Books like Lying — picked by fans

This is an incredibly intimate and thought-provoking book that marries the story of the author’s relationship and pregnancy with her partner, along with history, philosophy, and even critical theory. What makes the book so fascinating is how quickly she’s able to shift between these different modes of writing.

So, one minute, she’s talking about being a parent, and in the next paragraph, she’s revisiting how the philosophical approach to child-rearing evolved over the 20th century. It really shook me out of thinking a memoir had to be approached one way or be just one thing. 

The Dead Ladies Project follows Crispin’s inner and outer journey across Europe following her suicide attempt. As a way of trying to make sense of her own fragile condition, Crispin researches the lives of other artists who also fled abroad in order to find themselves. 

I first read The Dead Ladies Project while researching my own hybrid memoir. It was a revelation and an inspiration, this elegant weaving of Crispin’s personal story with the stories of those she imagines traveled a similar path as herself, both geographically and emotionally. 

At this time of overly curated, highly sanitized social media depictions of our lives, Crispin’s unflinching humanity is not just brave, but like water poured on arid soil.

I read Olivia Laing’s book at the height of my own loneliness: isolated, in lockdown, at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. Part memoir, part art history, part cultural criticism, the book managed to be both intimate and expansive—just what I needed as I sat by myself in front of a computer, anxiously refreshing virus graphs.

I became absorbed by the lives of Andy Warhol and Edward Hopper, Henry Darger, and David Wojnarowicz, artists I’d heard of but knew nothing about, and by the various aspects of loneliness I’d never previously considered. It’s the perfect example of the type of hybrid writing that I find truly magical.

Volume 1 of Nin’s series is my rainy day read when I don’t want to leave the house but still want to feel connected to humanity. It’s sleepy. There’s no real plot. What drama occurs takes place primarily within the author’s mind as she reflects upon what it is to be an ambitious writer (specifically, an ambitious female writer) in 1930s bohemian Paris. There is plenty of Eros in it—most famously her relationship with Henry and June Miller. But, again, this remains primarily within the author’s mind, acting as further fodder in her quest to uncover her truest emotional core. 

**What exactly is the difference between a “memoir” and a “diary”? Please write to me via my website if you have thoughts on this.

Published in 2005, some parts of this book feel un-PC in light of the body positivity and beautiful-at-any-size movements.

With that said, I live in Paris and the food behavior and mindset observations that Mireille Guiliano shares are mostly true about French women. Whereas, American women are feeling worried/guilty about the next food they might eat, French women are daydreaming about the next food pleasure they will experience.

This book is easy to read because it tells an engaging story about her experience as a high school exchange student in the United States and how she gained weight. When she returned to France, her mother and the family doctor put her on a food regime and this led her to try to distill the essential French mindset about food and eating behaviors that allow people to enjoy food, eat well-balanced meals, and maintain a healthy lifelong body weight. 

Captivating story of the first person to swim 1780 miles around Great Britain in 157 days.

The extreme fitness and mental and physical stamina required to achieve this endeavor are inspiring. Some people might consider an extreme athlete unrelatable and in a class of their own, but I gained insights into how I can improve and seek excellence at my level.

This book seriously changed my life. Easter makes an incredible case for how we’ve gotten way too comfortable and how this is contributing to our overall anxiety.

My favorite part of the book highlights the Japanese concept of “misogi,” where we challenge ourselves to reach our mental and physical peak once a year. When I read this, it inspired me so much that I decided to run my first half marathon. This book will get you stretching yourself in exciting ways and it reminds you that your body and brain are way more capable than you’re giving yourself credit.

The Science of Mom explores the research behind nine important – and controversial – parenting topics, like vaccine safety, breastfeeding, and sleep training. I liked that Dr. Callahan covered each question very thoroughly, helped the readers understand the advantages and limitations of science, and kept her writing personal and warm. You will appreciate this book if you’re looking for an in-depth understanding of the latest research (the 2nd edition was released in November 2021) and would like the tools for interpreting future scientific studies on these topics.

For a global perspective on domestic violence, Parson provides a comprehensive look at issues around domestic violence in Chile. She specifically follows the stories of several women and how they navigate through services and systems, facing further violence through the relentless barriers they find themselves up against.

Parson and I both graduated from the Rutgers Anthropology doctoral program and worked under the same advisors—albeit many years apart—and I am grateful to have had her excellent scholarship as a reference for my own. 

Jim Downs offers an essential corrective to the view of emancipation as a kind of liberal or progressive “triumphalist narrative.” Downs approaches the illness and death that the freed people suffered during and after the Civil War as a major public health crisis. He does not question the historical necessity or the morality of emancipation, but he shows that the disruptions and chaos that attended emancipation—often exacerbated by federal policy—also resulted in immeasurable human suffering and countless deaths. Historians have long recognized that emancipation was a messy affair. But what I find especially compelling is that Downs raises the question of whether the hardship caused by federal emancipation policy was intrinsic to that policy (however unintentional) or incidental—what we might call today “collateral damage.”