Here are 100 books that Mosaic fans have personally recommended if you like
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COVID killed my father early on during the pandemic. Every day, I blogged about him. First, when he was in the ICU and I was begging the universe to save him. Then, after he died, as I grieved in a world that seemed cold and lonely. I wrote about Dad, telling stories of happier times, to keep him alive through my memories and to share his life with others. Soon, friends started recommending books about grief. In reading, feeling, and absorbing the pain of others, I somehow felt less alone.
I loved this book because it brought me into a the heart of Ward’s culture.
She brilliantly depicted the discrimination African-American men experience in America. Her love for her brother was endearing. I cried when she wove in the story of his death, and the deaths of other men she knew while growing up.
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'A brutal, moving memoir ... Anyone who emerges from America's black working-class youth with words as fine as Ward's deserves a hearing' - Guardian
'Raw, beautiful and dangerous' - New York Times Book Review
'Lavishly endowed with literary craft and hard-earned wisdom' - Time
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The beautiful, haunting memoir from Jesmyn Ward, the first woman to win the National Book Award twice
'And then we heard the rain falling and that was the blood falling; and when we came to get in the crops, it was dead men that we reaped' - Harriet Tubman
Jesmyn Ward's acclaimed memoir shines…
The dragons of Yuro have been hunted to extinction.
On a small, isolated island, in a reclusive forest, lives bandit leader Marani and her brother Jacks. With their outlaw band they rob from the rich to feed themselves, raiding carriages and dodging the occasional vindictive…
Born to a Tibetan mother and an American father, I was raised in the U.S. As a girl, I wondered why things were always changing: the seasons, people, and places I loved. Growing older, I became fascinated with how to find happiness in a world where nothing lasts forever. After college, I lived in India with my Tibetan grandmother, learning about Buddhist “bardo” perspectives on life’s ephemerality. I realized that though we resist change, accepting impermanence allows us to live happier lives. I publish widely on impermanence and host a Tricycle interview series about bardo, with guests including David Sedaris, Elizabeth Gilbert, Malcolm Gladwell, Ann Patchett, and Dani Shapiro.
Some years ago, my father fell ill and I barely made it to his bedside in time to say goodbye.
Written after her husband’s sudden death, Didion’s book has not only helped me come to terms with losing my father, but has also shed light on our all-too-human response to endings. Didion is committed to analysis yet acknowledges our irrationality in the face of loss—like when she keeps her husband’s shoes, believing he’ll need them if he returns.
I can relate to this: when my father died, I kept one of his favorite shirts and his birding binoculars, thinking he might want them later. Didion doesn’t offer closure, just a portrait of the grieving mind and heart that I find consoling and, in the end, life-affirming.
From one of America's iconic writers, a portrait of a marriage and a life - in good times and bad - that will speak to anyone who has ever loved a husband or wife or child. A stunning book of electric honesty and passion.
Several days before Christmas 2003, John Gregory Dunne and Joan Didion saw their only daughter, Quintana, fall ill. At first they thought it was flu, then pneumonia, then complete sceptic shock. She was put into an induced coma and placed on life support. Days later - the night before New Year's Eve -the Dunnes were just…
COVID killed my father early on during the pandemic. Every day, I blogged about him. First, when he was in the ICU and I was begging the universe to save him. Then, after he died, as I grieved in a world that seemed cold and lonely. I wrote about Dad, telling stories of happier times, to keep him alive through my memories and to share his life with others. Soon, friends started recommending books about grief. In reading, feeling, and absorbing the pain of others, I somehow felt less alone.
Even though Adichie’s father did not die from COVID, it happened during the pandemic when the world shut down. To this, I could relate all too well.
I spent the pandemic, and months afterward, grieving my father’s death, and I found comfort reading the stories of other daughters whose dads have died.
A personal and powerful essay on loss from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the bestselling author of Americanah and Half of a Yellow Sun.
'Grief is a cruel kind of education. You learn how ungentle mourning can be, how full of anger. You learn how glib condolences can feel. You learn how much grief is about language, the failure of language and the grasping for language'
On 10 June 2020, the scholar James Nwoye Adichie died suddenly in Nigeria.
In this tender and powerful essay, expanded from the original New Yorker text, his daughter, a self-confessed daddy's girl, remembers her beloved father.…
Jake Sledge, a rugged ex-cop turned private eye, teams up with his colossal partner Bobo to navigate the gritty streets of River City.
A murdered lawyer drags them into a web of political intrigue, neo-Nazi thugs, and bloody showdowns. With sharp wit and hard-hitting action, Jake tackles scumbags the only…
COVID killed my father early on during the pandemic. Every day, I blogged about him. First, when he was in the ICU and I was begging the universe to save him. Then, after he died, as I grieved in a world that seemed cold and lonely. I wrote about Dad, telling stories of happier times, to keep him alive through my memories and to share his life with others. Soon, friends started recommending books about grief. In reading, feeling, and absorbing the pain of others, I somehow felt less alone.
