68 Books Like Strangers We Know

I’m going to start off by saying that this novel in verse had me in tears. Often. Camino and Yahaira live very different lives except for one thing: they share a father who dies in a tragic accident. What follows is an exploration of and window into grief from two very different perspectives, a reckoning with the truth, and a path forward for both girls that allows them to move forward with a sense of hope.

While reading it, I sometimes felt as if I was probing a wound, which I mean in the best way possible. It felt cathartic in a way I hadn’t expected when I began the book. 

Dani Shapiro’s Inheritance tells the story of learning late in life that she was conceived by a sperm donor and that her father was not her biological father. It’s a gripping lyrical memoir about loss of identity the author experiences from learning the truth about her conception.

As a single mom by choice who conceived my son through sperm donation, it illustrated the importance of telling my son the truth about his origins from the beginning, and the need for all modern families who conceive children with donor eggs or sperm to be honest with their children about their conception. 

This is the classic personal account of the discovery of the structure of DNA. I read it as an early college assignment, but now find it rich in history, biology, and insight. Watson described himself as an ornithology undergraduate who avoided chemistry and physics courses in spite of a desire to do science—a common sentiment. He unfolds in frank detail how the world of science worked, and sometimes didn’t work, early post-WWII. We learn as much about bond angles and hydration as we do about laboratory politics and personality quirks beneath the effort to puzzle out the structure and function of DNA. The epilogue pays tribute to less well-known collaborators, especially Rosalind Franklin, sometimes dismissed as uncooperative, but recognized here for her essential contributions and competence as a scientist.

With DNA testing becoming increasingly popular in millions of households these days, children are being exposed to the topic at an early age. The author does an excellent job at describing the concept to kids (and to adults, if you are like me, because let’s face it, DNA science is complicated!). With a mix of bold illustrations and photos, we learn what DNA is, how it is responsible for who we are, how we can catch criminals with DNA, genetic engineering, and much more. There are no guesses. No fables. No secrets. Just easy-to-understand facts wrapped in a colorful package. There is something refreshing about that.

First off, Ito is just a masterful storyteller. If she had to write about restocking shelves at a grocery store, Ito would make it riveting and hilarious. So, just reading her writing is a highly engaging joy. Second, this story is epic. This is Ito’s story of finding her birth mother and the challenges, joys, and heartbreak of that reunion as she herself became a mother.

What I love most about Ito’s story is that she effortlessly threads the needle of being real and raw yet funny and relatable at the same time. Whether you are a mom, dad, childless, adopted, or not, you will enjoy this journey.

As I‘ve said, I love foreign-set thrillers, especially the ones set in England. And this was another book I devoured. 

Although the suspense and intrigue of the plot kept me glued to the pages, I had to put it down multiple times as I went through a range of emotions reading about black women and girls being let down, hurt, and preyed upon by the people meant to protect them.

I eagerly followed Eva’s journey, not just to find her birth mother and reclaim her identity, which was literally cut from her, but to expose the chilling truth of why four black women went missing, and the police didn’t look for them. 

This book was a sad reminder of how easily black women and girls fall through the cracks unnoticed.

Grief is such a universal experience, yet I don’t think we get enough opportunities to truly grieve.

Nicole’s book provided me with space to grieve alongside her but also to grieve my own losses. I also appreciated how she connected her father’s death to broader systemic failures and how his view of himself shaped the help he was willing to accept or not.

I was especially taken in by how the theme of community shows up throughout the book–how important community is, how we find community, and how we build communities of care.

When reading, I often mark passages and sentences I find especially evocative, powerful, insightful, or well-written. This novel is riddled with such marks. Freud does an exceptional job of creating a strong sense of time and place with elegant descriptions.

She explores the bonds between mothers and daughters, formed and broken, through three generations of women who all have a penchant for loving deeply flawed men. It’s a largely melancholy story and it stirred in me a wide range of painful emotions—heartache, disappointment, anger, frustration. Yet, the story contains moments of true beauty, as well, and ultimately concludes with a sense of brightness and redemption. 

I used to work as an oncology RN so I generally avoid cancer stories, but this author is a friend so I gave the book a chance, and wow am I glad I did. This story manages to capture the crushing reality of cancer for both the patient and the people who love her, but it’s also funny and mysterious and romantic, with plenty of meaningful things to say about grief. It takes insight and compassion to balance all those elements without ever being disrespectful to or flippant about terminal illness. I powered through this gorgeous book (the cover is even more incredible in person!) in one sitting and finished the story feeling hopeful and inspired.

I love this classic book because it provides practical advice to adoptive parents without guilting them. So much of what is written today in the adoption space can make an adoptive mom feel bad about or question themselves. 

Eldridge, an adoptee, explains what an adopted child might be feeling but starts by supporting the adoptive parents, too. For example: “I suffered a profound loss before I was adopted, and you are not responsible.” I found that to be refreshing and encouraging. I really like how Eldrige describes how an adoptee might be feeling and then follows it up with both the psychological explanation and advice on how to react to your child’s feelings. I found it to be well-researched, professional, and positive.