100 Books Like Song of a Captive Bird

I haven’t read many stories with witches, but that changed when I read the story of these women facing real problems, sadly still resonating today. Before reading this book, I certainly wouldn’t have considered witches to be important on a list of strong women solving problems.

I was sucked into this story of three sisters living in a world that forbids witchcraft. I wanted to fight alongside these sisters as they called upon the bond between women and our common wisdom. I wanted to fight the evil suppressors of women’s right to vote and rights to exist and thrive as women. I still want to lend my voice and privilege to protect their library. They find their ways, not without sacrifices, but always with flair.

Shocking reversal of fortunes exposes the lines of assumed gender-based reactions to power and human reactions to power. (Pun intended)

I’m fascinated by both the format Alderman used to tell her story and the way she exposed me to the psychology of human nature. I aspire to this level of storytelling.

I realized the reason men and other demographics of power fear women or other minorities gaining power is that they understand the underbelly of decisions made from positions of power. They’re scared of the tables being turned. Those people might escalate their fear to terror if they see how clearly we see their actions and consider using them ourselves.

I tip my hat to author Marie Benedict. Nearly every book she writes could be on this list. In The Personal Librarian, Belle Da Costa Greene shocks me with her strength to walk into a different world in order to follow her passion for books and art. I can’t imagine being forced to compartmentalize your identity to also be true to yourself.

She solves the problem that blocks blacks from holding professional positions beyond white people’s expectations. She also breaks the role barrier for women as J P Morgan’s Personal Librarian. I’m inspired by Belle’s tenacity and determination for excellence. Alongside the story of an impressive woman, I enjoyed the peek into the process of the extreme wealthy’s acquisition of their collections.

I love “Persepolis” because the author very accurately and with a great amount of humor describes, and through graphics, portrays the very heavy topic of the 1979 Iranian Revolution. 

She makes it easy for people who weren’t there at the time and are not a part of the culture or history to imagine what happened. I like how she describes family relationships, especially with her parents, in a tribal culture. In a very transparent way, she accurately describes the differences between private family life and the one that is portrayed publicly.

This is absolutely the GOAT of lesbian historical fiction. Fingersmith is probably my favorite of Sarah Waters’ work, but this is simply iconic and changed my life when I read it as a teenager. 

It’s a raucous, vibrant riot of a book, and Nan is an unforgettable protagonist. Readers will barrel through the sights and sounds of Victorian London as Sarah Waters brings them to life in gorgeous technicolor. Sarah Waters is unbelievably skillful at blending Nan’s personal awakening in with the social and political context of England at the end of the 19th Century. A masterclass, and you’ll never see oysters in the same way again. 

This 1925 autobiographical novel dropped me into the middle of New York’s Lower East Side Jewish neighborhoods in the early 20th century. The main character has a life of substantial struggle with and against her family, employers, landlords, and an American society that seems intent on erasing her.

While the book has elements of both a classic immigrant story and a coming-of-age tale, I love how it reveals the realities of urban living for a young immigrant woman. The pace and practices of making a home in a too-small space, getting by on minimal resources, scrumming for work, and avoiding harassment fill this book’s chapters. As a social and cultural historian, reading about daily activities–both struggles and joys–in a different time and place helps fire my imagination about not just what happened but how it might have felt to experience it.  

I think the title pulled me toward this book. I knew it was about a carpetmaker in 17th-century Persia, and I guessed that the blood of flowers might refer to the dye used to color the wool for the rugs.

I found this way of describing dye to be extremely evocative. As it turns out, that was only the beginning of my fascination with this beautiful book. Following a young woman in the beautiful city of Isfahan, I had no idea that I would learn so much about the process of making carpets. I even found myself looking up ancient and medieval Persian carpet photos online (they’re amazing!).

The protagonist manages to do some extremely stupid things, and at one point, I found myself yelling at her. But she matures. That character development from an immature and reckless young girl to a strong, self-reliant woman was really lovely to experience. 

This is a memoir by a 32-year-old Iranian-American journalist who, in 2009, was accused and sentenced to 8 years in Evin Prison for being an American spy. Paraphrasing my review in The San Francisco Chronicle, Saberi's skillful reconstruction of dialogue leads to a spot-on chronicle of the paranoia and utter buffoonery of the Iranian government and its apparatchiks. I was especially impressed by the way she survives her time in solitary confinement – the resources of her mind that keep her sane. Beyond that, this memoir is a kind of coming-of-age story for those of us in the diaspora who can be a bit naïve about how safe we are as journalists and US citizens in dictatorships. Saberi is freed after 4 months, thanks to international pressures, but she’s haunted by those she met in prison who are left behind. 

Five Iranian women of very different backgrounds come together in a lush Persian garden outside Tehran. We learn their stories, their dreams, their hopes. The central theme is as the title suggests: what would a world without men be like? How would life away from the narrow gender-defined roles of an oppressive patriarchal system work? If you like magical realism, there is plenty here, and it’s beautifully rendered. Because of her writing, the author spent many years in prison under the Islamic Republic. Yet she never stopped writing. I think she should be considered for the Nobel Prize in literature. This novel was also made into a film.

This story about three ordinary, working-class women is, to me, a measured, realistic depiction of how society often denies a woman even her most basic desires. In contemporary Japan, being female can still be a stifling experience, and this novel captures the claustrophobic confines of womanhood through its quiet, deliberate tone.

I was especially drawn to how these women’s small acts of rebellion took on greater significance when considered in the context of their lives. Not all battles are epic. Sometimes, big victories or even peace with oneself can be found in the tiniest acts of resistance.