73 Books Like The Road to Bittersweet

Many an idealistic young law student like me felt that jolt in our spine early on when we saw up in the balcony of that courthouse a sleepy Scout being told, “Stand up, Jean Louise. Your father’s passin’.”

The movie is as faithful to the novel as the medium would allow. The novel is told entirely from Scout’s POV and not only focuses upon the racism of the time and place, but also upon her coming of age as a tomboy and being told to act “As a little girl should.”

The book offers more to those of us for whom the rule of law and not of men is a passion, especially in Finch’s closing: “There is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of Rockefeller, a stupid man the equal of Einstein… That institution, gentlemen, is a court.” 

Each time I read this American classic, it changes in meaning and relevance.

Told from Francie’s point of view, it’s a family’s coming-of-age story about overcoming personal and societal choices in order to persevere and grow, just like the tree in the title. Smith is one of the first authors to write about the real, human struggles of working-class Americans at the start of the 20th century.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is not a light, whimsical read but it’s one that sticks with me. I relate to Francie, a vulnerable, observant young woman who uses her writing as a way to process, explore, and eventually propel her into a different life, away from the trauma and poverty of her beloved Brooklyn.

This book is one that everyone needs to read and that I find myself going back to again and again.

I was drawn to Bertie from the start. Her struggles to understand herself and why things happened as they did resonated with me in a very personal way.

I read this recently on Kindle and couldn’t wait to read more each time I had to put it down to do some mundane tasks in life, such as eating, taking my granddaughter to therapy, and stuff like that. Bertie stayed in my mind, calling me to finish her story.

Even now that I’ve finished, she still whispers in my mind, making me want to read the book all over again.

Sadie Blue grabbed my attention from the start. I wanted to learn her story. I related to her desire for knowledge. Unlike Sadie, I was educated, but very much like her, I did everything I knew how to learn more.

Sadie’s world of poverty reminds me of family stories that have been the background of my life. And Sadie’s grandma, Gladys, represented so many of the strong women I grew up with. Sadie and Gladys’ world is one I’ve envisioned in my mind while laying on the porch while my aunts and uncles rocked in white wooden rockers, stories of their pasts floating around me, becoming a part of me. 

In this tale, the world is in post-apocalyptic decline, and human fertility has collapsed to zero. A family set up a cloning facility, hoping to overcome the odds and produce a fertile population. The clones, once mature, have other ideas. They take over the facility and marginalise the non-clones. Only rarely is a fertile clone produced, and they are kept as ‘breeders’. As the story progresses, the desire of a naturally born individual for self-determination, and conflicting values between individual and clone, lead to a tension that cannot go unresolved. The storytelling cleverly slips between omniscient in the scenes with the clones, and third person in the scenes with the individual characters.

This book is the epitome of a slow-burn romance, so as a reader, you get to know both main characters—small-town doctor Maddie and new-in-town librarian Syd—really well and fall in love with them as you watch them slowly fall in love with each other. The author has a unique sense of humor, and the witty banter between Maddie and Syd made me laugh out loud several times. 

This nonfiction work is the quintessential handbook to the biological diversity of Appalachia. Plus, it’s fun to read! Brooks grew up on a farm not far from where I did in north-central West Virginia. I like to think he fell in love with the flora and fauna of our region the same way I did—by simply being exposed to it from the day he was born. His account of a snake visiting camp after dark one night is told in true West Virginia style. With a tongue-in-cheek humor I love almost as much as these mountains!

This book may seem an aberration, but it makes my list because it touches on my own research life, my own literary journey, and my heart: it connects Appalachia and Ireland. This is a book of poetry—simple, lovely pieces written in both places—accompanied by gorgeous photographs of nature and landmarks. As one who travels to Ireland whenever I can, and pines for it when I can’t, this book transports me from my mountain home to those shores across the Atlantic. I am a visual writer, in that I see my stories play out, and especially the stories I imagine for my Irish immigrant ancestors. So a picture book of poems that connects my two homelands strikes the right note with me, lets my mind relax and create.

Inspired by the natural rhythms of her land in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, Queen presents more than 70 recipes for homespun desserts (mostly cakes) with a few savory items scattered in.

I learned of her cookbook through her gorgeously photographed food blog and Instagram feed, but her recipes are what convinced me to buy a copy. Her Southern influence comes through in the Green Tomato Cornmeal Cake, Sweet Potato Cupcakes, and Black Pepper Roasted Strawberry Buttermilk Cake, but she’s equally comfortable tackling the apples, cranberries, and pears I love, too.

I loved reading this novel first and foremost for its exquisite craftswomanship; van Eerden just writes beautiful sentences. Her descriptions are palpable, delivering the reader to a hollow and its people—all characters who remain intricately bound to their homeplaces no matter how far away they travel. Like my own novel, this story revolves around women and also includes an LGBTQ character. And themes of grieving and motherhood, love and loss, and compromise, are naturally woven into the fabric of the story.