Books like The Life of the Mind

This 1965 novel by English author Margaret Drabble follows protagonist and PhD student Rosamund as she becomes a single mother.

Educated, upper-middle-class Rosamund narrates with a quintessentially British and—for me—highly enjoyable blend of primness and humor. Fascinatingly and somewhat frustratingly, Rosamund keeps her pregnancy a secret from her daughter Octavia’s father, even after Octavia is born. She’s like a strange English Virgin Mary who studies Elizabethan sonnets and really doesn’t want to “put anyone out”.

Her story also offers an interesting glimpse into class issues in 1960s London and the way that experiences of pregnancy and motherhood can both transcend and accentuate class divisions.

Heti’s heady, meditative, heavily autobiographical novel documents its narrator’s personal ambivalence about the idea of motherhood.

While this is not a conventional novel with a linear plot, it is a gorgeously written reflection on what motherhood means, or could mean, in general and to our narrator in particular. With unflinching honesty, she explores not only the question of whether or not she wants a child of her own, but also her identity as her mother’s child and her position as a descendant of Holocaust survivors.

I found so much to relate to in these pages; I often set out to underline a sentence and ended up underlining an entire page, feeling like Heti had put her finger on something I’d experienced but had never articulated so well.

Kristen is a friend of mine, and I felt a strong sense of kinship to her work not only because I admire her personally but also because it deals with so many of my novel’s own themes—grief, family, unplanned pregnancy.

Motherest’s main character, Agnes, is a college student who describes her life on campus, her pregnancy, and the loss of her beloved brother through a combination of traditional narration and a series of letters written with increasing urgency to her absent mom. Agnes’s voice and letters are both hilarious and heartbreaking. Every once in a while, you meet a character who you miss when their story ends—for me, Agnes is one of them.

This blunt and surprising short novel is translated from Italian by Ann Goldstein and narrated by Leda, a middle-aged divorcee, professor of comparative literature, and self-identified “unnatural mother” who becomes infatuated with a younger mother she meets at the beach while vacationing alone. It’s an engrossing yet uncomfortable read; Leda’s descriptions of her maternal ambivalence are unnervingly yet refreshingly candid and often dark.

Readers who are prone to categorizing characters as “likable” or “unlikeable” will probably put Leda in the latter category, but one of the things I love most about Ferrante’s work is the way she explodes those categories, not focusing on the rightness or wrongness of her characters but rather honoring their complexity with brutal honesty.

Barbara is a deliciously deceptive, vicious character wrapped in a seemingly mild-mannered 60-year-old woman. I loved how she both hated being overlooked and used her almost invisibility as an older woman, taking advantage of it to manipulate the object of her obsession–the foolish Sheba. When Sheba, a teacher, embarks on an affair with a pupil, it’s the opportunity Barbara has been waiting for. 

Reading this book is a little like the cliché about watching a car crash in slow motion because there is an undeniable inevitability about Sheba’s fall from grace and destruction. Yet I couldn’t look away; I was too fascinated. Ultimately, they are two characters who are unpleasant in their unique ways, but they create an irresistible story when combined.

I grew up in rural Ireland, so not exactly the gritty urban Scotland of Welsh’s novel, but the first thing that struck me about the book was its savage, semi-feral, intensely real Scottish dialect. I’d never seen anything quite like it in print.

The prose feels almost illegal, a ne’er-do-well that has simply decided to break into the publishing house and force its way onto the page without anyone’s permission. I didn’t consciously plan to steal this technique for my own novel, but how could I not endorse it?

Welsh has written more explicitly psychedelic works, but this book remains for me his masterwork, underscoring how, in many ways, his protagonist Renton’s life is at its weirdest when he tries to get sober.  

A huge departure from the previous books on this list, this book is a full-on thrill ride with one of the coolest narrative devices I’ve ever seen: A woman on death row narrates her supposed cross-country killing spree to a horror author who’s interested in adapting her life story.

She’s a fascinating woman, telling her story in a way that constantly challenged me to figure out what parts of her on-the-run narrative are real. She’s surprisingly sympathetic, even when she’s doing awful things.

I devoured this book in one sitting and haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

The opening scene in this first in the series is one of the funniest I’ve ever read. I also like the character of “Izzy” Spellman, a twelve-year-old with attitude issues and a need to prove herself.

Although their dysfunctional family would drive me crazy if I were a part of it, I find the Spellman Investigations the perfect vehicle for occasionally dark humor and twisted plots.

You guessed it, this book is about a mom struggling with alcoholism. I read this book early in my sobriety, and I felt like I got punched in the ribs, but in a good way. It was the first time I’d heard this level of honesty from a parent about drinking, even though the book is a work of fiction.

The author is sober, so she knows what she’s talking about. After reading this book, I gobbled up everything else she’s written, and the other books don’t disappoint.

No one has taught me more about life than Terry Pratchett. No one has taught me how to wrestle with my demons (both literal and metaphorical) or how to be a better person no matter what fate befalls me. Humanists don’t need a bible, but if they did, the collected works of Terry Pratchett would be that book.

More than just fantasy, humor, or satire, his words work at a profound and subtle level. All of his books are favorites of mine, but this one is my most favorite of all. It’s a book about witches and magic and fairy tales. It’s also a story that contains stories within stories, but most of all, it’s a book about knowing who you are.