100 Books Like Light Years

Some years ago, my father fell ill and I barely made it to his bedside in time to say goodbye.

Written after her husband’s sudden death, Didion’s book has not only helped me come to terms with losing my father, but has also shed light on our all-too-human response to endings. Didion is committed to analysis yet acknowledges our irrationality in the face of loss—like when she keeps her husband’s shoes, believing he’ll need them if he returns.

I can relate to this: when my father died, I kept one of his favorite shirts and his birding binoculars, thinking he might want them later. Didion doesn’t offer closure, just a portrait of the grieving mind and heart that I find consoling and, in the end, life-affirming.

Colm Toibin is one of my favorite writers. The drama in his novels is found in quiet moments with portraits of ordinary characters that we get to know and love. Nora Webster is a 44-year-old woman living in a small town in Ireland. We meet her soon after her husband dies, as she grieves amid navigating her new life with four children and little income.  

Through Toibin’s exceptional character development, we become immersed in Nora’s journey: her realization of feeling confined by the well-meaning expectations of her neighbors; her relationship with her sons as she struggles to parent them through their grief; her growing self-reflection as she awakens to her hidden strength. We cheer her as she achieves her newfound independence.

While on a beach vacation, the forty-year-old mother/protagonist of this book, Delia Grinstead, walks away from her distant husband and three surly children – seemingly on a whim – to try out a new life.

Anne Tyler’s characters are unfailingly quirky, and Delia can be both frustrating and charming, but the book engagingly details the mid-life crisis of a woman eager to learn who she is.

Nancy Reisman brings her characters to life in this portrait of a family that begins after the tragic death of one of their children. Four-year-old Molly is killed by a truck while dashing across a street in Rome during a family vacation. In an instant, their lives change. 

We follow the family in the aftermath of the accident and over two decades. Reisman chronicles the birth of two more children and the slow dissolution of the Murphy’s marriage. The loss of Molly reverberates throughout the novel. Through varying points of view, we observe the guilt, regret, longing, and despair that affect each member of the family.

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.

I love smart thrillers like The Practice of Deceit—thrillers that keep me turning the pages even if my alarm is going off early the next morning; thrillers that don’t rely on violence to propel the story forward but rather on interesting, richly drawn, complex characters who are not portrayed in black and white.

Charming bachelor Eric Lavender, a psychotherapist, falls for Colleen O’Brien Golden, a lawyer, but when a conflict of interest with Colleen’s client implodes Eric’s idyllic suburban life as a husband and father to an adorable stepdaughter and a newborn, he learns the dark truth about Colleen’s past. Eric’s flaw is, to me, the one that makes a character most sympathetic—being blinded by love and desire. I love that this book is in the male point of view, and it’s done so well that when Colleen tries to destroy Eric, it is a gut punch.

This book is about a young man and woman who had a chance encounter as university students and became close friends. This book follows a will-they-won’t-they trajectory and struck a deep chord with me because it shows how one serendipitous encounter can change your life forever and how relationships of all nature are dynamic, subject to ebb and flow. The differences in character between the protagonists—bookish, no-nonsense Emma and the laissez-faire playboy Dexter—also added to the dramatic and romantic tension.

This novel has a strange mix of lightness and depth that I found very satisfying. I also enjoyed the 2011 movie based on the book starring Anne Hathaway; it’s what drew my attention to the book in the first place.

This book is a fearsomely clever collection of essays on love, marriage, and adultery, all written through the lens of trying to better understand the complexity of the human heart. Touching and tender, these explorations of relationships are wincingly honest and clearly written straight from the writer’s heartfelt experience

There is a purity of emotional intelligence to the book, which I find reassuring. Reading about the writers' relationship f*ck-ups, which they stumble into as if falling into potholes, made me feel okay about my own stumbling efforts to navigate my emotional life.

A book about the long-overlooked female cryptanalyst Elizebeth Friedman that also includes fun code-breaking activities to try out? Yes, please!

I’m not the least bit ashamed to direct people to this middle-grade book. I love that Butler Greenfield makes the world of code-breaking exciting and engaging, and I love that she puts a spotlight on a wildly talented woman who too often was seen as a helpmate to her cryptographer husband instead of as an equal (and maybe even more talented) partner.

I love that even though this is history long past, Butler Greenfield keeps me on the edge of my seat, wondering what will happen to Elizebeth next.

Literature, because it is less rule-bound than science and philosophy, may be more suited to exploring the question of who we really are, can be, and should be. Rebecca Goldstein, who earned degrees in physics and philosophy before turning to fiction, has written several novels that touch on the mind-body problem. My favorite is her first novel, The Mind-Body Problem, the funny, sexy, poignant tale of a young philosopher’s quest to solve the mind-body problem.