Books like The Madonnas of Leningrad — picked by fans

I found this book of utter fascination. I read it twice.

The author’s character and reactions to the ravages of war resemble, to some extent, my aunt’s own behaviour. Stoicism, pragmatism, just getting on with it. Whether German or British, this generation of women had a strength and confidence that I breathlessly admire.

Whilst Berlin at the end of the war was very different from Manchester, there are definite shared experiences and thoughts.

The title of this book really intrigued me. That, and the fact that the author had died very shortly after completing the novel, requesting her friend to see it through its journey, meant I felt compelled to read it.

The other hook for me was that the story is set in Guernsey, an island I have visited and where I was aware there had been a great deal of deprivation in WWII. I wasn’t disappointed. I loved the wit, the cast of wonderful characters, and the story that developed from a chance correspondence.

Though this book was first published in 1971, its message of courage in the face of tyranny and forgiveness in response to evil remains stunning to this day.

I have read this book twice, twenty years apart, and both times I came away with a sense of awe that because of their strong faith, Corrie ten Boom and her family were willing to risk their own lives to protect those who were being hunted down by the Nazis.

Even when caught and sent to a concentration camp where they endured unspeakable cruelty, Corrie ten Boom and her sister, Betsie, did not lose their faith but instead ministered to the women around them.

I can only hope that I would have the same courage if I were in Corrie’s shoes.   

I love Lidie Newton. She is a newlywed who accompanies her abolitionist husband from Illinois to Kansas Territory, at a time when the territory is mired in partisan rage and violence. Lidie narrates the story, and her straightforward, often insightful accounts pulled me in immediately. I was right there with her as she forged her way through numerous exploits, some humorous, others heart-breaking. The story is populated with characters who are both colorful and believable, and I came away with a heightened understanding of the role played by events in Kansas and Missouri during the frightening months leading up to the Civil War.

This book provided an insight into WWII in Italy. It is captivating and informative.

It tells the story of Pino, a brave 17-year-old who not only spied on the Germans who occupied his homeland but also crossed the Alps many times to save Jewish people. Full of mystery and intrigue, it was hard to put down until the end.

Like my novel, 22 Britannia Road sheds light on refugees in England, starting after the war when Janusz and Silvana are reunited after six years’ separation. The narrative alternates between flashbacks to the wartime traumas they each endured, and the “present” story of their struggles to rebuild their lives. When Poland is invaded, Janusz joins the underground army and makes his way to France and finally England with the anti-Nazi forces. This mirrors the story of two characters in my own novel, based on my grandfather and uncle. Silvana meanwhile escapes into the forest to hide with her infant son. When she and Janusz meet up after the war, theirs is no glossy romantic reunion; they barely know each other and both harbor secrets that must eventually come to light. 

I am fascinated by stories that encapsulate a whole life, usually from the perspective of a character looking back, assessing, wondering, and coming to terms with all that has transpired, both personally and globally. I am particularly fascinated by multi-dimensional female characters.

I was taken from page one by how well this story transitioned through different perspectives to offer a kaleidoscopic view of a life lived by a strong, unapologetic, complicated woman. 

Laurent Binet’s debut novel of “metafiction” draws its title from the chilling Nazi saying, “Himmler’s brain is called Heydrich” (Himmlers Hirn heißt Heydrich), a reference to Reinhard Heydrich, an architect of the Holocaust and one of the most terrifying figures in the Third Reich.

Known as “The Blond Beast,” Heydrich governed occupied Prague through terror, executions, and mass repression. His assassination by Czech resistance fighters in 1942 forms the heart of the novel.

Binet approaches this story in an entirely original way. Rather than hiding behind an omniscient narrator, he constantly steps into the narrative himself, revealing his anxieties, obsessions, research struggles, and doubts about how we write historical fiction. The result is a daring blend of thriller, memoir, history, and philosophical inquiry. The novel is gripping, unsettling, and fiercely intelligent, not only exploring the past but also how we write about it.

I was initially reluctant to read a novel about Nazi Germany, but I’m so glad I did. Shattuck introduces us to three women—Marianne, Benita, and Ania. Each has a uniquely compelling story, and I came to care about them all. These characters brought me a new understanding of how German women dealt with the Nazi era and its terrible aftermath. And importantly, Shattuck brings compassion to the three women, each of whom was striving to find a way through a treacherous and sometimes soul-warping period. Ultimately, the author leaves us with insights into our own often frightening times.

Nobilissima swept me into a time of historical upheaval--the disintegration of the Western Roman Empire. And I watched events unfold through the eyes of a real historical figure, Placidia, sister to the outrageously incompetent Roman emperor, and an influential leader in her own right. This fast-paced, well-researched novel begins with the city of Rome encircled by Germanic invaders. Soon, Placidia is abducted by the Goths, with astonishing consequences. Bedford portrays Placidia as a warm person, loyal to her friends and followers, but also as a leader capable of making hard decisions, and I cheered for her as she steered a survival course for her beloved Roman Empire. By the end, I couldn’t help wishing that history might have turned out differently.