28 Books Like The Dry Season

THE RIVER'S DAUGHTER is both fast-paced and deep, a true adventure. Bridget Crocker's evocative but rather-impossible childhood had me on the edge of my seat, and her path towards a greater personal power felt resonant and moving. I loved THE RIVER'S DAUGHTER's unique, gripping look into the white-water rafting world of the Zambezi River in Zambia/Zimbabwe, which--more than being just an adrenaline story--incorporated issues of race, gender, and violence in impactful ways. Bridget Crocker's spiritual relationship to rivers deepened this book immeasurably, and I admired her unselfconscious ability to write these parts. Finally, I was impressed by Crocker's ability to show readers how impossible it can be for young women to avoid sexual assault in a culture in which men constantly (and incorrectly) conflate their desire for someone with a *right* to what they want. I read this book in a single gulp. If you're looking for an unconventional memoir… show more.

In POETS SQUARE CATS, Courtney Gustafson takes us inside a world few of us already know about. The cats themselves are cute, entertaining, and heartbreaking, but what got under my skin is the way Gustafson uses the world of feral cats to show us insights about current American culture, including issues like loneliness and friendship/community, gender-based violence, reproductive rights, food insecurity, and our relationship to unhoused folks. This book may not be what you think when you pick it up, but that's because it's SO MUCH MORE. Run, don't walk to read this unputdownable memoir.

Although we have very different voices and approaches to a similar question, ‘How do society and our patriarchal conditioning warp our girlhood?’, we write about it in very different voices and from a different perspective.

I read her to hear what another girl/woman who felt the same pressure was able to express and move on from. Interestingly, I grew up and seemed at home as an escort, and in another of her memoirs, Ms. Febos became, for a time, a dominatrix. I found that fascinating as well.

Melissa Febos’ book Body Work provides encouragement to writers who are considering the memoir genre by highlighting the importance of storytelling as central to human experience. 

Memoir writing is like magic; unique in its ability to shine a light on stories of survival, perseverance, and resilience. Febos’ book beautifully portrays the power of memoir as a tool to prompt growth, pulling back façades in ways that are both personally empowering and enriching for readers and writers alike.

“We are telling the stories that no one else can tell, and we are giving this proof of our survival to each other.” (p. 27)

Walls’ recounts her unconventional childhood marked by poverty, instability, and the eccentric choices of her parents.

The memoir offers an unflinching but often tender portrait of a deeply flawed family and the complicated bonds of love and loyalty. Walls’s voice is both clear-eyed and compassionate as she revisits her past.

Wanting to make sense of my own dysfunctional family, I reread this book several times.

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.  

This book is a blast to read and also packed with insight (the Holy Grail, no?) It’s a collection of short chapters on a wide range of questions that either a baby or seasoned memoirist might ask. How do I find my voice? How do I organize my material? Am I betraying my family? (When Karr asked her own mom if she minded being outed as a knife-wielding alcoholic who set her children’s toys on fire, Mrs. Karr apparently replied: “Oh hell, the whole town knew about that.”) Karr draws on her extensive experience as a best-selling memoirist and teacher of memoir, serving up hard-won wisdom and concrete practical advice. Reading The Art of Memoir is like trapping a celebrity genius in a hotel bar and getting the unvarnished version. You’ll love it.

Among many wonderful things about this book, I consider it a climate novel and a climate justice story in particular. Hurricane Katrina wipes out a Black working-class family who are flooded out of their house. I was deeply attached to the narrator, the teen daughter in the story, and I loved her even more for having hope that things could change. 

Yuknavitch's prose is less a narrative and more a visceral experience. Reading it is like being caught in a riptide—disorienting, intense, and ultimately exhilarating. Her exploration of grief, sexuality, and survival doesn’t just skim the surface; it dives deep into the murky waters of human existence.

The raw honesty of her writing is both brutal and beautiful, making you feel like you’ve been handed the author’s very soul—scuffed, scarred, and utterly captivating.

This lyrical, book-length essay is a meditation not so much on a diagnosis as on one of its most visible expressions—tears. Exploring depression through the lens of the phenomenon of crying, The Crying Book is loaded with facts both esoteric and banal. Yet it is also deeply personalized by author Heather Christle’s reflections on her own struggles with depressive episodes, as well as on the deaths of other poets to suicide, and the allure and danger of romanticizing such acts. Christle’s loose, fragmentary approach gives her the freedom to wander far and wide as she considers the art and act of crying, allowing depression to surface as an experience that is at once individual and deeply embedded in its cultural and historical contexts.