100 Books like Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume I

This is the best book out there about the ups and downs, the value and the degradation, the profundity and the shallow pettiness of universities. 

It is also an achingly profound commentary on the disappointment of life, when beauty and fulfilment are always just out of reach. 

Stoner reminds me that the vast archive of books out there is always growing, and there’ll never be enough time to read the best of what’s already been written, never mind try to grapple with a steady stream of new classics. Even so, I know I’ll read this book again and again.

Having worked in several archives, I know they are magical places, full of treasures that must be protected and cared for with a delicate touch and a responsibility to both past and future. Although people often think of archives as official institutions housing government records, artefacts can be personal documents, films, or objects, capturing tiny moments that make up grand histories. 

This book interweaves the poetry and factual background of T.S. Eliot with the life of the fictional archivist who protects his collections. Both men struggle with difficult marriages, and the fact that their wives are institutionalised due to mental health issues.

It’s a story about the importance of remembering and understanding the past. It’s also a book about why certain writers create archives around their work, and how these documents help us understand their creativity. 

A stunning collection of images of actors captured across a generation in the elusive space of “the half” – the thirty minutes of intensity just before the curtain is raised. 

It’s a window into the private space of the actor as they prepare to share their craft with the audience. It also demonstrates how an archive of photographs, captured over several decades, can take on new meaning when represented as a full collection.

For me, the most striking image is one of Natasha Richardson, arms outstretched, in a partially transparent flowing gown as she prepares to appear in The Seagull by Anton Chekov. She is ghostly and ethereal in this breathtaking black-and-white portrait from 1985. Her sister Joely adorns the opposite page, taking to Old Vic in the same year.

Neither of them know the fate that awaits.

A book about how the microhistories found in personal archives are essential to our understanding of how people respond to the world around them, how they form and document their own identities, and how, sometimes, a true understanding of a life may come only through sifting through the ephemera of a person after their death.

But do we have the right to look? The author asks us to think of how we view the dead and whether the rights they held during life should still be attributed to them when they no longer inhabit this world.

A book full of the ideas of other writers and cultural theorists that moves deftly between memoir, history, and poetry.

Elisabeth Elliot considered Katherine Mansfield not only a literary role model, but a person with whom she had so much in common that reading Mansfield’s letters helped explain Elliot herself.

Thus, this moving collection of letters between Mansfield and her husband sheds important light on how Elliot saw herself, reflecting her challenges in her relationship with her parents, her deep connection with her brother Tom, her passionate love for her husband, her strong and deeply private emotions, her determination to face her own mortality, and her dedication to excellence in her work.  

I read this book during a very intense summer a few years ago when I was trying to figure out if Christianity could possibly be true, and how a nerdy secular academic like myself could even begin to ask that question.

I found a kindred spirit in Sheldon Vanauken. In this memoir set mainly in the 1950s, he tells the story of how he took a sabbatical from his teaching job at a little college in Virginia to go to Oxford with his wife. Neither of them was religious at the time. In fact, the first part of the book is a very intense (some might say: cloyingly sentimental) account of their romance, when they basically worshipped each other instead of a deity.

If you’re like me, you’ll want to shout “get a room already” and throw the book at the wall during the first few chapters. But I’m glad… show more.

When I was working on the fundraising campaign to raise money for the statue of Virginia Woolf for Richmond, I was constantly being quoted the line, “I’d rather die than live in Richmond.” This line, uttered by Nicole Kidman as Woolf in The Hours, was completely made up by the screenwriter. 

Woolf’s decade (1914–1924) in Richmond was actually one of her most prolific. She launched the Hogarth Press, wrote major works, and hosted literary gatherings whilst also navigating the upheaval of World War I. This book, drawing from her letters and diaries, paints a richer picture of her time in Richmond. I think this bio-pic would challenge the Bloomsbury-dominated narrative and put pay to that rogue quote.

How did Lucretia Mott—the courageous Quaker who was active in so many good causes—find the time to write so many long, intimate letters? I like to dip into this collection; there’s always something of historical or simply human interest.

And given Mott’s small handwriting and her thrifty but maddening habit of “crossing”—saving paper by turning a letter sideways and writing across the existing handwriting on the page—I’m eternally grateful that someone else did the transcription of these letters so we don’t have to struggle with the originals.

I first read this book as an angsty artist in college. It was as if the Universe sent me a gift that I needed precisely when I needed it. Rilke–an older/wiser poet, wrote the 10 letters in the book to a young Franz Kappus–a budding/insecure poet. All artists suffer from insecurity, and Kappus wants to know if his poems are good and what he should do.

We all want to do Important and Good work (with capital I’s and G’s). Rilke gently and masterfully steers Kappus to understand that true art is a process and involves every aspect of an artist’s life, that it is often a lonely endeavor but worth it for so many reasons. I felt as if Rilke was speaking to me–as a loving grandfather–with words of encouragement, but also in truth. Nothing was sugar-coated, but I so related and wanted to be the wise creator that… show more.

I love this book because it captures the magic of bookstores. Told through a series of letters, the book made me want to hop on a plane (and time machine) and travel to what seems to be one of the most charming bookstores, full of charming booksellers. It’s the people, after all, that make a great bookstore great.