop, Kang personalizes the violence and political upheaval of Korea in the 1980s, giving us memorable characters and the anguished and marginalized voices of the dead. It’s a novel I can’t quite shake, even years after first reading it.

This novel is a murder mystery, of sorts, that also has a lot to say about socio-economic divides in contemporary Korea. This was particularly interesting to me because when I lived there in the 1970s, everyone was poor. No one owned a motorbike, much less a car, and they were all barely scraping by. Now, though, great wealth and privilege have emerged alongside persistent poverty, and that class divide looks too familiar to Americans. The rich are privileged and have access to things the poor do not, including justice.

This is a surreal novel that suggests a complexity to modern Korean life that I can’t say that I’ve witnessed. It’s a novel of patterns—repeated images and passages that may be indicative of what it’s like to live in Seoul at this point in time. The main character has lost her job—and an odd job it was—but she is now even more immersed in the world of artists and writers, which is another reason the book spoke to me. The book was something of a challenge, given its shifts and ghost-like characters, but that too made it more exciting.

This one is set in North Korea and is by a sanctioned North Korean writer. As a result, there is no criticism directed at the North’s restrictive society and on the surface it isn’t at all political. Instead, it shows the mundane existence of a judge and his wife, ordinary people who work hard to contribute to the development of the nation. It seems to be about traditional values, and the rising prevalence of divorce is seen as a problem. Those of us who follow Korea rarely get this kind of insight into what life in the North is really like, and while these characters may be relatively privileged, their existence is tellingly monochromatic.

Linwood Barclay is a fellow Canadian crime writer who imagines terrifying scenarios and takes stories through startling twists and turns of non-stop tension and suspense better than most.

Stephen King is a big fan of his writing in the style of horrifying domestic thrillers. In The Accident, we meet the humble hard-working neighbour with an eight-year-old daughter who discovers his wife killed in a car accident. The police claim she was the drunk driver who was responsible for it.

Garber has to believe the evidence but starts to explore what really happened and learns that his friends and neighbours are involved with dangerous criminals who are prepared to kill to protect their illegal activities. 

It's 1969, Phyllis is married to a kind man, with two children and a large house in suburban London. Her domestic world is not far removed from a dutiful 50s housewife’s. Then a much younger man, dashing, selfish, and a family friend, kisses her in a dark garden, and her life explodes. She abandons her family and moves to a shabby flat in Ladbroke Grove. A new world opens to her – she meets people of colour, artists, activists, drinkers, and idealists. She experiences sexual freedom and romantic love. Phyllis’s teenage daughter joins her in her new life, and mother and daughter must work out a different kind of relationship. I found myself feeling furious with Phyllis at the same time as emphasising with her.

I first came across this book when babysitting at a neighbor’s house as a young teen. I was a giant Judy Blume fangirl and I was confused. I thought I’d read all of her novels. When I picked this one up, I managed to find a “dirty part” quite quickly while flipping through it and I stole the book to show that passage to all my friends. Scandalous! When I was out of college, I actually read the whole book and found it a poignant, but still funny, look at dreams deferred, marriage, motherhood, and sex.

This book explores the themes of loss, grief, and fidelity to one’s marriage, even once that relationship is unraveling. The prose is precise, and the narrator’s inner life is seemingly transparent. At the same time, it’s a mystery: why did the narrator’s husband disappear while doing research for a book on mourning rituals in southern Greece? And why does she hide the secret of their marital separation—and her new life with a new man—from her mother-in-law, who insists she track down her son, Christopher?

The narrator seeks out her soon-to-be ex at her mother-in-law's command, only to discover a tragic event. The ties to a failing love and a distant family are strengthened and the reader’s expectations upended. I loved how Kitamura took existential issues and boiled them down into a deceptively quiet story.

Read it, bought it for all my friends, and read it again.

Glennon’s writing style is so disarmingly honest, raw, and powerful that it brought me to tears with its authenticity and relatability.

Full of personal stories about being a mother, being gay, leaving a marriage, recovering from addiction, unpacking religion, and being a sensitive human in a hard, messy world, Glennon weaves healing with radical permission in the most beautiful ways.

Poignant and timeless, this book was a sensation when it came out and still hits home with every turn of the page.

A favorite quote: “My emotions. My intuition. My imagination. My courage. Those are the keys to freedom. Those are who we are. Will we be brave enough to unlock ourselves? Will we be brave enough to set ourselves free? Will we finally step out of our cages and say to ourselves, to our people, and to… show more.

Who doesn’t love the brilliant and creative Elizabeth Gilbert?

While this book is not one of her most popular, as a closeted cultural anthropologist, I found it fascinating. I loved learning all about the history of marriage, largely because it helped me to question certain assumptions we have about marriage. Assumptions that I think get a lot of us into trouble! I enjoyed how much Elizabeth shared about her own marriage and its uncoupling as well.

Elizabeth is a truth teller, and her searing honesty helped me be more honest with myself as I was processing the loss of my own marriage.