100 Books Like Rememberings

Patti Smith’s book beautifully chronicles her intense and formative friendship with the groundbreaking artist Robert Mapplethorpe as they navigated the vibrant and often gritty art scene of late 1960s and 1970s New York City.

Theirs wasn’t a fairytale romance, but a complex, evolving bond between two flawed yet undeniably brilliant creatives. Reading about their struggles, their artistic pursuits within the legendary Chelsea Hotel, and the wider New York City scene evoked a strong sense of nostalgia for me, a time and place I've always found artistically inspiring.

The exploration of their creative partnership, the push and pull between them as individuals finding their artistic voices, is something I’ve often yearned for but haven’t quite experienced in such a profound way.

Daphne A. Brooks’ book is a revolutionary work, centering more than a century of innovations by Black women in popular music who have been marginalized, overlooked, or erased.

Situating Zora Neale Hurston as a sound archivist and performer and Lorraine Hansberry as a cultural critic alongside blues pioneers such as Bessie Smith and Mamie Smith and contemporary artists like Janelle Monáe and Valerie June, Brooks doesn’t merely fill in blind spots.

She exposes how those blind spots reflect the partial, subjective view of white male critics and historians.

Showing us a different way of seeing and listening to culture, Brooks has informed and inspired my thinking, and some of the best work I’ve done as a journalist, including this piece about Elizabeth Cotten, whose music fueled the 1960s folk revival.

With amazing illustrations by Rachelle Baker, the journalist Clover Hope spotlights dozens of women who have played an integral role in hip-hop’s story, from legends such as Roxanne Shanté and Lil’ Kim to less often celebrated trailblazers like Bytches with Problems.

Documenting women's often unrecognized influence, Hope leaves you with a sense of how deeply they have nevertheless left their mark, and keeps their legacy alive for future generations of music-makers.

Nashville-based singer-songwriter Margo Price is the real deal.

Her beginnings were humble, and her struggles have been many. Her memoir takes you on the road with her through bad low-paying, low-attended early gigs, drinking, and drugs. Price's marriage/creative partnership is tender and beautiful, yet becomes fragile as it shoulders the unbearable loss of a newborn son.

Through it all, you can feel Price’s grit and determination to survive with her soul intact, making it in an industry that pressures artists to conform to its priorities and sets them up to fail when they resist- or simply try to be themselves.

Price’s music is the soundtrack to her courageous story in progress. In the best possible way, this book reads like the liner notes: honest, heartfelt, and profound.   

Living Colour enjoyed an all too brief moment of superstardom at the same time as Sinéad O’Connor.

Grappling with issues such as racism, classism, and police brutality, it fused different musical styles. Yet white critics often saw the all-Black band as a rock anomaly- which was ironic considering that Little Richard and the saxophonist Maceo Parker (who played with James Brown) were among Living Colour's key collaborators! 

Through interviews with the band and key players in the production and reception of its bold, experimental 1990 album, Time’s Up, Mack shows why Living Colour was (and is) musically and politically powerful, and why it remains influential.

For me what makes this book really shine is her presence in the story as a Black girl growing up loving rock, then later as a scholar reclaiming it.

This book shares the author's intimate experiences managing the band Nirvana during their meteoric and transformative rise to global fame.

Having been a journalist before transitioning into management, Danny offers a poignant and complex portrait of a troubled genius, delving into Kurt’s artistic brilliance, his internal struggles, and the tragic events that ultimately unfolded. Having worked in the music industry for decades myself, I knew some of the people within Danny’s management company and witnessed much of this era from an insider's perspective.

While Danny’s account is undoubtedly shaped by his personal experiences, it provides valuable insight into the complex circumstances surrounding Nirvana. It's not presented as a definitive truth, but rather as a thoughtful and honest tribute and opinion from someone who was closely involved. I found his straightforward approach refreshing.

This is a deeply personal story from a friend who witnessed firsthand Tom Petty’s journey from being nearly discarded by his record label to achieving legendary status, a testament to unwavering belief and sheer persistence.

Having known Jon for years as a dedicated community builder with an exceptional ability to bring people together, it came as no surprise to me that his account of discovering and championing Tom Petty's music to a massive American audience is such a compelling and well-told story.

Jon’s authenticity and trustworthiness shine through, and his narrative feels like a genuine recounting of a pivotal moment in music history, coming from someone who was there and believed from the start, rather than someone trying to capitalize on Tom’s fame posthumously.

Debbie Harry, the iconic frontwoman of Blondie, offers a strikingly frank and visually rich account of her life in Face It.

From her early days to the explosion of Blondie’s popularity, she doesn't shy away from revealing the grit, glamour, and vulnerability that lay beneath the cool, confident persona. As a teenager, I admired Debbie for her captivating looks, but it was Blondie's music that truly cemented her in my mind.

Learning the backstory behind her journey, including the surprising revelation that she worked as a waitress at the Playboy Club in NYC before finding fame, and gaining insight into her complex relationship with Chris Stein, resonated deeply.

Her honesty in recounting her experiences was truly compelling.

The first time I heard Two Hearts Beat As One by U2 was glorious! I was entranced by the driving drums and the bass line and inspired by Bono’s lyrics, which spoke to my burgeoning interest in how to be cool. And U2 was cool in the 80s. And Bono was one of the coolest musicians I looked up to back then.

His memoir goes deep into explaining where his bravado and “cool” come from. It was a darker and more complicated place than I expected.  Having recently endured the death of my own mother, shortly before I read this book, I was moved to read about how the death of his mother impacted him and motivated him. 

I came away with even more respect for Bono’s life philosophy and his commitment to his family, his bandmates, and his ongoing craft as a musician. 

Michelle made me laugh, made me cry, and made me feel the full weight of reconnecting with a mother only to lose her.

I related deeply to her sense of self unraveling after losing the person who anchored her world—I lost my own mother in my late twenties. Through her vivid memories of time spent with her mother and grandmother, and her journey of reclaiming herself through the foods of her childhood, Michelle pulled me in and carried me forward.