Books like Milk and Honey — picked by fans

Few books have reminded me more powerfully that our circumstances and our inner life are not the same thing.

I first read Man's Search for Meaning years ago, and its impact has only deepened over time. Frankl's willingness to look directly at suffering without becoming defined by it challenged many of the assumptions I carried about happiness, success, and what it takes to live a meaningful life.

I return to this book because it continually reminds me that meaning is not something life hands us once everything finally goes our way. It is something we discover in how we meet what life places before us.

During difficult seasons of my own life, Frankl's perspective helped me remember that even when we cannot control our circumstances, we still have a relationship with how we respond to them. Few books have given me more courage, perspective, and hope.

Few novels have made me think as deeply about family, identity, and inherited expectations as A Woman Is No Man.

What stayed with me wasn't just the story itself, but the quiet emotional weight carried by its characters. I appreciated the compassion Etaf Rum brings to each of them, even when their choices are difficult to understand.

I found myself thinking about the expectations we inherit from our families and cultures, and how easily they can pass from one generation to the next. Sometimes, questioning those expectations can feel like you're questioning the people you love—or even giving up a part of yourself.

This book reminded me that finding your own voice often begins with having the courage to question the stories you've always been told.

Few books have made me question my own life quite like Untamed.

I didn't connect with this book because my life is anything like Glennon Doyle's—it isn't. I connected with it because she puts words to something I think many of us experience: the quiet pressure to become the person everyone else expects us to be. It made me ask myself a deeply uncomfortable question: Whose life am I actually living?

I found myself thinking about all the ways expectations can slowly shape who we are, often so quietly that we don't even realise it is happening. How much of who we are is actually us—and how much of it is the version we've learned to perform for everyone else?

I kept thinking about how much courage it takes to stop performing and start listening to yourself instead.

No memoir has changed the way I think about identity quite like Educated.

I went into it expecting a story about education. What stayed with me was something much deeper—the emotional cost of questioning the beliefs, people, and world that shaped your entire life.

What I admired most about Tara Westover's story was that she didn't make things simple. There were no easy heroes or villains. Just people, complicated relationships, and the uncomfortable reality that sometimes growth means questioning everything you once accepted as truth.

I kept thinking about how difficult it can be to become yourself when doing so means letting go of parts of the person you were taught to be.

I was deeply affected by this, like she was confiding in me.

Whether her memories were tragic, ugly, hilarious, witty, classy, silly, poignant, or just plain practical, it was like we were sharing a glass of wine and she was telling me everything. 

I loved that she sent me every feeling of the rainbow, and each was felt deeply. I love when a story makes me laugh and cry. It was inspiring and beautiful to spend some time with this poet, reminiscing about her early years, before she was the Maya we know now.

Also, I feel schooled in what it was like to be black in America at that time, and what a gutsy journey she was on. It was an important eye-opener, as well as a warm invitation.

This fascinating and charming book was written by a French magazine editor after he suffered a massive stroke and was locked inside his own body, unable to speak or move. Incredibly, he wrote this book in his mind throughout the day and then each letter was slowly transcribed by blinking his eyes. I kept thinking about this book long after I read it. It’s a nightmare scenario, but he leads us all the way through it. We’re with him as he survives and even finds meaning when almost everything else is lost.

This book was chosen because of the deep, profound love that is displayed throughout the book. It speaks to how vulnerable a person makes themselves when they love deeply and how scary that can be. It also speaks to how you can feel so totally lost in loving another person that you forget to love yourself. I could identify with loving so intensely also and having my heart broken. I also identified with the journey of coming to loving oneself again and with that being open to finding someone better. 

I love The Forty Rules of Love because it left me with more questions than answers—and that's probably exactly why it stayed with me.

I've always been drawn to books that don't try to wrap everything up neatly or tell you exactly what to believe. What stayed with me wasn't one particular moment or lesson, but Elif Shafak's willingness to leave room for mystery, faith, doubt, and transformation.

I loved that the book allows different perspectives to exist without insisting that one has to be completely right and the other completely wrong. As someone who is naturally drawn to questioning and reflection, I found myself slowing down while reading it and thinking more deeply about spirituality, compassion, love, and what it really means to grow.

It's one of those rare books that doesn't end when you close the last page. It quietly continues the conversation in your head.

This isn't a book I'd usually pick up, but after hearing rave reviews, I decided to give it a go, and I'm so glad I did! It's a slow-burn suspenseful crime novel, which would usually lose my attention as I'm more a fan of fast-paced reads, but Will's writing is so wonderfully rich and vibrant that it just wouldn't put me down! Yes, it had me that gripped. 

The story follows Thanh, a young Vietnamese woman who has been trafficked into the country (England) along with her sister. They get separated, and Thanh is sold off as a 'wife' to a farmer in the Fenns who keeps her there, hidden from the rest of the world.

The story is told in first person, and it gives a pretty stark insight into the domestic horrors of human trafficking and the bleak options she faces. But it's also an incredible story of… show more.

If you’re interested in learning about domestic violence from a cross-cultural perspective, the literature on domestic violence in anthropology is an excellent place to look.

This is the second book by Jennifer Wies and Hillary Haldane, two anthropologists who have carved out a space for understanding how to apply anthropological insights to actual domestic violence work. This book offers cross-cultural ideas for how to do just that from a variety of anthropologists working all around the world who continue to work together on this issue from an applied anthropological perspective.

Both Wies and Haldane are mentors of mine, and Haldane was a huge support in the development of my own research. I have also collaborated with several of the authors in this book and can attest to the excellence of their research.