Books like Nobody's Princess — picked by fans

I love the way Miller treats mythic figures as sharing reality with humans.

Who can forget blue-green Thetis coming out dripping from the sea to meet her son, the hero Achilles? This is how the ancients wrote about the gods, and it's terrific to see it making a comeback after a hundred years or so when myth was treated as a source for psychoanalysis.

I was not so much inspired by this book (it came late) as encouraged and confirmed in my own treatment of otherworldly figures. They are there, for those with the eyes or imagination to see.

Another perspective of the Trojan War from a minor player’s perspective, Daughter of Yesterday, is the first mythology retelling I read as a child, and it still holds up. A series of unfortunate events puts the protagonist in Helen of Troy’s household as a companion for her young daughter.

I’d never read a version of the myth that views Helen as a mother, an often-forgotten fact in retellings. Myths are so often taught in isolation that this was the first time I realized these mythological characters like Helen and Cassandra knew each other.

The fact that the main character is a completely powerless child trying her best to survive the chaos around her ramps up the tension and highlights the tragedy of the war. 

I was so excited when this book hit the shelves because the back cover copy read like it would be an adult version of Nobody’s Princess. They are very different books, but this one had the magic of interconnecting myths I craved.

Clytemnestra is featured as a dual protagonist, which was a bonus because I have never seen books that strongly feature Helen’s sister. It delves into the sisters' childhood and follows them through their adulthood into the Trojan War.

I loved how the book morphed from an almost fairy tale feel to a tragedy that perfectly captured the sense of frustration, helplessness, and devastation of the women embroiled in the Trojan War. 

I can’t write a list of Helen of Troy's many faces without including the most famous source material. Though it’s marketed for children, it’s one of the most faithful and accessible adaptations of the Iliad that I’ve ever read.

I loved the illustrations and how the scenes stayed faithful to those written many centuries ago while still packing an emotional punch to a modern-day reader. The ancient classics that spread orally are all translated retellings, so while there’s definitely value in reading the more academic versions, those aren’t any more or less valid than an accessible text with modern language that pulls you into the story.

I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to know the ins and outs of the original to better appreciate retellings. 

Hilary Westfield has always dreamed of being a pirate, but the Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates doesn’t allow girls to join them.

I know a thing or two about being the only girl in the room, so Hilary’s refusal to accept this is both relatable and aspirational. She takes rollicking adventure into her own hands as she sets sail on a journey with magic, pirates, and an endearing talking gargoyle.

Like Ludwig Wittgenstein himself, this book is a work of extremes.

The delusions are grand, the narrative is dense, and the non-sequiturs are out of control. And yet, the more time you spend with it, the more these inhibitors become the very reason for your voracious engagement.

Once you get through that, what stands out about this work is the nuanced approach Markson takes to the female voice. On the one hand, it’s very subtle, with thin, cosmetic references to clothing, aesthetics, and male love interests. But as you immerse yourself in the text, you begin to sense a deeper ambition is possibly at work, inherent in the stream-of-consciousness narrative he employs.

The other thing that’s cool about this book is the series of disparate facts Markson weaves together about a range of cultural figures. It’s easy to take these as throwaway comments until you remember they were accumulated manually,… show more.

I was deeply moved by this book because it beautifully integrates Zen Buddhism with a powerful focus on compassion and social justice. I am struck by how Manuel combines teachings on mindfulness with insights into racial and gender justice, making the book a profound guide for both personal growth and activism.

The way Manuel encourages cultivating tenderness towards ourselves and others really resonated with me, offering a deeply spiritual yet practical approach to addressing social inequalities. This book has enriched my understanding of both spiritual practice and social awareness, making it a vital read for anyone committed to a compassionate and informed approach to activism.

For those of us who grew up thinking we were the weaker sex/gender, this is a must-read book. When the deck is not stacked in favour of upper-body strength and short bursts of speed, and when factors such as height and weight are controlled (as the latter is, for example, in wrestling competition), women may actually be the stronger sex. I was particularly intrigued—no, annoyed—to read about sports that became segregated by sex only after women proved their superiority (for example, skeet shooting and rifle shooting).

Gridiron Gourmet likewise returns to a world somewhat familiar to me. Having grown up American, with a father and brother seriously enamored of football, I understood a certain amount about American ideas of sports and manhood. Football (and other men’s sports) had also played an important role in the community of Bushler Bay (on the Olympic Peninsula), where I had lived and conducted ethnographic research among loggers in the 1970s. At that time, folks there had seen football as one important avenue for young men to learn teamwork, competition, and discipline – traits considered key in making a livelihood. Gridiron Gourmet builds on my own understanding, adding the current emphasis on foods men consider appropriate and ‘manly’ to eat. Although I had some sense of this preference, this book clarifies common perspectives among American men in much more detail.

Ann Leckie is not an author known for standard narration or gender roles, but she is known for great science fiction. Which is why I was astounded and delighted by her fantasy novel, The Raven Tower. Told in the second person, just when you think you know who is spinning the tale…well, I won’t give anything away except to say this is an amazing book filled with gods and rituals, tradition and sacrifice, that will keep you guessing right to the end.