I loved this book because it was another daughter reminiscing about her relationship with her father following his death.
I could empathize with the emptiness Schultz felt in the midst of her father’s absence, but also feel the joy she experienced when remembering him. Also, I like reading books written by other lesbians, especially books about family.
In hard times, we rely on family to support us emotionally, and Schulz, through her relationship with her partner, demonstrated that beautifully.
'Extraordinary . . . a profound and beautiful book . . . a moving meditation on grief and loss, but also a sparky celebration of joy, wonder and the miracle of love . . . Witty, wise, beautifully structured and written in clear, singing prose' - Sunday Times
Longlisted for the 2022 National Book Award for Nonfiction
Eighteen months before Kathryn Schulz's beloved father died, she met the woman she would marry. In Lost & Found, she weaves the stories of those relationships into a brilliant exploration of how all our lives are shaped by loss and discovery - from…
As a writer and best-selling poet who addresses themes of mental health, addiction, grief, and hope, I have a deep understanding of the struggles that many face and what they are looking for when they are trying to heal, feel less alone, or come to terms with something. They are looking for honest, authentic writing from people who have made it out alive, free of platitudes and chronic optimism. For over 10 years, I have used my own writing to create connections and open conversations around sensitive topics, so of course, I would recommend other writers who do the same.
When I read this, I felt like I was being trusted with something delicate and personal. At times, it felt like I overhear something I shouldn't—but not in a bad way! Let me explain. Cofer’s poetry is what I prefer to read as it focuses on trauma, suicide, depression, and the often-unseen roads of relapse and recovery.
I appreciated how she also examined topics like racism, body dysmorphia, and self-harm. I walked away from this poetry book, having learned more about the human experience. Cofer's writing reminded me of the strength it takes just to survive another day, something too many of us take for granted.
"I have never been anything but a paper girl. Something to tear into pieces. Something to burn."
We've all been paper before. We've all been fragile. Leaflike and gently blowing, enough to create stories or build fires. We go through life like that. We come across things that tear us into pieces, and we keep going. We keep fighting, because we must. We look for ways to be whole. To be the person we dream ourselves to be.
Fragile by nature but tough by circumstance, paper girls are shaped by their love and loss. This collection of poetry and prose…
I’m an award-winning playwright and screenwriter. My work has been widely staged in London, across the UK, and internationally. I’ve had the honor of receiving the Royal Society of Literature Award and the Michael Grandage Futures Bursary Award, and I was also nominated for Political Play of the Year. Before I began writing, I worked as an anthropologist. Happy Death Club is my first nonfiction book.
Flora Baker's nonfiction guide combines a heart-wrenching memoir detailing her personal experience of a form of grief rarely discussed: losing both your parents in early adulthood, with an intensely practical guide for what to do when someone you love dies or is going to die.
I met Flora when we were interviewed on BBC Women's Hour together, and I wish I'd had this exact book to help guide me after my parents died because it provides invaluable advice on how to handle the bureaucracy of death, how to plan a funeral, how to clear someone's house after they have died, and how to juggle the demands that death makes on the survivors while remaining gentle with yourself and other mourners.
A vulnerable, honest and deeply personal guide to finding your way through grief. Flora Baker was only twenty when her mum died suddenly of cancer. Her coping strategy was simple: ignore the magnitude of her loss. But when her dad became terminally ill nine years later, Flora was forced to confront the reality of grief. She had to accept that her life had changed forever. In The Adult Orphan Club, Flora draws on a decade of experience with grief and parent loss to explore all the chaotic ways that grief affects us, and how we can learn to navigate it.…
Caroline Herschel has always lived in the shadows. Beholden to her wildly popular older brother, William, who rescued her from servitude, she's worked hard to build a life for herself – one where she can go unnoticed and repay the debt she believes she owes him. But when her brother…
Grief has been a part of my life since I was very young. My parents died 10 months apart when I was 11, then 12; my only sibling died when I was 20. Years later, after living through the grief of watching my marriage crumble and my 3 children struggle, my eldest son died at 20 in a single-car crash. Now, 26 years later, I read—and write—about navigating grief and uncertainty. I’m passionate about supporting those who grieve all manner of losses, including those that are spoken about and those often shrouded in silence. I hope you enjoy this book list as much as I have creating it.
I’ve wanted a book like Can Anyone Tell Me?—a practical guide to understanding what’s really happening when we’re thrust into grief—since my son’s death at age 20, more than 26 years ago.
In plain, easy-to-digest language with a smattering of humor, Jarvis tackles questions like Why can’t I remember anything? Why can’t I sleep? Why do I suddenly dislike my friends? She explains the neuroscience behind what we’re experiencing and provides brief case studies, advice for grievers, and—what I’ve found missing in so many books—advice for those who want to support them.
I recommend this book to those new to grief, those whose loss is long past, and anyone who loves someone who’s grieving—which, in the end, is nearly all of us.
