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.

The title alone promises violence and passion.

I was immediately drawn into Artemisia's world and imagined myself as her—a young woman artist struggling to create in a man's world. I ached for her and rooted for her and enjoyed every minute of the beautiful language and emotion of this telling.

In 1975, Hilary Callan published a paper on diplomats’ wives using the term incorporated wife.

In this edited volume, she and Shirley Ardener applied that concept to a broader set of occupations. I find it brilliant because the term alludes to the idea of marriage as two bodies becoming one while calling out the asymmetry of this corporeality, wives being “drawn into the ‘social person’ of their husbands”, as Callan puts it in the book’s introduction.

The term also connotes the couple as a corporation, which has helped me to think about how diplomatic couples work together. With its collection of articles, the volume acknowledges differences depending on context. At the same time, it shows how one general mechanism – the incorporation of wives – has consequences far beyond the personal.

This book is a fascinating collection of essays on Antigone, written by key contemporary thinkers, such as Julia Kristeva, Luce Irigaray, Judith Butler, Bracha L. Ettinger, and Adriana Cavarero. Hegel daringly compared Antigone to Socrates and Jesus and this book shows the full range of ethical questions and consequences, related to Antigone and her highest ethical demand. Through this book, the fictitious woman from Sophocles’ drama written 2,500 years ago, incarnates in front of us as a living figure of contemporary feminine ethics.

Through her marriage to Ferdinand of Aragon, Isabel of Castile united the two most powerful kingdoms of the Iberian Peninsula, becoming the first early Renaissance queen to rule in her own right. As mother to five daughters and one son, the formidable ruler provided them with an unparalleled education and procured their marriages to the reigning dynasties of Europe. Much of what is known about Isabel, however, has relied on medieval chronicles and her own image-making as a legitimate heir, devoted wife, and pious ruler. Examining how this public image was created, Barbara Weissberger demonstrates the strategies adopted by both her supporters and her detractors when negotiating the challenges posed by her gender and her political program for converting all non-Catholics to Catholicism.

While her followers viewed her as a virtuous and submissive queen, her detractors imagined her as a rapacious vixen, whose illicit power threatened gender norms, creating anxiety… show more.