Here are 100 books that The Postcard fans have personally recommended if you like
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Maybe because I’m a novelist, I’ve always loved reading novels about writers—it’s a joy to see my passionate relationship with my own work reflected in these fictional solitary obsessives, my literary siblings. Reading about their own writing gives me a sense of recognition, community, and solidarity, and makes me feel less alone in this odd vocation, which is no small thing. I can’t get enough fictional evocations of the daily discipline of the writer’s life—as well as the trajectory of a literary career—from adolescence (Jo March) to old age (Leonard Schiller).
I have always loved the image of Jo March hiding up in the attic (she calls it a “garret” because it’s more romantic) of her family’s New England house, munching on russet apples and writing furiously away with her pet rat, Scrabble, as her muse, or curling up with Jane Eyre—it’s the only place she can be alone.
She’s one of the classic aspiring young writers of literature—a totally unconventional, headstrong girl with big ambitions who has provided inspiration for her real-life counterparts for generations, me included.
Louisa May Alcott shares the innocence of girlhood in this classic coming of age story about four sisters-Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.
In picturesque nineteenth-century New England, tomboyish Jo, beautiful Meg, fragile Beth, and romantic Amy are responsible for keeping a home while their father is off to war. At the same time, they must come to terms with their individual personalities-and make the transition from girlhood to womanhood. It can all be quite a challenge. But the March sisters, however different, are nurtured by their wise and beloved Marmee, bound by their love for each other and the…
A moving story of love, betrayal, and the enduring power of hope in the face of darkness.
German pianist Hedda Schlagel's world collapsed when her fiancé, Fritz, vanished after being sent to an enemy alien camp in the United States during the Great War. Fifteen years later, in 1932, Hedda…
Born into a powerfully matrilineal family (my mother chose my name when she was twelve) in small town Appalachia, I believe that we inherit our parents’ unresolved emotional dilemmas as well as their physical characteristics, and that the sensual elements of places our families may have inhabited for generations are “bred in the bone.” I’ve always said that history tells us the facts, but literature tells us the story. I’m a language-conscious writer who began as a poet, so that each line has a beat and a rhythm. Words awaken our memories and the powerful unconscious knowledge we all possess. The reader meets the writer inside the story: it’s a connection of mind and heart.
A nominee for the 2020 Booker Prize, The Shadow King opens at the end of WWII as Italy prepares to invade almost undefended Ethopia, whose communications depend on long-distance runners.
Orphaned Hirut feels her mother’s absence, yet rises from a lowly maid to a position of power as she inspires other women to openly and secretly resist an overwhelming colonial power. This matrilineal story set in a patriarchial society at war has many interwoven tales. I found it captivating, and the focus on relationships between women at war was a fractured mirror of my own concerns as I completed my novel set during America’s Civil War
Set during Mussolini's 1935 invasion of Ethiopia, The Shadow King takes us back to the first real conflict of World War II, casting light on the women soldiers who were left out of the historical record. At its heart is orphaned maid Hirut, who finds herself tumbling into a new world of thefts and violations, of betrayals and overwhelming rage. What follows is a heartrending and unputdownable exploration of what it means to be a woman at war.
When I moved to South Carolina some 25 years ago, I found understanding all the history around me challenging. Even more than that, I found it hard to talk about! Politics and history get mixed up in tricky ways. I worked with students to understand stories about plantation sites, leading me to start reading the words of survivors of captivity. I started reading slave narratives and trying to listen to what people had to say. While sad sometimes, their words are also hopeful. I now read books about our nation’s darkest times because I look for ways to guide us to a better future.
A desperate mother gives her child all she can before they are separated: a cotton sack with a handful of nuts, a tattered dress, and a braid of hair. Little Ashley was sold away from her mother but somehow held onto and cherished that bag. Later, her granddaughter embroidered that story of a mother’s love onto the bag.
I never knew where this story would take me because it’s not a history book or a family story like any other. The author takes this one sad and beautiful object and asks us to think about motherhood, Black hair, women’s art, nuts, and the history of food for enslaved Americans. She even asks us to think about girlhood itself.
