100 Books Like The Power

Why people lie is often as interesting as the lie itself for me. This book lays this out as Korede finds herself being a protective big sister to the beautiful Ayoola, a woman with an unfortunate hobby of bumping off men she dates. Despite the darkness of the subject matter, it’s a story full of humor as Korede finds herself telling lie after lie and getting in way over her head to cover up her sister’s murders.

I’ve got two sisters (none of us serial killers!), and it’s funny how much of this tale is relatable! It’s fresh and sharp, with a rich vein of humor that had me chuckling through much of it.

I thought it was great to have Circe herself narrate her love affair with Odysseus.

The first half of the novel interestingly shares her tribulations growing up as a child in a family of gods. I found that this establishes a theme of immortality vs. mortality that the book explores in profound ways. Especially fascinating was Circe’s personal story of her love affair with Odysseus.

I was surprised and delighted that Miller included the resulting child, Telegonus, who is not in Homer but is in ancient myth. Even more surprising to me was Circe falling in love with Telemachus, Odysseus’ son by Penelope (also not in Homer!). This relationship allows the novel to end on a positive note as Circe learns to live like a mortal in her new life with Telemachus.

Read it, bought it for all my friends, and read it again.

Glennon’s writing style is so disarmingly honest, raw, and powerful that it brought me to tears with its authenticity and relatability.

Full of personal stories about being a mother, being gay, leaving a marriage, recovering from addiction, unpacking religion, and being a sensitive human in a hard, messy world, Glennon weaves healing with radical permission in the most beautiful ways.

Poignant and timeless, this book was a sensation when it came out and still hits home with every turn of the page.

A favorite quote: “My emotions. My intuition. My imagination. My courage. Those are the keys to freedom. Those are who we are. Will we be brave enough to unlock ourselves? Will we be brave enough to set ourselves free? Will we finally step out of our cages and say to ourselves, to our people, and to… show more.

What intrigues me about this book is the way the author, Margaret Atwood, took the (Genesis 30) story of Jacob, who impregnated his wife's handmaiden to produce the children which his wife could not conceive.

She then puts herself in the place of that handmaiden and asks some serious questions. Was that handmaid even given a choice in the matter? What would have happened to her if she had refused? She then rolls the same idea forward 4,000 years to a pseudo religious society in which the sole purpose of handmaidens is to use their bodies to conceive and gestate the next generation for those whom they serve.

I bought this book because of the great write-ups about it. The author won the Nobel Prize in Literature, and this was his first book following that award, so for me, it was recommended as soon as the author won the award.

It's a great read and has filled me with a mixture of emotions, so it will be interesting to see how you feel after reading it. For me personally, it's a book to study and learn from, as there is always room for learning in any career you decide to do.

It fascinated me because Klara is an 'Artificial Friend', which ties in with my research and interests in Artificial Intelligence.

I love this book because of Katniss Everdeen's depth. She’s not just another “kickass hottie”, she’s complex, with a powerful character arc driven by a deep sense of responsibility.

The book’s commentary on mental health and Katniss' parentification resonated with me personally. The story world of all the districts and President Snow's iron grip on them is well-drawn and has parallels to our own, too. 

I am thrilled with any historical fiction that offers another perspective on what popular culture believes to be true. In this case, a man (Darwin) was the only one to posit the theory of evolution. This book explores the life of a brilliant woman who longed to be a scientist in the 18th and 19th centuries. Despite all misogynistic odds, she followed her dream. 

Despite having read this book a decade ago, I can easily recall the scenery, the time frame, and the incredibly luscious botanical-steeped life of the main character, Alma Whittaker, who took me with her to London, Peru, Philadelphia, Tahiti, and Amsterdam. 

Because I am a freak fanatic about all things moss-related, the depth of research in this area was mind-blowing! I loved that the world of mosses became a character, and I could deeply relate to Alma in this way. I was stunned by this entire… show more.

I haven’t read many stories with witches, but that changed when I read the story of these women facing real problems, sadly still resonating today. Before reading this book, I certainly wouldn’t have considered witches to be important on a list of strong women solving problems.

I was sucked into this story of three sisters living in a world that forbids witchcraft. I wanted to fight alongside these sisters as they called upon the bond between women and our common wisdom. I wanted to fight the evil suppressors of women’s right to vote and rights to exist and thrive as women. I still want to lend my voice and privilege to protect their library. They find their ways, not without sacrifices, but always with flair.

I’d read the reviews, so I was prepared for a great book. I wasn’t prepared to be thrown out of my comfort zone—but in the best possible way.

Mandel made me sit with what it really means to lose everything and still create something beautiful. It’s not about saving the world; it’s about creating a new dream and making it your home. I loved how it celebrates art, memory, and the strange persistence of humanity even when everything else is gone.

This book reminded me that hope is often raw, painful, and ultimately necessary.

As a writer who’s interested in what comes next—after climate change, after fascism—I love how Diane Cook uses broad brush strokes to show us the future, without going into too much history or detail.

Instead of hyper-focusing on what the future holds for us, Cook directs our attention to one small, outlier community that’s doing weird things. This is a great technique: she paints a picture of a future world by painting a picture of a fringe group that’s trying desperately to be different from the main one.

A mother-daughter drama drives the plot forward, and we learn about the rules and ruminations of the fringe group as the characters sort out their power struggles.