Books like The Art of Fielding — picked by fans

I earned my teaching certification as an undergraduate. I went to a program in a very rural place, and I did my student teaching in a very rural school—but all we talked about in my college classes were urban schools, urban kids, and urban teachers. There were certainly some similarities, but I was amazed how research, policy, and practice just seemed to overlook rural education (about one-quarter of all U.S. public schools!). So I went into rural education research and advocacy wanting to do something about that gap: to bring attention to rural education so that we can write policies and practices that sustain, rather than undermine, rural schools and communities.

Growing up in the Middle East, I’ve met all kinds of moral ambiguity. There’s a lot to say about it. How both sides think they’re right, how the ends justify the means and all that. Then there are the consequences. Even the winners often lose things. So I’ve set out to write about grey characters! About people who do bad things for the greater good, and how their life turns up after. And if you like the trope as much as I do, check the recs!

I have always been drawn to stories about identity and belonging, not just because of my own journey, but because of how powerful stories can be in helping us understand each other. Growing up between cultures, I often found myself searching for where I fit. Books played a big role in that. They gave me perspective, comfort, and sometimes just the reassurance that I was not alone in feeling that way. That is why these stories matter to me. They help people feel seen, and in doing so, help them understand others in a deeper and more human way.

As a troubled teen who wasn’t raised in a traditional family environment, I had always gravitated toward books with transformative characters—underdogs who were lost or lost their way by accident and on purpose.

The genre never mattered to me as much as my ability to relate to struggling protagonists who needed to escape their situation or environment, regardless of what they had to do, right or wrong. Love them or loathe them, I learned something from each of them. I hope you enjoy their journeys as much as I have.

I was born into a household that loved sports. My brother was a track star, and I was his Tomboy little sister who eagerly took his old shirts and jackets and wore them proudly. I played hard myself, and even dabbled in sports reporting as a journalist. I’ve always found the stories behind the sport to be the richest part, though. I love the characters—real or fiction. Every person on a field, on the court, on the ice, in the water, has a story to tell. I think that same sense goes for small towns too, and so I gravitate to books that blend the two. Now, if you can throw in a love story, I say that’s a trifecta!

I’m passionate about this theme because I grew up inside the kind of silence most people never see—the kind shaped by responsibility, fear, love, and the need to stay strong before you’re old enough to understand why. I’ve lived through the quiet wounds, the invisible burdens, and the unspoken grief that shaped every part of me. Stories like these make people like me feel less alone. They remind us that survival has its own language, and that the things we carry silently are worth naming. I write about quiet pain because it’s the world I came from, and the world I learned to rise out of.

After completing the first draft of Monday Rent Boy, I was taken aback to discover a common theme running through all of my books: a focus on children in adverse situations. A Secret Music. The Ghost Garden. And now Monday Rent Boy. What holds paramount importance for me… is tracing the trajectory of the injured child as he or she navigates the journey toward adulthood…And…what does that path look like… what are the factors that help a person rise versus the ones that crush another? The more urgent answer to the question of why write? I came to see that certain subjects need to be written. And hopefully, read. 

I am a writer who was first a reader and am convinced that novels can speak profound truth. They’ve helped me too many times to believe otherwise. I write novels about how we unwind from painful pasts to create new and better lives. In my experience, that requires us to face difficult truths and choose to be different until we are. I write fiction because I can begin with something awful, cut out boring detours that didn’t matter, and get my honorable and well-intentioned characters to happy endings faster than I’ve gotten to mine. These books map similar journeys, and all have left me better off for having read them.

I’ve played the game of baseball, rooted for its teams, and even written a book about baseball (and the protagonist in my novels is a baseball nut), so I’m more than a casual observer of the sport. I’ve read more than two hundred baseball books–fiction and non-fiction–in my life. As such it was nearly impossible to come up with my top five books on the sport. I’m recommending these five because they transcend the subject of baseball, exploring universal themes with exemplary writing that evokes deep feelings within the reader. Whether you like baseball or not, if you love fine writing you can’t go wrong with any of these works. 

I’ve played the game of baseball, rooted for its teams, and even written a book about baseball (and the protagonist in my novels is a baseball nut), so I’m more than a casual observer of the sport. I’ve read more than two hundred baseball books–fiction and non-fiction–in my life. As such it was nearly impossible to come up with my top five books on the sport. I’m recommending these five because they transcend the subject of baseball, exploring universal themes with exemplary writing that evokes deep feelings within the reader. Whether you like baseball or not, if you love fine writing you can’t go wrong with any of these works.