Could I ever see that much in one object? Could you? This is a gorgeous and inspiring reminder of how history works for different people and in different ways if we look…
NATIONAL BOOK AWARD WINNER * NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER * WINNER OF THE CUNDILL HISTORY PRIZE
'A remarkable book' - Jennifer Szalai, The New York Times 'A brilliant exercise in historical excavation and recovery' - Annette Gordon-Reed, author of The Hemingses of Monticello 'A history told with brilliance and tenderness and fearlessness' - Jill Lepore, author of These Truths: A History of the United States
In 1850s South Carolina, Rose, an enslaved woman, faced a crisis: the imminent sale of her daughter Ashley. Thinking quickly, she packed a cotton bag with a few items. Soon after, the nine-year-old girl was…
This book is an elegiac meditation on the will to survive. Tor, a beluga whaler, and his wife, Astrid, a botanist specializing in Arctic flora, are stranded during the dark season of 1937-38 at his remote whaling station in the Svalbard archipelago when they misjudge ice conditions and fail to…
Born into a powerfully matrilineal family (my mother chose my name when she was twelve) in small town Appalachia, I believe that we inherit our parents’ unresolved emotional dilemmas as well as their physical characteristics, and that the sensual elements of places our families may have inhabited for generations are “bred in the bone.” I’ve always said that history tells us the facts, but literature tells us the story. I’m a language-conscious writer who began as a poet, so that each line has a beat and a rhythm. Words awaken our memories and the powerful unconscious knowledge we all possess. The reader meets the writer inside the story: it’s a connection of mind and heart.
I loved Waltzing With The Dragons for its autobiographical sense of history and description of mother/daughter bonds that are truly universal.
The story begins in 1922 with Ly, the daughter of one of the last Mandarins in north Vietnam, who flees an arranged marriage at thirteen to stay with her father’s friends, a French couple, and lives through the WWII Japanese occupation, finally fleeing to the South where she falls in love with a French Army doctor and gives birth to a daughter, Mai-Tam, in 1952.
Mai-Tam, who is Eurasian and never feels she belongs, grows up in the shadow of the American-Vietnam war. The novel ends in 1967, preserving a mother-daughter kinship that sustains migration and separation.
Waltzing with the Dragons is the true story of a Vietnamese woman and her Eurasian daughter.Born in 1922 in the north of Vietnam, under French colonial rule, Ly was the daughter of one of the last Mandarins, a childhood friend of Ho Chi Minh. After she rebelled against her family, by refusing an arranged marriage at thirteen, she was sent to live with her father’s best friends, a French couple. It was the beginning of a life-long love affair with French culture and lifestyle. At seventeen, she married a French army officer who, shortly there after, was killed in action.…
I spent ten years uncovering hidden histories consulting with historians, conducting interviews, sourcing archival records, and visiting Poland and Germany to determine how my mother and grandparents survived the Holocaust. And how, as refugees starting again in new countries after the war, they dammed in their traumas with silence. I became fascinated by how repressing war traumas affects relationships and families—for example, in my family, a father who gave his daughter away, my mother’s loveless childhood with parents who turned out not to be hers, and the lies told that both protected and harmed her.
Winner of the Baillie Gifford Prize for nonfiction, this magnificent book begins as a memoir with Flannagan visiting the site of the POW camp in Japan where his father was subjected to slave labor during WWII, was starved, and faced certain death, saved only by the atomic bomb dropping on nearby Hiroshima. Throughout this book, Flanagan grapples with the fact he exists only because of this tragedy (as I grapple in Irena’s Gift with the fact I exist only because a Nazi SS officer who tortured and killed women saved my mother.)
Often, in families of war survivors, one son or daughter becomes curious—obsessed even—with how their parent survived, perhaps not realizing they are also seeking to understand their own identity given they inherited their parent’s trauma. Frustrated by a Japanese museum’s omission of his father’s slave labor experience, Flanagan poses his dilemma: “Sometimes I wonder…
I spent ten years uncovering hidden histories consulting with historians, conducting interviews, sourcing archival records, and visiting Poland and Germany to determine how my mother and grandparents survived the Holocaust. And how, as refugees starting again in new countries after the war, they dammed in their traumas with silence. I became fascinated by how repressing war traumas affects relationships and families—for example, in my family, a father who gave his daughter away, my mother’s loveless childhood with parents who turned out not to be hers, and the lies told that both protected and harmed her.
