Books like Losing the Moon — picked by fans

This novel is an immersive read with heaps of empathy for all its characters but especially for the two sisters whose perspectives are at the center of the story: the twin who disappears to live a secret life, passing as white, and the twin left behind.

We don’t get the perspective of Stella, the vanished twin, until 14 years after her disappearance, 150 pages into the book. By then, I was fully absorbed in the grief and unanswered questions of the people she’d abandoned, eager to finally know where she’d been all this time and to understand her complex motivations and the emotional and mental toll of relinquishing—and hiding—her racial identity, her community, her sister, and her past. I picked this book up and didn’t put it down until it was done.

Kaya Clark is the wild child I longed to be growing up. Although her family story is tragic and well-explored, how she inhabits her world of nature and allows it to inhabit her is stunning. Once again, she is a young woman who is an outcast who manages to rise above her limitations and those placed on her by society. 

Beyond the incredible storytelling and intriguing plot lines, I was mesmerized by the natural world of the North Carolina marshes, being as much a main character as Kaya herself. The intricate details of the lushness and cruelty of the natural world were incredible. In looking back at my favorite novels, one of the commonalities is the writing’s ability to come alive in my head and to take up a permanent space as much as my own lived memories. This novel is one of those.

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 novel made a small community come alive for me.

The rhythms, the friendships, the generational passing down of story—it all resonated. What moves me most is how the past and present sit beside each other, shaping one another quietly. It showed me that belonging is built in ordinary spaces: kitchens, churches, front porches.

As I reflected on my grandmother and the community that shaped my family, I thought about this same inheritance. The power of memory, story, and place.

I adore books with emotionally flawed characters because they represent all of us.

They represent me. A tragedy in my own life led me to My Name is Anton. The growth of Anton, learning to live with his own heartbreak, deflecting his mother’s harsh parenting and his father’s apathy, was rewarding to me.

The ending was particularly gratifying, honest, yet heartbreaking, just like life.

I love this memoir because Robin Rinaldi fiercely loves and trusts herself for being sexual, and shows us from the inside what it means to positively claim our sexuality in midlife.

Rinaldi undertook a brave and vulnerable journey—a year-long break from her companionable but passionless marriage to find passion by pursuing a variety of sexual traditions and relationships with men. Her story is not only an entertaining page-turner, but deeply vulnerable and satisfying. 

She chronicles her heart as well as her body, and reminds us that it is not always easy to take risks—there are challenges, heartaches, and rewards in creating a deeply satisfying life. Further modeling bravery, she also wrote an Atlantic article about transcending the slut shaming she received from writing the book.  

I was immediately drawn into this story’s premise: former best friends who haven’t seen each other in forty years reuniting in Los Angeles for one night of conversation, a night that will leave each woman changed forever.

Lacey and Edith met and bonded as young girls on the East Coast, but it is Hollywood that tore them apart. I am always interested in stories of female friendship, when ties are strongest, and when they are severed. And, of course, the introduction of a movie star love interest is bound to test even the tightest bond.

This story is especially poignant because it is told by two older women, looking back, who understand the consequences of their decisions and know what they would do over again and what they regret most. 

One of the best Japanese crime novels, this is the story of four women trapped in suburban hell, seeking to escape their empty lives. When one of them murders her husband in a fit of rage, they collude to dispose of his body, gradually sinking into a criminal netherworld.

I loved it for its crisp and taut prose, solid and relatable characters, dense and fast-paced plot, and heavy themes of urban isolation and aimlessness. 

A teenage girl in Maine steals a dictionary at the mall and is sentenced to do community service in her small town’s library. The middle-aged head librarian there has exiled herself from a divorce accompanied by public scandal. A much younger New York City stockbroker who had piles of money turns up in town after losing everything in the 2008 crash. He believes his aunt’s savings booklet from a bank long subsumed by another—he just needs to figure out which one—will put him back on his feet. I love how gently this novel reveals these damaged characters’ foibles and hopes. They seem to have nothing in common, yet they heal each other. And there is (spoiler alert) a sexy little romance between the librarian and the stockbroker.

Jane Fallon does seriously good messed-up families. I’ve read most of her books, but particularly enjoyed this one – the characters aren’t all likeable by any means, but the set-up is great and you’re desperate to find out how things will be resolved. Helen has been having an affair with a married man, Matthew, for four years when he suddenly turns up on her doorstep, announcing he has left his wife and twin daughters; the timing is unfortunate because Helen has just decided she wants to dump him. Rather than doing the sensible thing and knocking the relationship on the head, Helen goes rogue and ends up befriending Matthew’s wife and getting off with his grown-up son (she’s his age, and initially doesn’t know they’re related). Not surprisingly, chaos ensues.