Books like The Way Life Should Be

Colm Toibin is one of my favorite writers. The drama in his novels is found in quiet moments with portraits of ordinary characters that we get to know and love. Nora Webster is a 44-year-old woman living in a small town in Ireland. We meet her soon after her husband dies, as she grieves amid navigating her new life with four children and little income.  

Through Toibin’s exceptional character development, we become immersed in Nora’s journey: her realization of feeling confined by the well-meaning expectations of her neighbors; her relationship with her sons as she struggles to parent them through their grief; her growing self-reflection as she awakens to her hidden strength. We cheer her as she achieves her newfound independence.

Last but not least is Get Out of My Head, written by my friend and Pinterest’s Chief of Staff for TwentyTwo, Meredith Arthur. This book not only talks about overthinking and anxiety, it also delves into other important topics such as perfectionism, people-pleasing, and knowing and understanding oneself. The book has great content, plus it is visually beautiful—Meredith’s background at Pinterest definitely shows in the book’s amazing artwork and overall aesthetic. 

Years ago, I watched a documentary on the orphan train movement, which took place between 1854 through 1929. Coordinated by the Children’s Aid Society in New York City, amidst the cholera epidemic, an estimated 250,000 children became orphaned and subsequently homeless or abandoned.

The Children's Aid Society devised a plan to transport orphaned children by train to homes in the West to solve the orphan crisis and address the inadequate welfare institutions of the day. Many children were helped, and others became victims of families looking for cheap labor.

This book holds a special place in my heart because I had always intended to write a story about this movement. Then, one day, walking into Barnes & Noble, I saw this book on the best-sellers rack. Needless to say, I was inspired to start writing my own novels and berated myself for not having done so sooner!

I can’t be the only one who settles down to watch TV next to my husband – both of us on our phones aimlessly scrolling. He sends me a DM. I message him back. Even my spaniel knew my phone was more exciting than he is. Something had to change.

This book, written by the men who made Google and YouTube as addictive as possible, showed me how to live in this digital age without being glued to my phone. Work before e-mails. Family before Instagram. No more phones in the bedroom. It was a real wake-up call.

Though written in the 1930s, Am I a Redundant Human Being? was not published until 2001, several decades after Hartwig’s death in 1967 (the English translation appeared in 2010).

The novel’s narrator, Aloisia Schmidt, reflects on her desire for external validation and a more exciting life, as well as the constant feeling of invisibility. Though she is only about thirty in 1930 Vienna, her ambition is constrained by disappointment, and the coming decade promises more of the same. 

I like this book because the author shares her story of transforming a heartbreaking broken engagement into enhanced self-understanding and a happy marriage. The book is easy to read. As the title suggests, if a woman loves herself before entering a relationship, she'll choose wisely instead of marrying someone who's not right for her to prove she deserves love.

I'm impressed by the author's affirmation of serendipity, willingness to be open to the unexpected. Christine used to think her future marriage partner should have traits like her ex-fiancé had: average height, a full head of hair, and professional occupation.

Before she felt ready for another serious relationship, Christine writes that she started dating a man who was bald, very tall, and seemed to lack ambition. She found him fun, comfortable, and with excellent character traits. Christine married him.

Carl Jung has two quotes that I love. First, “the gold is in the dark.” And second, “I’d rather be whole than good.” Both recognize that we’re complicated, contradictory, and gloriously messy beings. Debbie Ford’s book was the first time I felt I could actually do something with the profound wisdom of Jung. One particular exercise pretty much “cured” me immediately of some long-standing resentment I had with a former boss. Even though the language is sometimes a bit too woo-woo Californian hippy for me, it’s a book with some deeply useful exercises to help you become more whole, kinder to yourself, and ultimately more wholly you.

While many novels about female friendship focus on young women, The Weekend follows three women in their seventies, whose decades-long friendship has sustained them through illness, infidelity, divorce – and recently the death of their fourth close friend, Sylvie.

Drawn together over a weekend to clear out Sylvie’s house, the remaining women must grapple with their shared past and uncertain future. I loved this glimpse into the lives of older women – a reality not often portrayed in fiction – and admired Wood’s ability to make each of her three narrators flawed, relatable, and human.

If you like immersive character-driven novels, this book won’t disappoint.

This book is a powerful guide to manifestation.

It really did help me to acquire an unwavering faith in the universe – a realisation that the universe truly does have my back – at all times. The book also falls into alignment with the other books mentioned in this list, in that it speaks of how we can connect with spiritual guidance – especially through tough times.

I have had a rigorous manifestation practice since reading this book for the first time in 2020 – and I have been able to manifest almost all of my deepest desires. I 100% believe in manifestation, and this book is a solid stepping stone towards such.

From the first page, this novel transported me to Paris so completely I could almost smell the bread and feel the cobblestones underfoot.

The writing is sensory and assured. It is filled with descriptions of food, fashion, art, and wine that don't just set a scene but make you ache to be there. What elevates this beyond a love letter to Paris is Stella herself. She's a young woman in the middle of becoming, and watching her navigate that is quietly compelling.

Her friendship with the elderly art collector is one of the book's great pleasures: two people at very different stages of life, each with something essential to offer the other. That dynamic felt true and earned. I loved Stella and was rooting for her the whole way.