Books like The Bruising of Qilwa — picked by fans

What I enjoyed most about this book was the story and plot that the author wove together.

This story takes thrilling, unexpected twists that kept me engaged with the characters and the plot. Its intensity is matched by its excellent pacing, delivering surprises at every turn.

Just when I thought I'd figured out where it's headed, it veers in another direction.

Whenever people think of Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House springs to mind, and, for many years, I stopped right there. I was wrong.

In my opinion, We Have Always Lived in the Castle is actually a much better book – better in terms of plot and characterization. In telling the story of the decidedly disturbed and disturbing Blackwood family and their sinister home, Shirley Jackson explores small-town prejudice as well as the creeping impression that, while something awful has already happened, there is much worse to follow.

Merricat is a character I identified with. She is strong, determined, and a fighter. With the odds stacked so firmly against her, she needs to be. Jackson’s last novel is, for me at least, her greatest.

In January 2023, my partner dropped this book into my hands and said, “I’m pretty sure this book was written exactly for you.” And you know what? They were RIGHT.

This book isn’t just the Baba Yaga retelling of my dreams—it also features one of the most captivating sibling relationships I’ve ever read. Bellatine and Isaac Yaga are beautifully complicated characters, each unable to stop hurting the other as they manage their trauma in very different ways. (Hint: both of them involve very cool magic.)

I spent the book desperately wanting each of them to reach one another, and was gifted with a good, cathartic cry about intergenerational wounds. This story goes places that have challenged and transformed my own writing. Plus, a sentient house with a spicy attitude? Yes. More of that.

This book is a wonder of a collaboration between siblings Sofia Samatar and Del Samatar, and it has haunted me for years.

This collection is a surreal work of autobiography told through Sofia’s short fiction and Del’s illustrations, all featuring different monsters. These monstrous vignettes are interwoven with memories of growing up as multiracial Somali Americans in the 1980s—to me, they highlight the power of speculative fiction at its very best.

This book feels a little bit like reading someone’s journal, and a little bit like when I realize I’m dreaming but can’t wake myself up. The monsters mesmerized and unsettled me; the Graphis gives me shivers and the Collector of Treasures makes me feel ill. It’s a challenging read and one that I will come back to again and again.

Ristaino tells the story of one of the most remarkable men to ever live and work in Shanghai, Father Robert Jacquinot, a French Jesuit. I was deeply moved by his life’s story, one of great compassion for the Chinese and incredible courage. His story is known to very few outside China circles, but it is one that should be much better known. He saved literally thousands of Chinese lives through his work in disaster relief and standing up to the brutality of the Japanese military.

If you have ever been asked to name three or four people you would like to have dinner with…well Father Jacquinot is on my list.   

My final choice is a scintillating work of scholarship by Lyndsey Stonebridge, Professor of Humanities and Human Rights at the University of Birmingham. Entitled Placeless People: Writing, Rights, and Refugees, it draws upon a range of reportage, political theory, poetry, and other texts to ask challenging questions about the stance that modern states and citizens in Western societies adopt towards refugees who are sometimes described as distant strangers. By engaging with authors who are relatively well known, such as George Orwell, W.H. Auden, Simone Weil, Samuel Beckett, and the political philosopher Hannah Arendt, and with those who may be less familiar, such as the American journalist Dorothy Thompson (1893-1961) and the contemporary Palestinian Lebanese-born poet Yousif M. Qasmiyeh, Stonebridge insists that it is essential to portray refugees as deserving and demanding something other than charity or humanitarian concern no matter how well-intentioned. Instead, the appropriate response is to demand… show more.

A more recently released historical fiction account of a young girl’s loyalty and daring decisions on a North Sea island off the coast of Norway is The Klipfish Code. Published two years before my own book, I had not read it until a reviewer compared my debut book to this suspenseful story. I read it immediately, humbled by the comparison. Twelve-year-old Marit is living with her grandpa, who she resents for not actively protesting the German occupiers of their island. She’s outspoken, angry, and eager to support the resistance, despite his cautions and concerns. I was intrigued by this transition period in German policy. They traded propaganda and persuasion for coercion, including arresting one in ten teachers across the country, sending them to labor camps to make them agree to teach Nazi lies within the classroom. The terror of this little-known action compounds Marit’s struggle to decipher a code,… show more.

This graphic novel is gorgeous. It covers the story of a girl whose family has to escape Vietnam during the Fall of Saigon and make a new life in the United States.

The illustrations are beautiful, but the story is also beautifully told, showing the ways in which migration can affect family dynamics. It is about memory, sacrifice, trauma, and hope. It’s also a coming-of-age story. While there are a lot of great graphic novels about migration, this one is my favorite.

In 1939, Goldsmith’s grandfather and uncle were passengers on the St. Louis and hoped to receive asylum from the mounting threats of Nazi Germany. The St. Louis was turned away from Cuba, the United States, then Canada, and its passengers returned to Europe. In this book, Goldsmith recounted his six-week journey across Europe to retrace the final steps of his grandfather and uncle’s long and harrowing journey. It’s a powerful memoir that has stayed with me years after reading it.

This quiet, unsettling book was written over a decade ago but still feels so topical and urgent that it might have been published today. In a German city, dozens of African migrants living on the street stage a hunger strike for the right to work. Richard, a widowed academic in bored retirement goes to meet them, and gets involved.

I recalled my own impulses to activism and charity as a kid and now— my curiosity to understand other people's plight, compulsion to help, and perhaps guilt that, in comparison, my own problems are negligible.

Richard is motivated by morality, a search for meaning, and a desire for connection and shared action. I've been there, too, and like him, I've learned that friendships can sour and good intentions go wrong.