100 Books Like The Light of the World

Faithful to its title, this brilliant book starts with the body — an unspeakable injury to the narrator’s body, a crime, a horror. Bernard writes with a specificity that is gut-wrenching without being sensational. And all along, running alongside the sensory language is the author’s intellectual river, constantly washing over and over a moment, a scene, a feeling, a thought. This book includes twelve interconnected essays, each building on the other despite how many years – and miles – separate them.

Brenda Miller, a former professor of mine, was one of the first people whose work opened up for me the endless possibilities in creative nonfiction and memoir. Season of the Body is a sumptuous collection of lyric essays that can teach the close reader how to come at a subject “sideways”. A flash essay offered by Creative Nonfiction magazine had a subtitle that reminds me of the genius of Miller’s book, “Distill experiences, big or small, into their purest essence.” Whether she’s writing about heartbreak or meditation, Miller’s poetic attention to detail and philosophical tone act as distiller.

I have not read a book like Melissa Valentine's The Names of All the Flowers, which is a beautiful, painful, and exquisitely written narrative about her brother Junior, who was gunned down on the streets of Oakland when he was 19. "Say his name, say her name," we chant when yet another one of our brothers or sisters is killed. In this memoir, Valentine gives us not only Junior's name but an intimate look into his head, his heart, his fears, his dreams, his joy.

Terese Marie Mailhot’s raw account of her traumatic childhood and its enduring consequences took my breath away. A nearly lifelong Alaskan, I am acutely aware of the social problems afflicting Indigenous communities; in fact, I’ve done research on the topic.

Yet, I have never read a more honest, painful, and beautifully written testimonial by an Indigenous person about her experience with childhood poverty and neglect, substance abuse in the home, sexual abuse, and resulting poor self-esteem and self-doubt. Mailhot, who was raised on Seabird Island in British Columbia, began writing her memoir as mental health therapy and it became a process of self-discovery.

Her experience highlights the effects of historical trauma on Indigenous individuals and communities, as well as the prevalence of maltreatment of Indigenous women. 

The useful thing about this book is that it breaks down the different types of losses we can experience and examines those. Sibling loss, parental loss, loss of a child, etc. You can connect to your type of grief and learn specifics about how to manage it. It is also filled with compassion and wisdom from one of the grief experts in the world. 

This book taught me that I don’t always have to show up “right” or “well.” I can just show up, and that is often enough–to death or any other difficult situation. I walked away from this book with the assurance that there is no way to fully prepare for death because every person is different, every death is different and grief is a bit of a trickster (you never know how it's going to show up).

The mix of personal stories and practical direction has lasted with me over the years and is now a part of how I hold space as a friend, family member, coach, spiritual guide, lover, and partner in life and death. 

At some time in our lives, we all go through losing a loved one. I was introduced to this book after my mother died. I love the honesty of what others would say and the grace suggested to get through difficult seasons. Don’t be fooled that this is just a story to comfort.

This book helps you do the heart work to understand your feelings. I love the timeline and the fact that recovery is the main point of this book. It’s not you hiding behind work, school, or substances. It helps you see the triggers and gives you tools to actually recover. 

This book is the first one I read after losing my husband. I was 31-years old, with a toddler and a newborn, and I had no idea how I was going to survive the rest of my life, better yet make it a life worth living. In The Sun Still Rises: Surviving and Thriving After Grief and Loss, author Shawn Doyle shares his story of loss, but more than that he shares hope with his reader. Hope that there is still light in the darkness of grief. At that point in my loss, hope was what I needed most. However, he didn't stop there, he also provided practical tips and suggestions about dealing with both the logistical matters that come with loss, as well as providing emotional support. This book helped me live my best life, in spite of my loss.

Like many beautiful memoirs on grief and loss, Campbell tells the story of the catastrophic death of his two teenage children and the ways he and his wife lived through what seems unsurvivable.

But he doesn’t stop there, instead turning what he learned in his darkest times into a guide for grievers. Upending the common wisdom that “we all grieve differently,” he asserts that there are commonalities in grief that can serve as a guide for those walking through their most difficult days.

Finding the Words is organized into chapters addressing central issues in grief, including fear, pain, and guilt, but also community, ritual, and finally, meaning and purpose.

This is the book I wish I’d had when my grief was new. I’m grateful it's in the world.

While books that hit death right on the nose can be a meaningful resource for kids, sometimes stories with a softer touch are what meets the moment.

That’s where the magic of this book comes in. A kid and his grandpa go on one final adventure together to a magical world of their making before the Grandad decides to stay, sending Syd back to the real world alone.

This whimsical storytelling leaves me with that exact right feeling of wonder and heartache that comes with an honest grappling with death. It’s that emotional center that allowed our kids to sit with their own questions: where did Grandad go? Why couldn’t the boy stay there, too? Will they see each other again? Getting to explore these questions in the light instead of keeping them anxiously buried under the surface has been a real gift for our crew.