100 Books Like The Wide Circumference of Love

With more than 6-million Americans living with Alzheimer’s, my story is a shared narrative. Because reading creates empathy, I work to widen the perspective of my writing and include voices different from my own. Thanks to neuroplasticity, healthy brains have the ability to keep changing and learning. Each one of these books offers a helpful nudge in a new direction. My essays and articles have appeared in numerous publications including the Washington Post, Luxe, and Variable West, and are listed as notable in the 2019 Best American Science and Nature Writing. I’m currently at work on a second memoir about motherhood and the way travel cultivates a willing acceptance of uncertainty. 

With more than 6-million Americans living with Alzheimer’s, my story is a shared narrative. Because reading creates empathy, I work to widen the perspective of my writing and include voices different from my own. Thanks to neuroplasticity, healthy brains have the ability to keep changing and learning. Each one of these books offers a helpful nudge in a new direction. My essays and articles have appeared in numerous publications including the Washington Post, Luxe, and Variable West, and are listed as notable in the 2019 Best American Science and Nature Writing. I’m currently at work on a second memoir about motherhood and the way travel cultivates a willing acceptance of uncertainty. 

With more than 6-million Americans living with Alzheimer’s, my story is a shared narrative. Because reading creates empathy, I work to widen the perspective of my writing and include voices different from my own. Thanks to neuroplasticity, healthy brains have the ability to keep changing and learning. Each one of these books offers a helpful nudge in a new direction. My essays and articles have appeared in numerous publications including the Washington Post, Luxe, and Variable West, and are listed as notable in the 2019 Best American Science and Nature Writing. I’m currently at work on a second memoir about motherhood and the way travel cultivates a willing acceptance of uncertainty. 

After writing two expansive novels—The Edge of the World, about lives spanning six decades, and Liberty Landing, a contemporary novel rooted in the arc of American history—I found myself drawn to something smaller. Not smaller in meaning or scope, but in form. I wanted to experiment with the art of compression in storytelling. I was inspired by a microfiction written by novelist Joyce Carol Oates—The Widow’s First Year, which reads: “I kept myself alive.” Eight words. A complete universe of sorrow, endurance, resilience, and time. It stunned me. As I began to write Small Worlds, I was compelled to study fast fiction with the sharpest forensic tools.

I’m a fan of many kinds of stories, but the novel is my favorite form. I love most genres, especially historical and literary. My favorite reads are sagas, not to escape life but rather to experience more of life, immersing myself in a sweeping yet intimate journey into someone else’s world. In my favorite fiction, the protagonists are women or girls who discover their power. Not superpowers, but the real deal: intelligence, compassion, courage. The secret sauce is when an author accomplishes this without a wink—without the heroic woman becoming a caricature of unexpected masculinity or precious femininity. I want novels about women with potential as unlimited as men.

My great uncle was an eccentric book collector who lived in an old, rambling house stuffed floor-to-ceiling with thousands and thousands of books. After he died, I inherited a tiny portion of his collection: a set of state guidebooks from the 1930s and 40s. These were the American Guides created by the Federal Writers’ Project, the New Deal program that put jobless writers to work during the Great Depression. I dipped into these weird, rich, fascinating books, and I was hooked immediately. Some years later, I quit my job in publishing to research and write my own account of the FWP’s unlikely rise and lamentable fall, Republic of Detours. 

I am passionate about talent development and college access. I started my journey as a researcher when I learned that high school valedictorians’ adult success depends in large part on their race, social class, and gender. This work led me to life-long questions. How do we recognize talent and give young people opportunities without requiring their total assimilation into the dominant culture? How do we change our schools and colleges to welcome everyone and to benefit from the viewpoints and voices of all of our students? Answering these questions is imperative for our collective well-being in our changing society and world. 

I am a lifelong lover of books. As a child, one of my most prized possessions was my library card. It gave me entrance to a world of untold wonders from the past, present, and future. My love of reading sparked my imagination and led me to my own fledgling writing efforts. I come from a family of storytellers, my mother being the chief example. She delighted us with stories from her childhood and her maturation in the rural South. She was an excellent mimic, which added realism and humor to every tale. 

I have a youthful spirit, but an old soul. Perhaps, that’s why I love African American history and gravitated to Black Studies as my undergraduate degree. My reverence for my ancestors sends me time and again to African-American historical fiction in an effort to connect with our past. Growing up, I was that kid who liked being around my elders and eavesdropping on grown-ups' conversations. Now, I listen to my ancestors as they guide my creativity. I’m an award-winning hybrid author writing contemporary and historical novels, and I value each. Still, it’s those historical characters and tales that snatch me by the hand and passionately urge me to do their bidding. 

Paul D. Escott is the author of thirteen books focused on the Confederacy or the Union, is co-author of other volumes, and has written many articles and book chapters. He won research fellowships from the Rockefeller Foundation and the Whitney M. Young Jr. Foundation and is the Reynolds Professor of History Emeritus from Wake Forest University.