Books like Memories of the Future — picked by fans

I haven’t recovered yet from the way Hartman recovers the lives of young Black women through historical photographs. The images were made to rob these women of their individuality, make them fit “types,” letting them say Nothing about themselves.

But Hartman writes like she’s talking to them, and they’re wonderful. She messes with categories used by authorities who thought they “knew” these women by their transgressions. I was utterly transfixed by how she imagined these women’s lives and loves in the ordinary stairways and back alleys they called home.

The photos are gorgeous. You could talk about them for days and still have more to think about—like how when it comes to women being framed for doing something wrong, maybe Nothing has changed.

A first-person novel published in 1974, this wry, low-key thriller, quietly shattering, slaloms through marriage and infidelity, prosperity and poverty, motherhood and neglect. I first came across The Shadow Knows shortly after it was published, turned the pages at speed, and in my head argued furiously with the protagonist all the way through. Re-reading it forty years later, I was still aghast, and just as mesmerized. I think it’s safe to say the narrator’s response to sexual violence—like much else in this book—would be impossible to publish in the present; it is as revelatory about our moment as about the one in which it was written and set. 

I didn’t read Last Days of Hot Slit in time to include it in my own book about sexual violence. In truth, I could have (barely; it was published just before I finished). But I felt comfortable with my aversion to Dworkin, a crusader against assault who had found common cause with conservative activists. And Dworkin was a self-defeating font of vituperation, wasn’t she? Well, no. She was in fact altogether brilliant. Fateman’s wonderfully lucid, deeply researched introduction and the careful selection she and Scholder made of Dworkin’s surprisingly wide-ranging work, demonstrate the force and courage not just of this radical feminist’s writing, but also of her character. She was dauntless.

I spent a lot of the last year pressing The Right to Sex into the hands of my smartest friends.

This book tackles some of the thorniest issues in sexual politics today, teasing out the seeming contradictions in feminist thought on campus sexual assault investigations, the Me Too movement, incels, and more. It’s compulsively readable; I was hooked from the first essay.

We read several popular novels that explore competitive school environments. One of the best in this sub-genre is Small Admissions, by Amy Poeppel, which provides a fictional glimpse into the cut-throat world of Manhattan prep school admissions and ultra-competitive parents. Poeppel crafts a fun, wicked read with sharp dialogue. We could easily imagine what would happen when the children in Small Admissions apply to college…their parents would fit in well with the characters in our book.

This is the first book I remember reading where I learned you could write about yourself in a way that was glittery, funny, and immersive without being pretentious.

Gilman is a master of voice and narrative, plus the majority of the book–subtitled "Tales of Growing Up Groovy and Clueless"–takes place in New York City. It’s a defining book of my life as a person and as a writer. 

Katie Chandler has moved to New York City hoping for a life of glamour and excitement, only to find herself lonely, frustrated, and deeply baffled that those jaded New Yorkers keep ignoring all the weird things that keep happening. Then she discovers that the average New Yorker can’t see what she sees—she is the rare true mundane, completely unaffected by all magic, including magical camouflage. Her special abilities lead her to a new job for a magical company, and the book leads the reader into a delightful series of adventures that hilariously combine wizardry and enchantment with corporate intrigue and the tropes of Chick Lit.

Towles does an excellent job in weaving a narrative that captures a different side to the Great Depression. 

It’s not the poverty, the homeless, the downtrodden, but the elite and how they navigated the thirties. Although the protagonist (Katey) is a working-class woman, Towles creates moral complexities for her that paint a vivid picture of the world of the thirties from the heights of the elite.

It gave me a perspective of the thirties I sometimes ignored because it doesn’t fit the image of the unemployment line, the soup kitchens, and people jumping out of windows after the crash. I was able to view the thirties from a different angle.

This is a novel about Italian immigrants struggling to survive in New York City’s Little Italy during the early years of the twentieth century amid the growth of the Black Hand, the precursor to the American mafia. The book is unique in that most of the characters are the author’s actual ancestors and people with whom they had come into contact during that era. Similarly, the grisly central events described in the story all occurred.

It is beautifully written and filled with fascinating historical details. The characters and the descriptions of places and events come alive on the page. Fabiano includes an extensive Glossary of Italian Terms used in the book, as well as a multi-generational family tree. Elizabeth Street makes for very good reading!

This is post-modern crime fiction thematically linked and all with increasingly unreliable characters—because they’re each going insane.

In City of Glass private investigator, Daniel Quinn, goes mad sinking deeper into an investigation about identity. Who is telling his story and can they be relied on? Is it any of these characters who appear: ‘the author,’ ‘Paul Auster the writer,’ ‘Paul Auster the detective’? Whoosh.

I love this stuff but understand it’s an acquired taste!