Books like The Diaries of Franz Kafka

I’m sure there’s a lot of research about how people decide what book to read. I picked up this one because the cover was inky black, and the author was only identified as “Anonymous,” a pre-Internet version of clickbait!

However, I wasn’t disappointed as this book starkly chronicled a young woman’s descent into drug use through her diary entries. By reading a book presented in such a personal format, I really felt scared for the writer as she continually put herself in dangerous situations while her life spiraled out of control. I was also fascinated by some of the period details she provided, like detangling her just-shampooed hair with mayonnaise. I even tried that once!

Although “Anonymous” ended up being an adult writer, this book made me understand more about resilience and the power of redemption rather than the dangers of drug addiction, which, frankly, I had already learned in… show more.

This book captured me from start to finish. Like my book, this story is told in a gripping journal format. A meteor knocks the moon off its orbit and this causes catastrophic consequences on earth. Summer turns to a bitterly cold winter and Miranda and her two brothers and mother must figure out how they will survive in such harsh conditions. Having enough food to survive is a constant concern. This book helps us realize that when things get really awful, all that matters is food, water, staying warm, and remaining together as a family. All other concerns fall away. 

Being a Dracula fan, I was intrigued when I heard that Bloodline was its unofficial sequel. Bloodline is written in the form of journal entries and letters. While that isn’t my preferred writing style, it worked for this one. The story begins during World War I. The main character, John, sees some disturbing things concerning his regiment commander, Quincey. He doesn’t know why Quincey is so cruel but will understand in time. The mood was similar to the mood in Dracula. The vampire was the typical, evil vampire while the main character had to figure out what was going on and try to save the day. While not everything was resolved the way I wanted it to, I definitely enjoyed this novel and read the sequel also. I recommend it to people who like Dracula.

I love this book because I love imperfect, flawed heroines…and as a fifty-something woman, Nan spoke to me.

How many times do we think of running away—even if just for a bit—but responsibilities and maybe even fear keep us from acting? Not Nan—she takes off, simply leaving an abrupt note for her husband, Martin (which takes place before the book opens). The narrative alternates between letters to Martin and journal entries (Nan spills her thoughts into a turquoise leather tooled journal with a black string fastener and a silver button—I love that detail).

The lyrical descriptions of each place Nan visits are so vivid I felt like I was riding shotgun. And I loved taking that journey with Nan and living in her head, because honestly…being in her head felt a lot like being in my own head, flaws and all. 

The Bridget Jones series is amongst my all-time favourite reads. Bridget’s character has so many aspects that I can identify with, and so many of us experience insecurities about our looks, our talents and our love lives. The whole series is extremely entertaining, but there’s a specific part of The Edge of Reason that resonates with me: the fear I’ve always had when travelling, of ending up in police detention abroad through no fault of my own. It’s fabulously entertaining, but also thought-provoking.

Drawing from a year of entries in his running journal and writing beautiful, compressed prose, Gardner explores the relationship between the inner and the outer world of a runner. A veteran of the sport—he’s been at it for decades—and something like a disciple of its spiritual esoterica, he captures those running moments that so many of us struggle to articulate: “One of the reasons you slog through the summer is to be in shape when a day like this appears. A day when you step away from your body and take the body in, this gliding presence no longer yours, though once, you think, it might have been.” Poverty Creek Journal is a meditation on the profundities of a body in motion.

As a historian, I constantly try to get into the hearts and minds of people in the past.

For socialist East Germany, these diaries by the writer Brigitte Reimann let us see what it meant to be a woman in the GDR, to live and love, to build socialism, and then, in 1961, to see the Berlin Wall close off one’s world suddenly.

Elizabeth’s journey explores her early teen years with her tumultuous family, touching on her mother’s faint but tainted memory and her ailing father’s neglect, framed within the royal trappings.

This is a great book to share if you love British history and culture, and it gives a very interesting though somewhat tamed perspective of growing up in England during the reign of Henry VIII, all while placing the universal experiences of wanting to fit in, finding yourself the family outcast, and discovering the pains of politics.

Along with this series, Dear America and My Name is America series are all recommended as well. I have read many, if not all of them, and I’d like to read them with my kids, too.

I first met Anne Truitt when we were both guest artists at the Yaddo Colony in upstate NY. Later, we became good friends.

I admired not only her sculptures and paintings but also the three elegant and poignant published journals of an artist’s life. My favorite is the third published Journal, Turn.

Known as a superb artist and sculptor, Turn is Truitt’s third journal revealing the woman and journey of a true artist and unique individual. A husband’s suicide leaving the author and artist to raise three children and pursue her art, creates a unique memoir timeless in the chronicles of the resilience of single women artists.

Rose wrote the Albany column in The Sunday Telegraph and it is tempting to dismiss him as a gossip columnist who spread amusing and implausible stories about the bons mots of Princess Margaret. In fact, Rose was a more substantial person. He was interested in the British establishment but aware of himself as an outsider (partly because he was of Jewish origin). He was also, particularly during the early part of his career, an odd kind of modernizer – close to Tony Benn, whom he had known at university.