100 Books Like The Habit

I’ve long felt more powerful, confident, and chic wearing a well-cut suit. But why? Sex and Suits expressed and explained my own vague intuitions about the power of significance of clothing. Hollander explains that the suit is perhaps the most ubiquitous symbol of modernity. Discussing the evolution of fashion—particularly men’s fashion—she shows how the suit is both a practical, streamlined, and unassuming garment and the ultimate status symbol.

Stylin’ tells the history of African American fashion and style. As a Black man, I have always loved the unique style of the Black community and noticed how trends that start with Black people have consistently become central to American culture. This book explains why this is; how black culture evolved in conversation and conflict with the dominant culture of white America. But it doesn’t devolve into stereotypes or typical, simplistic observations. Black style is the blues, jazz, the cakewalk but it is also refined elegance and a knowing commentary on European culture.  

This is really just an essay, but it is one of the most insightful documents on fashion ever written. It asks a deceptively simple question: why have modern men rejected the fashionable adornment, finery, and splendor that was once the hallmark of all high-status clothing, masculine and feminine. The psychologist and dress reformer John Carl Flugel attributes the change in masculine fashion in the 18th century to a change in social and political ideals. The Enlightenment and the political revolutions against the old regimes of Europe inspired a new, modern wardrobe for men: sober, practical, unassuming. Flashy clothing was then associated with discredited aristocratic—and feminine—vanity.  

Written by the great French semiotician, this book applies the semiotic method to symbolism of fashion.  People often say that fashion is like a language, but Barthes actually explains precisely how it symbolizes. He explains how fashion is a symbolic system that includes not only clothing itself, but also representations of clothing in text and image, fashion magazines, films, and other depictions that anchor the meaning of sartorial symbols.  

I love fictional reimaginings of actual crimes, and the obvious choice within such a category is Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace, but Elizabeth Haynes’ book might be one that’s slipped under your radar.

In 1843 Harriet Monckton was found murdered from prussic acid. She was just 23 years old, and six months pregnant. Haynes presents a compelling portrait of Harriet’s final hours, seen through the eyes of several suspects, each of whom wants her dead.

It’s not just a gripping narrative, it’s a meticulously-researched insight into Victorian life, and just how difficult it could be for a young woman.

From the back cover: "Drawing on her experience as a teacher in the Catholic school system, a former nun, and an outspoken advocate of women's equality, Joanna Manning powerfully articulates how John Paul's views on women are not only a disaster for the Catholic Church, but are also a threat to the well-being of all women, regardless of belief." Well-put. (I imagine there are, and if not, there should be, at least one of these books for each religion/sect... Certainly the Jewish and the Islamic religions are misogynistic as well...)

I love this story because it portrays people choosing to die to themselves in order to live for God.

These Benedictine sisters are not running away from the world. Each woman faces her past, present, and future through the lens of devotion to God. Centering their lives around worship has cost them dearly but, as I read, I began to grasp its worth with greater clarity. I’ve seen myself that believers in Christ who die to themselves, paradoxically, seem more alive.

This House of Brede made me reflect on the concept of losing your life to save it. It reminded me that losing my life is tragically inevitable, but saving it is gloriously possible.

Gah! Virgins! I should mention that this book was actually written in the 80s and flashes back to the 50s, but in the spirit of this list (and simply because I flipping love it), I’m including it here. Peggy and Sean are two good little Catholic teens navigating their senior year of high school. Sean is slated to enter the priesthood upon graduation, testing the limits of the pair’s carnal restraint in the final days of their relationship. I don’t think there’s a book in the world that has influenced my storytelling more than this one. It’s hot, hilarious, and heartbreaking… and pretty much serves as the blueprint for my own book. Highly recommend.

I sort of always knew that the tortuous line of Catholic popes was a road of corruption, war, treachery, conquest, and gathering of secular and sectarian power.

When I started reading this book, my preconceptions were severely beaten. The history of papal rule turned out to be far more bloody. What disturbed me greatly, something I should not have found surprising is that this process is happening even today. I could have dismissed this work as simply another anti-Christian smear campaign were it not for the solid research and undeniable supporting facts. I had to accept the veracity of what I read, understanding why the Church never adopted the concept of separation of powers. To do so would mean its destruction. What to do? More research, of course.

There are a bazillion romances about good girls attracted to bad boys.

Here’s one about a good girl attracted to a good guy, but neither of them can seem to get past his bad boy past. It’s easy to give lip service to redemption – sure, people change! But to build a life on that change? That’s another thing.

There’s a lot of forced proximity in West Castle that helps bring Caitlyn, our good girl (who has her own flaws), and Jared, our bad boy (who is trying so hard to be a better man), together. The romantic tension kept me reading through to the end!