100 Books Like Parrotfish

I first read this extraordinary, heartwarming story of self-reliance and survival when my own children were growing up, and I’ve returned to reading Island of the Blue Dolphins often throughout my adult years, typically at times when I find myself struggling to regain my footing as I face personal problems and challenges.

Published in 1960, this book tells the story of a young girl named Karana who spends nearly two decades abandoned and alone on the desert island her tribe evacuates after a deadly conflict with Aleutian otter hunters. I’ve often recommended this slight but powerful tale to women friends suffering from feelings of desolation and helplessness, and Karana’s courage, resilience, and creativity have succeeded in lifting their spirits and inspiring hope.

I was amazed by the delicate and perceptive description on ritual scenes and the protagonist’s unfailing pursuit of love, which are rooted from unique Japanese culture.

The book was an eye-opener for me, and it was one of the reasons why I became fascinated by Japanese traditional aesthetics and ideas. 

I loved the language in this novel-in-verse and the valuable insights from an “outsider” experiencing American culture.

As a refugee fleeing war-torn Syria, Jude, the main character, finds one of the only places she feels safe and accepted is in her class for English learners. The example of her teacher, Mrs. Ravenswood, shows how sometimes one person can’t change the world, but they might change the world for one person. It made me think about how small things I do and say impact people around me. 

Nhamo is the remarkable twelve-year-old heroine in this engrossing book who bravely sets out to escape an arranged marriage to a cruel man. Summoning uncommon courage, she builds a raft and launches it upon an enormous lake where she must war against enemies both seen and unseen as well as the threat of drowning and starvation. Mystical African beliefs come alive in this book written by a white woman who is deeply versed in the culture and customs of Mozambique and Zimbabwe. Skillfully rendered, it is often cited as a classic adventure story for young people and was one of the catalysts that convinced me to write my adventure stories.

Mounk’s book is not about mental health per se, but I found that he provided a clear, compassionate framework for understanding the current obsession with identity politics – which, in my experience, relates to our current mental health crisis.

Prioritizing race, gender, and other aspects of identity means that we focus less on universal aspects of the human experience. As a therapist, I know that understanding our suffering from a universal perspective brings healing and transformation. We lose so much when we lose this.

Mounk’s book helped clarify my thinking about identity politics, and I didn’t find it narrow or polemical. 

I loved this book! The author has interviewed lots of trans people and has nicely captured the diversity of the different expressions of gender which is such an important part of being transgender. It covers all aspects of transitioning such as hormones, surgeries, coming out, sex and sexuality, and other areas.

The challenges faced by the trans community are also covered, from transphobia, discrimination, and hate crime to accessing vital health care. Declan Henry has provided valuable insights and lessons for the LGBTQ+ community and all who wish to be an ally to the trans community.

I have always thought that we desperately need to hear from transmen and transwomen to help distinguish the effects of biological sex from those of cultural gender conditioning—more specifically, to illuminate both the influence of our respective high levels of estrogen or testosterone) and, in a word, sexism. Using interviews with transmen, Schilt very much does the latter. Consider this book a thorough precursor (2010) to the much-publicized experiences of Martin and Nicole (Google it); Martin concludes, about his experience being treated as Nicole, "It sucked." Indeed. (And the surprise experienced by so many transmen at their post-trans experiences supports the view that most women have no idea how easy men have it.)

Lucy Sante’s memoir is about discovering something she’s always known - that while she was born Luc Sante, she has always been Lucy Sante. I found the book transcendent.

As my young friends began to question their sexuality and crave a non-binary world, I became curious about how that felt from the inside. As a journalist, when I’m confronted by something complex, I turn to original sources and voices. When Lucy Sante, one of the greatest wordsmiths of our time, began her transition, I knew this was a book for me. Her story took me on a tender, brutal, intimate journey that ultimately had me wondering: Am I living my true life?

A critical component of the gender equality booklist is trans rights, which is why I recommend this autobiography. I hesitate to say too much about it—because I just think the best thing to do is dive in and read this for yourself. I will say that the words Chloe chooses and the way she talks about her own transition—it was surprising, and heartbreaking, and insightful, and beautiful—all at the same time.

Chloe has also become a friend of mine, and I can say that she is every bit as tenacious and lovable in person as she is on the page. I often give this book as a gift to people who are thinking of, in the middle of, or are supporting a loved one through a gender transition. 

This book is a fascinating and well-written book on ‘gender refugees’ –people who make their claim for asylum based on their gender identity.

The book illuminates these refugees’ unique and challenging journeys as gender refugees, from their reasons for leaving their countries, the various violences in the asylum system, the South Africa they imagined, and the South Africa they experienced.

The book de facto deals with urban refugees. South Africa does not practice a system of encampment, while nearly all the participants in the research reside in Cape Town and Johannesburg.