Books like The Awakening — picked by fans

Anne Shirley is a perfectly imperfect heroine, and that’s why I love her. She’s creative and imaginative and gets so lost in her daydreams that she can forget the flour in a cake or to cover leftover pudding, leaving easy access for a peckish mouse. Her temper matches her red hair, and she refuses to let anyone insult her dignity. She dreams of meeting kindred spirits—those individuals you just click with.

Although I first discovered Anne as a teen, I’ve returned to her throughout my life, and at each stage, she’s there like an old friend. The best part of knowing Anne has been meeting kindred spirits from all around the globe who share their own stories of reading and loving Anne.  

I first read Lolita when I was 14 and have read it every few decades since, learning something new each time.

I love the first-person immediacy of it and the way it is a crime novel in reverse: the narrator is already imprisoned but not for the crime he describes. It is a love story turned on its head: what the narrator says is love is in fact abuse.

It is a road trip across the vastness of the US, like one I took when I was a student.

I cannot say enough about this book. I’m a huge fan of anything written by Buck, but this is probably my favorite, primarily for the empowering feminist themes. I love how Buck allows the characters in this story to interact with one another in ways that are subtle but powerful.

This book invites readers to come along with the main character, Madame Wu, as she challenges a rigid set of societal expectations with a clarity that is as unapologetic as it is downright refreshing. Humans are complex creatures, capable of a full range of desires and thinking, and I love it when writers explore this deeply.

It’s devastating to reconcile a world that could treat anyone, especially children, the way Pecola Breedlove is treated in The Bluest Eye. The cruelty of racism and oppression, both historical and ongoing, feels unbearable to confront. The idea that worth, beauty, and love could be tied to a single, narrow ideal is profoundly heartbreaking. I want to reach through the pages, take Pecola in my arms, and tell her she is beautiful, that her self-worth is inherent, and free her from the horrors she endures.

Throughout the book, I yearn for someone in her world to lift her up, hold her, and tell her it will be okay. But they, too, are trapped in cycles of pain and suffering. Morrison’s writing is unflinchingly honest and achingly beautiful, taking me to a raw, vulnerable place where pain demands confrontation.

This book captures the depth of human experience, reminding me that… show more.

This book by Nathaniel Hawthorne, published in 1850, is considered an American classic.

I think Hawthorne wrote this story as an attempt to understand the witchcraft frenzy of 1692 without bringing up what was still a painful topic. He was a lifelong resident of Salem, Massachusetts. His great-great-grandfather, John Hathorne, was one of the magistrates overseeing the trials. I think Hawthorne wondered how an educated magistrate could be complicit in such events, and The Scarlet Letter was his answer.

The story focuses on prejudice rather than witchcraft, but the themes of humiliation, fear, and social ostracism parallel the witchcraft frenzy. Hawthorne wrote The Scarlet Letter over a hundred years after the Salem Witch Trials, but their impact could still be felt.

The masculine voice in this novel is absolutely masterful. It’s tender, nuanced, earnest, and intelligent. Stegner offers a sweeping, unflinching story about friendships, marriage, the human ego, and the passage of time with a set of characters who are flawed, fragile, and therefore, very believable.

I’ve read this book more than once, and discover something new and lovely each time. This book honors a reader’s intelligence and heart. Again, the complexity in the characters and how they relate to one another gets me every time.  

I just love this book, and frankly, everything Anne Tyler writes. Her stories are always driven by characters who are just delicious in their complexity.

Being drawn into these characters as their complex relationships evolve is what I find most satisfying about all of Tyler’s work. The characters are quirky, but believable; complicated, but lovable. Tyler is a master at character development. 

I love the strong, authentic female voice and the sheer craft of Shreve’s writing style. Honestly, I felt like I’d just eaten a piece of cake when I finished reading this book the first time, and I’ve definitely gone back for seconds and thirds. Each time I’ve reread this book, I find another beautiful facet to appreciate.

The pacing of the storytelling is exceptional, and Shreve doesn’t flinch from describing visceral scenes that are essential to the story. I love how much you need all five of your senses to read this story. This book was my first introduction to this writer, and I’ve read everything of hers that I can get my hands on. 

I love this book because Edna Pontellier is perhaps the original flawed yet sympathetic heroine—a character ahead of her time and a symbol of the growing stirrings of feminism.

I underlined many passages in my dog-eared copy from college (my professor was the editor), including the line, “Mrs. Pontellier was not a mother-woman,” a contrast with the other mothers summering on Grand Isle who doted on their children. She’s not what a woman and mother was supposed to be in 1899—she’s in love with a man other than her husband; she eschews the trappings of motherhood; and ultimately she escapes in the most heartbreaking way.

This book was so explosive at the time, that it was pulled from shelves and didn’t enjoy success and a rightful place in the literary cannon until it was reissued in 1966. There’s a reason it’s had a treasured place on my bookshelf for nearly… show more.

Though a seventh-generation Louisianian, I was born and raised in the northern portion of the state. When I decided to write about early New Orleans, I realized deep research would be required. The first book my local librarian recommended was Saxon’s Fabulous New Orleans.

I was enthralled, not least because I discovered he was also not a native of the city, though he lived in the French Quarter for many years and was instrumental in preserving many of its historic buildings from demolition.

With a style that immediately draws you in, this book is filled with pageantry and grandeur, personality, and rich detail, which makes researching the Vieux Carré a pleasure rather than a chore.