Books like The Lost Child — picked by fans

Like many people, I’d heard so much about this classic that I was braced for disappointment the first time I read it.

But no, du Maurier’s rich, atmospheric prose gripped me from that famous first line. While I agree about the power of the iconic cast, such as the infamous Mrs. Danvers, I feel that the setting itself is just as powerful a character. I especially love du Maurier’s way of personifying the setting, so that things such as trees, and plants, and buildings come alive with malevolence.

The opening pages, for example, immediately fill you with unease despite the narrator talking about nothing more than the driveway leading up to the house on the estate! From the woods that “crowded, dark and uncontrolled” and the beeches with “white naked limbs” to the hydrangeas “rearing to a monster height without a bloom, black and ugly” and the nettles that “choked… show more.

Another incredible rewriting of Wuthering Heights and one that’s as dark and Gothic as Emily’s momentous original. In Ill Will, Michael Stewart picks up Emily’s narrative at the point when Heathcliff, having heard Cathy declare that it would degrade her to marry him, departs the Heights. Stewart unravels the tale of where Heathcliff went during the three years that he was missing from Cathy’s world and imagines what happened to him to make him return in such a vengeful guise. Ill Will is also a rewriting that takes up the issue of race, for here, Heathcliff is a young black man and his departure from the Heights prompts him to trace Mr. Earnshaw’s walk to Liverpool in the hope of finding out who he is. 

This is probably the most powerful example of literary pastiche novels I’ve read, not just because it takes on one of the most beloved novels in English literature—Jane Eyre—but because it brutally turns that novel’s premises on their gentrified heads.

I am truly awed by how vibrantly Rhys inhabits Antoinette, Rochester’s doomed wife, weaving in themes of colonialism and gendered power into Charlotte Brontë’s Gothic romance and, in the process, making it a kind of subversive and gritty feminist and anti-colonial manifesto.

Rhys’s depiction of Antoinette’s descent into madness is so visceral and believable that you are (or at least I am) all but cheering as she literally burns the patriarchy to the ground. I also love that while it’s generally considered Rhys’s masterpiece, she wrote it in her seventies. 

Tracy Chevalier edited this incredible anthology of short fiction to mark the bicentenary of Charlotte Brontë’s birth. Comprising contributions from sixteen authors, including Helen Dunmore, Sally Vickers, Susan Hill, Emma Donoghue, and Audrey Niffenegger, among others, these incredible stories are far more than fan fiction. Indeed, while the anthology’s title is the infamous first line of the final chapter of Charlotte Brontë’s novel, don’t be fooled into thinking that this is a romantic collection, for Chevalier’s contributors may take inspiration from Jane Eyre, but they rework it in a huge variety of ways, producing stories that unsettle as much as they celebrate Brontë’s novel. And if you like that, the companion volume, I Am Heathcliff edited by Kate Mosse, operates in the same spirit but is dedicated to Wuthering Heights.

Sometimes you get caught up in who you’re “supposed” to be, or the image you’re supposed to project, and you end up losing your authentic self—and your connection with those you love suffers because of it. In True Places, Suzanne’s life of quiet desperation is interrupted when a girl emerges from the forest right in front of her—a girl who’s never encountered civilization. As Suzanne takes this girl under her wing, she starts to question everything she has accepted as sacrosanct. In that, she stands in place of us all: caught in the rat race, longing for permission to cut through the crap and be who we are meant to be. The courage with which she faces the opposition of her family—and finds her way to a new, healthier relationship with them—is inspirational.

So, first off, this is one of the best audiobooks of all time. While Scott did an amazing job spinning the tale, Michael Page elevated this work to a whole new level. There was a time around 2010 when fantasy became overly serious and dark. And I was rescued by the Gentlemen Bastards which was fast paced, fun, and fabulous. The absolute best part of this book is its humor, something that is sorely missing in fantasy these days.

Of course the stars of the show are Locke and Jean. Locke is a charismatic, cunning cutthroat and Jean is his loyal right-hand man. Together they make a great pair. Their deep, brotherly friendship and unwavering loyalty to each other is fantastic, and the reason they made my list.

Set in 1875 London, this children’s novel tells the story of a hungry, overworked girl who labors as a chimney sweep and the golem made of soot who cares for her.

I adore the idea of a soot golem as a caregiver and someone to care for. And don’t we all need to love and be loved, even though it can feel scary and risky at times? This story made me want my own soot monster. 

Newberry Honor book winner Gail Carson Levine beautifully captures the life of eleven-year-old Dave, a troublemaking orphan in 1926, and his time in New York’s Hebrew Home for Boys.

When I years ago read this book to my son, who was abut Dave’s age, both of us became enthralled with not only the vivid description of the sometimes tough and rigid orphanage in the Lower East Side, but also Dave’s late-night adventures into the beautiful music and among the kind strangers and leading figures of the Harlem Renaissance.

Loosely based on her father’s time in New York’s Hebrew Orphan Asylum, Levine opens a window and lets us hear the Yiddish sounds and lets us peak into the early twentieth-century world of Jewish orphanages, while also celebrating the boisterous joys of friendship with unlikely partners.

Willow is such an important novel for any teen who has gone through a traumatic event.

Willow, a 17-year-old girl is dealing with grief over the death of her parents and the fact that she was driving the car that killed them. She’s had to leave behind her old home, friends, and school. But Willow has found a way to survive, to numb the new reality of her life, she is secretly cutting herself.

For every teen that has either cut themselves, drank to numb the pain, starved themselves, or done any sort of self-harm in order to protect themselves from their inward pain, this book is for you. Not only is this story about grief and guilt, but it is also about love and never giving up.

From the first page, Fatimah Asghar’s writing pulled me in. It is poetic, playful, and vulnerable.

The story is about three orphaned sisters living under the care of their uncle and figuring out how to relate to each other and the world. I loved the candid explorations of childhood, gender, and, most of all, sisterhood.