If you've experienced the trauma of loss, you might find yourself struggling with the "whys" of grief: Why can't I remember anything? Why can't I sleep? Why do I feel angry and isolated? Why do I suddenly dislike my friends? Psychotherapist and grief specialist Meghan Riordan Jarvis shares a research-based resource filled with clinical insights and practical steps toward navigating loss with Can Anyone Tell Me?
"Though each experience is unique, we all grieve in our bodies," Meghan says. "By recognising grief as a kind of trauma, we better understand why our mind and body respond in sometimes perplexing ways…
When I worked as a middle school teacher, I surveyed more than 200 students how they felt about books that included sadness and grief. The overwhelming answer from the students was that while adults too often minimize their feelings and dismiss the validity of their heartache, books do not. Many young readers want books that are honest and raw enough not to shield them from the world, but to pay enough attention to its pain to light a path, knowing that they can keep moving forward in the dark when they feel less alone and less afraid.
While adults are sometimes accused of forgetting what it feels like to be young, that cannot be said of Edith Hemingway, who so vividly captures the grief of 11-year-old Annie in Road to Tater Hill.
While Annie’s dad is across the ocean serving in the Air Force, Annie’s day-old baby sister dies, leaving her mother distant and depressed. Annie, who spends the summer at her grandparents’ mountain home, finds an unexpected friendship to be part of her journey to healing.
It’s a powerful book with vivid scenes that have stayed with me years after reading it.
Annie can always count on spending summers at her grandparents'. This summer should be even better because Mama is going to have a baby soon. Before Daddy leaves for his Air Force assignment, he gives Annie a journal for summer memories. But now Annie is grieving over the death of her newborn sister. How can she tell Daddy that ever since the baby died, Mama has been slipping away? If Annie wrote those words, Mama might stay that way forever. The only comfort Annie finds is in holding a stone she calls her "rock baby." Then Annie secretly befriends a…
When I think of what it means to come of age, I think of the sacrifices one makes to be the best at what he/she enjoys doing against the challenges of life to experience the joy of living. When I failed not being successful as an actor after studying it for ten years in New York City, I came back home and finished college to become a writer. Now, I write the thrill of young characters with a talent to confront society to fulfill a dream, and if they fail, how to overcome it with the help of others, prayer, and hard work.
One book that I really recommend reading is the novel The Midnights by Sarah Nicole Smetana. The main character, Susannah, is a seventeen-year-old girl who plays a mean guitar like her former rock star father whose attention she craves very much. She is driven with passion to pursue her dream even after her father suddenly dies unexpectedly, and must uproot to a new city where she eagerly takes on the challenge. The story is an emotionally charged coming-of-age novel involving loss, creativity, and feeling confident in your voice, while feeling confident in your choices to define who you are.
This voice-driven coming-of-age YA novel is perfect for fans of Katie Cotugno and Playlist for the Dead.
Susannah Hayes has never been in the spotlight, but she dreams of following her father, a former rock star, onto the stage. As senior year begins, she's more interested in composing impressive chord progressions than college essays, certain that if she writes the perfect song, her father might finally look up from the past long enough to see her. But when he dies unexpectedly, her dreams--and her reality--shatter.
While Susannah struggles with grief, her mother uproots them to a new city. There, Susannah…
Rodney Bradford comes into Lindsay's restaurant, offers to buy her small house for double its value, eats her brownies, and drops dead on the sidewalk in front. Next, her almost-ex-husband offers to sign the divorce papers, but only if she'll give him her small,…
I came to discover the healing power of art, nature, and ritual while I was grieving the loss of my father a decade ago. I would go to the park and make impermanent and symmetrical art from found twigs, flowers, pine cones, berries, and leaves as a way to ground, heal my broken heart, and make sense of a chaotic time. Since then, I‘ve made over a thousand nature altars, written a book about it (Morning Altars), and have taught tens of thousands of people around the world to make meaning in their lives through a creative collaboration with the natural world. It still amazes me that something so simple and impermanent can bring such wonder and resilience.
Because my art is impermanent, I write and think about that subject a lot. And IMHO, no one speaks as beautifully and powerfully to the subjects of impermanence, life, loss, and beauty better than Prechtel. Prechtel's book is a well of indigenous wisdom on the living relationship between grief and praise. He says, "When you’re grieving for the thing you got, it's called praise. When you're praising for the thing you lost, it's called grief.” If the Earth is speaking her wisdom, this author is delivering it faithfully and beautifully to us.
Inspiring hope, solace, and courage in living through our losses, author Martín Prechtel, trained in the Tzutujil Maya shamanic tradition, shares profound insights on the relationship between grief and praise in our culture--how the inability that many of us have to grieve and weep properly for the dead is deeply linked with the inability to give praise for living. In modern society, grief is something that we usually experience in private, alone, and without the support of a community. Yet, as Prechtel says, "Grief expressed out loud for someone we have lost, or a country or home we have lost,…
