Books like Take Me With You — picked by fans

When I think of The Girl Who Could Breathe Underwater, the first thing that comes to mind is how nuanced and sensitive it is. It tackles an exceptionally difficult topic—sexual trauma—with a finesse and respect for the goodness of humanity that takes my breath away. There are Bad Guys in this book, but Erin Bartels reminds us that they, too, have back stories and reasons why they became the people they are. This book is the epitome of finding beauty amid life’s toughest challenges.

I have adored everything I’ve read by Nicole Baart, and they all fit this theme. I chose this one because all the characters in it are so real. It features two women who are both punishing themselves for a tragedy they believe to be their fault. In this book, the main characters are so true, you almost can’t believe they’re made up. They’re complex people whose struggles and brokenness end up making ripples that bump into other people’s struggles and brokenness. Just a bunch of people doing the best they can and messing it all up and having to start again. This is a book that makes you feel like maybe all hope isn’t lost, after all.

Sometimes you hear about someone who’s experienced something truly terrible, and you think two things in quick succession: “Thank God that’s not me” and “How can anyone possibly recover from that?” Some people who find themselves contemplating the unthinkable—like, say, instant and permanent paralysis, as the main character of How to Walk Away—sink into bitterness, wallowing in their victimhood.

But some rise to meet the challenge and find richness and joy and a meaning to life that they didn’t even know they were missing.

That’s this book. It’s heartbreaking and inspiring and absolutely gorgeous.

Sometimes you get caught up in who you’re “supposed” to be, or the image you’re supposed to project, and you end up losing your authentic self—and your connection with those you love suffers because of it. In True Places, Suzanne’s life of quiet desperation is interrupted when a girl emerges from the forest right in front of her—a girl who’s never encountered civilization. As Suzanne takes this girl under her wing, she starts to question everything she has accepted as sacrosanct. In that, she stands in place of us all: caught in the rat race, longing for permission to cut through the crap and be who we are meant to be. The courage with which she faces the opposition of her family—and finds her way to a new, healthier relationship with them—is inspirational.

He describes the death of his partner from alcoholism and the events leading up to it in an unflinchingly honest and moving way. It's raw and personal but that's what grief is. It's beautiful and respectful and shows how grief is both a shared experience and so completely individual at the same time. 

Freefall deals with some really heavy issues facing a lot of young adults, and because this is one of the few books I’ve ever picked up where the hero is into rockabilly and physcobilly. He even plays a standup bass in a garage band. This book is also very age-appropriate, so it can be enjoyed by a wider audience than my books and some of my more grown-up recommendations.

I loved it because I felt like it dealt with the subject of depression and self-harm in a really relatable and compassionate way. I could feel the struggle of these kids through the pages. I also liked how it relayed that music can be healing no matter what genre the music may be.

I read this book as an adult and remember thinking that I wish I had something similar to read when I was younger. And as an adult, I… show more.

A really great short story collection can sweep you off your feet and take you to a lot of different places, in a way that novels can't quite manage. And Swamy's debut collection is haunting in the best possible way. These dreamlike stories feature characters who are lost and dislocated, carried along by other people's desires, and the best of them have something to say about art as well as relationships. In one story, an artist who is descending into alcoholism gets into a relationship with the god Krishna, and in another, a "laughter artist" has perfected her laughter to the point where all laughter seems artificial. Swamy conveys the feeling of being lost but seen, in a really beautiful, arresting way.

A beautiful story written beautifully. I was enamored with Miller’s deft use of lyrical prose set within an epistolary framework to tell the story of one man’s struggle against the demons of his past, and the consequences that followed, all in search of redemption.

Though fictional, Miller manages to avoid the usual veteran tropes in creating his character. It’s an intimate account—and one with which I’m intimately familiar—that feels truer than nonfiction. I’ve found few more realistic accounts of living with the moral injury that comes from our errors in judgment, how those errors cause unintended, though no less harmful, secondary effects on those we love, and how life remains yet salvageable.

I found it to be, at once, an inspiring, endearing, and threatening read.

This true story of love and lasting marriage in later life is told by the husband and wife in alternating first-person voices. Ingrained habits of social and personal life and relationships with both parents and children all create stumbling blocks as the two lovers strive to create a unified way of life. I admire this book for its frank and vivid presentation of the pitfalls that can threaten a union of two individuals who meet in late middle age, already well set on their paths. In its presentation of problems and solutions, this book offers the most “self-help” of these five recommendations.

Ruth Jones is a new author for me but she packs a punch with this family saga and story of four generations and their relationships.

I particularly identified with the matriarch and grandma (not that I am one!) in this, Grace, who is the all- seeing and all-knowing thread that knits the other family members together.

Told in mainly present day, the novel also time-slips back to the 60s to give another angle on the family dynamic – and dysfunction. One of the most outré of all the characters is Alys, a recovering alcoholic but some of the situations Jones has put her in will have you laughing.

I also love the minor character Soozi. Just read it to see what I mean.