This book is a sweeping, multigenerational, cinematic memoir spanning from the Chinese silk trade to WWII Japanese-occupied Hong Kong and, finally, suburban Australia. I love true stories where we learn about history and cultures through fascinating characters. In House of Kwa, Mimi’s eccentric father, Francis, may have put the war behind him, but Mimi certainly bears his scars.
Imagine what it’s like to receive a legal letter notifying you that your father is suing you. That’s what turned Mimi’s hair gray overnight. Francis sued his daughter over the distribution of his sister’s estate, Mimi’s doting, nurturing, globe-trotting Aunt Theresa.
It’s remarkable how Mimi overcame her abusive childhood in 1970s Western Australia and later became a renowned journalist and TV presenter. Mimi is the hero of this story for learning how to stand up for herself and her mother, and when she is older, for helping her mother obtain a…
Wild Swans meets Educated in this riveting true story spanning four generations
'Revelatory and remarkable' - TRENT DALTON
'Memorable and vivid' - RICHARD GLOVER
'Lands with a thump in your heart' - LISA MILLAR
'Heartbreaking and uplifting' - MEAGHAN WILSON ANASTASIOS
'An heroic saga' - MIKE MUNRO
The dragon circles and swoops ... a tiger running alone in the night ...
Mimi Kwa ignored the letter for days. When she finally opened it, the news was so shocking her hair turned grey. Why would a father sue his own daughter?
The collision was over the estate of Mimi's beloved…
Tina Edwards loved her childhood and creating fairy houses, a passion shared with her father, a world-renowned architect. But at nine years old, she found him dead at his desk and is haunted by this memory. Tina's mother abruptly moved away, leaving Tina with feelings of abandonment and suspicion.
I spent ten years uncovering hidden histories consulting with historians, conducting interviews, sourcing archival records, and visiting Poland and Germany to determine how my mother and grandparents survived the Holocaust. And how, as refugees starting again in new countries after the war, they dammed in their traumas with silence. I became fascinated by how repressing war traumas affects relationships and families—for example, in my family, a father who gave his daughter away, my mother’s loveless childhood with parents who turned out not to be hers, and the lies told that both protected and harmed her.
Given the heroic women I portray in Irena’s Gift, I am naturally drawn to stories of resilient women who challenge conventions to reinvent themselves and thrive in new countries. In Kantika, through exquisite prose, Elizabeth Graver transports readers from the vibrant streets of Constantinople to the bustling avenues of Barcelona–where characters based on her own Sephardic family are exiled after losing everything–to Havana and then New York.
Its glorious cover is an apt description of the kaleidoscope of cultures and places this story allows us to inhabit. Graver's lyrical writing breathes life into each city as if it were a character. Each location bursts with movement and color, such as this description of 1907 Constantinople: “In wordless tunes, nonsense sounds and ballads, in Ladino, French and bits of Turkish, Hebrew, Greek, she sings, as on the street the lemon man sings lemons, the Bulgarian sings pudding, the vegetable…
A dazzling Sephardic multigenerational saga that moves from Istanbul to Barcelona, Havana, and New York, exploring displacement, endurance, and family as home.
A kaleidoscopic portrait of one family's displacement across four countries, Kantika―“song” in Ladino―follows the joys and losses of Rebecca Cohen, feisty daughter of the Sephardic elite of early 20th-century Istanbul. When the Cohens lose their wealth and are forced to move to Barcelona and start anew, Rebecca fashions a life and self from what comes her way―a failed marriage, the need to earn a living, but also passion, pleasure and motherhood. Moving from Spain to Cuba to New…
I spent ten years uncovering hidden histories consulting with historians, conducting interviews, sourcing archival records, and visiting Poland and Germany to determine how my mother and grandparents survived the Holocaust. And how, as refugees starting again in new countries after the war, they dammed in their traumas with silence. I became fascinated by how repressing war traumas affects relationships and families—for example, in my family, a father who gave his daughter away, my mother’s loveless childhood with parents who turned out not to be hers, and the lies told that both protected and harmed her.
