Books like Mooncakes — picked by fans

I love stories crammed with internal strife and triumph in the end, especially ones about finding yourself.

In this YA contemporary, teen Ben faces the worst possible reaction from their parents when they come out to them as nonbinary. Fortunately, they round up some supportive family, but this marks the beginning of a long struggle to build up their confidence and come out to everyone, not just their family. Ben may know who they are, but being honest about it is hard, especially in certain places.

There are big differences in being nonbinary or trans in conservative states versus liberal states, and also between smaller towns and bigger cities. This book reminds readers that as long as you’re safe, being true to yourself is more rewarding than hiding yourself. 

I love stories about artists, and I loved the creativity of the whole idea behind this adult fantasy set against an Asian-inspired backdrop, where art is magic and can be used to make things happen in the physical world.

But even better is the fact that the main character—a skilled artist roped into working for a corrupt entity—is nonbinary, and this is nothing more than a mundane fact. It’s a clear reminder that gender is just one part of a person’s existence—and probably not the most important one. 

It’s always great to get a reminder to be true to yourself when you don’t fit in easily.

This dystopian YA novel has good worldbuilding and a rich lexicon of new words that gives it that idiosyncratic futuristic feeling. The protagonist is a barely fifteen-year-old girl “bender”—someone who doesn’t feel comfortable in their assigned gender and doesn’t hide that. She has been sent to a camp that will determine her future, making sure she doesn’t end up in the “Blight”, a huge concentration camp for society’s undesirables.

But for a good outcome, she must conform, and her fellow campers and new experiences make that confusing and difficult. The ending is fairly open, but she has clearly learned to be true to herself and reject arbitrarily assigned labels.

I loved this nonfiction book because it puts the gender binary in the context of other things that we often falsely consider binaries.

For instance, the mind-body binary is ridiculous when you consider that experiencing emotions is not entirely in the mind, given what we know emotions and stress do to the body, both short-term and long-term. The authors also point out that feelings can be something other than completely positive or completely negative, and that the idea that emotion and rationality, or work and play, are mutually exclusive is absurd.

What makes this book especially good is that it shares practical advice for changing the binary mindset, like avoiding the either/or view by making yourself consider what possibilities are real between two extremes—or in both extremes—at the same time. Marginalized people can use these techniques to avoid judging themselves so harshly, and allies can learn better ways to understand… show more.

This book surprised me a lot. I was expecting a gory, grimdark, good-for-her revenge story—and it is that—but this book is also darkly funny! It gives What We Do in the Shadows vibes, but with demons.

The comic follows a duo of hapless twin siblings who are way over their heads, coming to terms with their demonic heritage, coping with emotionally unavailable parents, and running the family restaurant. I feel it perfectly balances dark comedy and gripping horror in its themes. (CW: gore)

I loved the echoes of culture I experienced with this novel, which has a Chinese American protagonist. The cultural expectations and even tidbits of language made me feel represented.

I also admired that Vanessa could tell fortunes through examining the dregs of a teacup; as a tea lover, I wholeheartedly endorsed the notion. I was already familiar with Lim’s storytelling and knew I’d be in for a treat of a read, especially one filled with vivid details of Paris and its excellent culinary ambiance.

Who doesn’t love Miyazaki? With the absolutely beautiful art tradition of Studio Ghibli on display, this book is the first in a series based on the movie of the same name. I loved that movie as a kid, and I loved the book as an adult. Kiki’s resilience in the face of hardship and the quirky, wholesome nature of the witchcraft is pitch perfect.

Lee depicts the world of San Francisco through the eyes of a young Chinese-American boy, navigating the grownup world of race, class, and urban life, and trying to find the place where he fits, in between his family and ethnicity, and his modern American sensibility. Also worth noting, Kai-Ting’s encounters with African-Americans, Chicanos and other Chinese people, in a novel that has nary a white person in it. 

For me, this novel combines the best of three sharply different types of books: It's a dystopian novel that paints an enthralling (and terrifying) portrait of an invented world. It's a page-turner.

And it's a story that hit some deep emotions in me. The basic narrative is that Frida, the harried and divorced mom of toddler Harriet, leaves Harriet alone while she dashes off to get herself a latte. Okay, that's stupid and risky, though Harriet is unharmed.

But in this book's world, that's enough to land Frida in a "reform school" from which it's almost impossible to prove yourself "perfect" enough to be released. As the story spiraled worse and worse, I couldn't believe this was happening.

I couldn't read another word; no, I couldn't put it down.

I first read Maxine Hong Kingston in college, but I can’t remember if I was assigned China Men or The Woman Warrior (the more famous counterpoint to China Men). All I know is that whichever one I read, I loved it so much that I immediately sought out the companion piece, which I also loved. In China Men, Kingston weaves together fiction and nonfiction, history and myth, story and memory. Is it a novel? A tapestry? I’m not quite sure what to call it, and that’s part of what I love about the book. Brief interludes of two or three pages present a single scene; longer stories narrate entire sagas. I love that this volume covers so much literal ground but ultimately feels incredibly personal.