Books like Take My Hand — picked by fans

When I read this book as a young lawyer in reproductive rights in the 1990s, it resonated deeply with the daily bias that I witnessed against my clients. Decades later, a highlight of my book tour was being invited to do a talk with Professor Roberts at the Free Library of Philadelphia. Dorothy Roberts’ exploration of “race, reproduction and the meaning of liberty” is powerful.

Her writing clearly lays out how restrictions on abortion, parenting, and access to basic health care are shaped by and also perpetuate American racism. This book inspired me to work for equity and reproductive freedom for all, and hopefully, it will continue to do so for others, too. 

No one writes like Gayl Jones.

Her language, voice, and narrative style make her a singular entity all unto herself. Her first novel, Corregidora, explores the tumultuous life of a blues singer haunted by a dastardly familial trauma. When the novel opens, the protagonist, Ursa Corregidora, has just suffered a horrible accident that renders her unable to have children. 

What happens afterwards is a complex and raw exploration of lineage, darkness, and sexuality. It’s a haunting, relentless book. And it’s not hyperbole to say that it changed the course of black women’s literature.

The rest of us, trying to grapple with the intricacies of race & sex, are simply writing in her wake.

Schwartz’s book is a must-read for anyone who wants to understand how central black women’s reproduction was to the project of American slavery.

The book illustrates how new doctors needing specialization and clientele found common cause with slaveholders’ needs to control the reproductive capabilities of their enslaved workforce. The ongoing conflicts between slaveholders, enslaved women, and the doctors who were employed to thwart any attempts of resistance and autonomy on their part is truly mind-blowing.

Anyone tracking our current state of affairs post the Dobbs decision, with doctors in states like Texas being forced to choose between providing women necessary healthcare or complying with state law, can see the looming shadow of the history explored in Schwartz’s illuminating book.

This account of Smith’s lauded 35-year career as a midwife in rural Alabama is fascinating.

What I appreciate about this book most is how it maps out the growing tensions that developed between African-American lay midwives and the medical establishment, once the Department of Labor began to regulate midwifery practices in the early twentieth century.

From increased scrutinization and criminalization of folk traditions, like medicinal teas and oil massages, licensed midwives with clinical training found themselves hamstrung by increasing regulation, until they were pushed out of the field altogether in the late 1970s.

The vacuum of maternal healthcare left in their wake has been devastating. Such that, we’re still seeing repercussions to this day. 

This is a beautifully tragic coming-of-age novel. The daughter of the midwife was a fascinating character who had to make a tough ethical decision. This book blew me away, for the power of the story, the prose, the plot, and the surprise twist in the tale.

I think there’s a place in our culture for home births, and midwives are trained to assist with this. My granddaughter is a Birth Doula who is trained to have the hospital intervene should complications arise. This book opened my eyes to the prejudice against home births and the people who choose to have them.

The best aspect to love about this book is that a curious twenty-four-year-old law student not only does what others couldn’t do, solve the murders of two Supreme Court justices, but her doing so manages to put one of the world’s richest men on the run from federal officers and keep the president from running for reelection.

Grisham finds a way to give hope to all the amateur sleuths and conspiracy theorists in the world that they can crack the code that elite professionals who are trained to do so somehow cannot.

Remember Presumed Innocent? I remember finding it one of the most astonishing legal thrillers at the time. But the sequel Turow wrote after 23 years is the mother of all sequels.

Judge Rusty Sabich is suspected of murder yet again (wife, this time; it was his mistress in the previous one). Presumably, Rusty’s wife has died of a heart attack induced by one of her own medicines. Rusty is, once again, prosecuted by the same relentless prosecutor, Tommy, who has had a hard-on for Rusty since they were both prosecutors. He believes Rusty got away with murder the last time around. To add to Tommy’s anguish, Rusty hires the same devious and deceitful defense attorney, Sandy Stern.

 If you, like me, think that sequels are never as good, this one will change your opinion too.

The goodness of a person has always seemed inexplicable to me. Where does it come from? How is it able to persist? What is it that threatens to destroy it if it is indeed destructible? How can it possibly be maintained in the midst of an absurdly cruel, delusional, and hateful society like ours?

If some guy on the street asked me to explain the goodness of a person, I would recommend he read this book. It is a timely book, moreover, given the bizarrely justified harassment, arrest, imprisonment, and torture the newly elected President has promised his sad, seething, poorly informed, and historically entitled fan base.

I loved the way Scott Turow navigates the law and the courtroom in his fiction, and this novel especially.

Not only is this story a breathtaking page turner, it pins down the fine points of the law and behavioral nuances of the people who practice it.

This was one of the books that kept you up all night and then you found yourself wanting to read again—to find the trail of breadcrumbs you missed the first time through. Justice is served, just not as expected.

This book has so much to teach us about race and misconceptions. Faced with the decision of intervening to save a newborn baby’s life and the orders she’s been given not to touch the child of white supremacists, a NICU nurse, Ruth, hesitates for a moment then provides care. Her hesitation causes her to be charged with a serious crime. She is assigned a white public defender who wants to plead out and keep race out of the equation, but Ruth stands her ground. The women have to learn to trust each other and to find common ground. This is the most beautiful struggle about race from both perspectives that leaves you with a deeper understanding of both sides of the issue.