Books like Marlena

I loved Writers & Lovers because it captures something that isn’t talked about enough: the strange, in-between years of adulthood when you’re supposed to have things figured out but very much do not.

Casey is grieving, broke, juggling complicated romantic relationships, and trying to finish writing a book while the rest of the world seems to be moving forward. 

What resonated most with me is how honestly Lily King writes about ambition and uncertainty. Casey isn’t lost because she lacks intelligence or drive—she’s lost because life is complicated, money is stressful, and love rarely arrives in a neat, predictable form.

I found this book powerful in its subtle exposé of how, for generations, girls have been forced to see the world through the eyes of men. The gatekeepers—in art, literature, and popular culture—have historically been men.

We see how teenage Vanessa has been influenced by the sexualization of a young Britney Spears and Fiona Apple, as well as books like Lolita that have been recommended to her by her favorite teacher. Her teacher is the beneficiary of the societal grooming that has already taken root in Vanessa’s psyche, exploiting it further to serve his own sexual needs.

This book ruined me because even after her teacher tells her, “I will ruin you,” Vanessa sees herself as being in control of their inappropriate relationship when she is anything but.

Coming of age, to me, is in part about recognising that the adult world to which you’ve entrusted your childhood is not what it claimed to be: that adults can be fallible, weak, morally culpable, emotionally absent.

Giovanna in The Lying Life of Adults embarks on the same kind of desperate, determined effort to weld her family back together that Scott does in my book. The way she tries to navigate parental failure without letting it crush her is achingly sad at times, but the novel is also loud and raw and full of life.

Something I like hugely is that it’s a book which really trusts its readers: Giovanna gets no clear answers, no neat character arc. Nothing is tidy or comfortable. This is adolescence as it really feels. 

This book is a luminously honest, unflinching, and brave memoir by the marvelous Dani Shapiro, whose most recent memoir, Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love, caused a sensation when it was published in 2019. 

When Slow Motion begins, Dani is in her early 20s, adrift, rebelling against her Jewish heritage, dabbling in acting and modeling, involved in a dead-end affair with a married man. 

Then one night, a phone call changes everything- her parents have been in a dreadful car accident. Her father dies a few weeks later, and her mother requires months of intensive rehab.

Dani's tragic loss of the father she idolized and adored prompts a reckoning with her choices and a reevaluation of her life. Slow Motion is beautifully written, wrenching, and unwaveringly candid.

When my friend recommended Bootstrapper, I wanted to read it because the author’s life paralleled the struggles my daughter experienced with the mean divorce from her husband. Divorce can bring you to your knees or build your strength and character. Divorce developed strength in my daughter and in Mardi. Mardi found a way to save her farm, deal with her young sons and begin a new chapter in her life filled with love and meaning. I recommend this feel-good story to inspire hope when one is completely lost.

This is one of my all-time favorite books. I read this book in third grade when I found it in the stacks of my school library. I love this book because when I was a little girl, I was learning more about my mother’s mental health struggles and experiencing grief from my father’s death.

I dove into the story of Lyric’s childhood and her relationship with her big sister, Summer, who was Schizophrenic. I gained a better understanding of the complexities of mental illness and what it can look like navigating that with family. It taught me early on that I wasn’t alone, and I felt connected to Lyric and her big sister, Summer.

This was my first Jenkins Historical Romance and it was by no means the last. I confess I picked up the book because I was tickled that the title was my last name, but the story. Wow. It gripped me hard from the start. The historical setting is the American West of the 1870s and involves a couple who pretend to be married, for just one evening. The pretense ends in scandal and a real marriage to save their reputations, and the hero’s journey to love is deeply emotional. Some of Jenkins’s contemporary-set romances have been made into movies and I keep my fingers crossed that one day they’ll choose some of her historicals.

The name “Detroit” too often conjures images of poverty-porn: gorgeously crumbling buildings, post-apocalyptic urban decay, lost souls wandering cracked streets. Detroit: I Do Mind Dying shatters this image with unfettered energy. It chronicles the League of Revolutionary Black Workers in the auto plants of the 1960s-1970s, a refreshing reminder of the power of intersectional labor organizing; a raw look at the racism of the mainstream labor movement; and a very human chronicle of the struggles and flaws of courageous everyday workers at this critical time and place in history.

An Alabama native who moved to Detroit as a young child, renowned Black press reporter Herb Boyd paints a lively, knowing portrait of the world that his fellow Southern migrants and their offspring made in his hometown. The sweeping study examines the role that Blacks played in shaping the American car industry and autoworkers union, and fleshes out the backstories of legends who were raised or came of age in Detroit and went on to transform our national culture, from Malcolm X and Aretha Franklin to record mogul Barry Gordy and the young local musicians who became the superstars of Motown Records.

I like this book because it forces us to rethink what the Cold War really was. The book identifies key figures in anti-communist crusades in post-World War II Detroit: workers, white homeowners, city officials, Catholics, and manufacturing executives, and argues that the core elements of their “anticommunism” were not fears of Soviet incursion, but sociocultural tensions at home that derived from drastic changes in wartime and postwar Detroit, which observed a sudden influx of African Americans, Southern whites, and immigrants. 

Thus, the book argues that Cold War Detroit’s “anticommunism” was not a new development in the postwar era, but a continuation of what had previously been labeled anti-unionism, white-supremacism, anti-secular Catholicism, and anti-New deal sentiments, all of which can be characterized as expressions of ongoing “anti-modernist” tensions within American society. Such a reexamination of Cold War anti-communism is significant because it could open up new territory for rethinking what anticommunism… show more.