As a journalist, teacher and Education Director for Israel’s Kids4Peace (now part of Seeds of Peace), Ittay Flescher has spent years bringing together youth across conflict lines. In this vital book for our times, he shows how recognizing our shared humanity can cultivate dialogue and trust, dismantle stereotypes, counter dehumanization, and foster empathy—demonstrating that in both groups, there are partners for peace. Flescher highlights young voices challenging the one-sided narratives they have inherited, and shows how, “two rooted and indigenous national identities” can engage in difficult conversations about historical events, identity, and coexistence.
Given how war has affected my own family, what resonated most is Flescher’s ability to humanize conflict. He reminds us that behind every headline are innocent mothers, fathers, daughters, and sons who deserve our compassion. He has learned that people with extreme opinions often carry deep traumas that shaped their beliefs: “I can understand someone’s pain and…
When dehumanisation and destruction become the norm, the cycle must be broken.
For over twenty years, Ittay Flescher has worked as an educator, journalist and peacebuilder in Melbourne and Jerusalem. When he woke up on the morning of October 7, 2023 to the sounds of rocket sirens over Jerusalem and later saw the devastation of Gaza in response, the grief and sadness that engulfed him - and so many others - compelled him to ask: how can we find a way forward?
Following years spent facilitating dialogue between Jews, Muslims and Christians, Ittay believes that peace can only be…
I am not Norwegian, or even Scandinavian. My interest in history came from my dad being a veteran after serving in Europe in WWII, even though he talked about it very little. I’ve always loved to read, write, and think, so I especially loved to read WWII stories and share them. After I met new friends on a trip to Norway, people who had lived through the five-year German occupation, I felt compelled to write about their experiences. Their stories, and ones like Snow Treasure, earned my deep respect, compelling me to research, and eventually to write, a novel that might capture the spirit and stories I had heard and loved.
Reading aloud to students is my ultimate commendation for the best books, with a bonus for books that are short and powerful. Twenty and Ten is based on actual events in a French boarding school during World War II. When ten desperate Jewish children needed a sanctuary to survive, to avoid being sent to concentration camps, the nuns wisely discussed this with the twenty resident children. Those children would need to keep their life-or-death secret. Limited food and resources, barely enough for the twenty, would need to stretch to keep ten more alive, perhaps for years. If discovered, all might be taken, or killed. “What do you think they will do?” and “What would you do?” and “Why?” are among my favorite questions when sharing this book. Amazing conversations follow, for children and adults. Then eager hands reach for copies to read again.
The Duke's Christmas Redemption
by
Arietta Richmond,
A Duke who has rejected love, a Lady who dreams of a love match, an arranged marriage, a house full of secrets, a most unneighborly neighbor, a plot to destroy reputations, an unexpected love that redeems it all.
Lady Charlotte Wyndham, given in an arranged marriage to a man she…
I worked for the last 25 years teaching literature classes and creative writing workshops—most of that time at the University of California at Davis. The students in my classes were mainly English majors and/or young writers. They tended to be serious about the potential of a text. To be serious, today, in America, about the potential of a text is to dwell in an inherently counter-cultural position. It is to conceive of the value of a text as something surpassing entertainment, i.e., use. Such a surpassing is a blasphemous notion… still tolerated in the context of the University. Its proliferation beyond those boundaries seems unworkable.
How is a person like a novel? Both, at their core, are made of stories. Both, at their core, are the way in which various stories are imagined to hang together. But the nexus of stories at the core of a person is written in the brain (wordlessness), which is always in flux, changeable, and incomplete, forever before words and on the verge of being totally lost.
The nexus of stories at the core of a novel, on the other hand, is written in nothing other than words; as such, it makes manifest a disembodied, complete (i.e., fictive) person—a person invulnerable to death. A novel is what a person is forever wanting to turn into.
The four long narratives in The Emigrants appear at first to be the straightforward biographies of four Germans in exile. Sebald reconstructs the lives of a painter, a doctor, an elementary-school teacher, and Great Uncle Ambrose. Following (literally) in their footsteps, the narrator retraces routes of exile which lead from Lithuania to London, from Munich to Manchester, from the South German provinces to Switzerland, France, New York, Constantinople, and Jerusalem. Along with memories, documents, and diaries of the Holocaust, he collects photographs-the enigmatic snapshots which stud The Emigrants and bring to mind family photo albums. Sebald combines precise documentary with…