100 Books Like Unless

This is such an insightful glimpse into what happens when an artist—in this case, an architect—stops creating, that’s both hilarious and heartbreaking.

Describing the price of privilege, but without preciousness, Maria Semple illustrates the decline of a mother and professional, doing what seem like the right things while producing disastrous results that really ring true.

Fatigued by the priorities of high-tech Seattle, Bernadette loses her confidence and misplaces her trust. Then it’s her daughter who has to pull her back from the brink. Their love withstands the tests of culture, community, and commodity, reminding us of the remarkable symbiosis between mothers and daughters while showcasing Semple’s irrepressible, satiric wit.

This book holds a cherished place in my heart as it delves into the intricate dynamics of mother-daughter relationships and the profound journey of self-discovery. Growing up, I often felt the weight of cultural expectations, and choosing a different path inevitably strained my familial bonds.

As I read, memories of my mother and sisters flooded back, reminding me of the unique connections we share. An artfully crafted story that made me question so much about myself and the way that culture has influenced me as a person. Tan’s lyrical prose eloquently voices the experiences of so many young girls who have long been silenced, making this, without a doubt, one of my most treasured reads.

I was one of those women who was obsessed with Oprah’s Book Club. She started it in 1996, the same year I started my sophomore year of college. I can’t say that I read every book assigned to me in my classes, but I damn sure as hell read every book Oprah recommended.

White Oleander was picked in May 1999, just a few months before my wedding. I did zero wedding planning the week I read that book. I ignored my soon-to-be husband and called my sisters to demand that they read the book. The story, which follows Astrid (why did my parents name me such a terrible ugly name like Courtney when Astrid was right there?) as she navigates foster care following her mother’s conviction for murder, is compelling. However, I fell in love with the prose and the way Finch describes the people and places in the novel.… show more.

It's 1969, Phyllis is married to a kind man, with two children and a large house in suburban London. Her domestic world is not far removed from a dutiful 50s housewife’s. Then a much younger man, dashing, selfish, and a family friend, kisses her in a dark garden, and her life explodes. She abandons her family and moves to a shabby flat in Ladbroke Grove. A new world opens to her – she meets people of colour, artists, activists, drinkers, and idealists. She experiences sexual freedom and romantic love. Phyllis’s teenage daughter joins her in her new life, and mother and daughter must work out a different kind of relationship. I found myself feeling furious with Phyllis at the same time as emphasising with her.

I was once in line to get a book signed by Elizabeth Strout, and the minute I opened my mouth to greet her, I burst into tears. That’s how much I loved this book.

I loved Amy, the mother, and how hard she was trying to parent her teenage daughter, Isabelle. And Isabelle, who is trying to figure out her place in the world ends up having an affair with her teacher. But what I love the most is how much I felt bad for both Isabelle, who is trying to sort out her feelings for her teacher and herself, and Amy, who is furious at her daughter, the teacher, and herself.

Strout is so good at these kinds of perfectly imperfect relationships, these people who love and hurt each other. I read this book at least a decade ago and I still feel the sadness and tenderness of it… show more.

I loved this book for its humanity and the language she used to pithily emphasize characters and situations. There was not an excess word employed. She compassionately realized every character and gave them wisdom, angst, and a tragic sense of loss. I found it utterly absorbing and have reread it several times.

Want to spend 10 glorious hours with Meryl Streep?

I loved her audiobook performance of Tom Lake. Her intonation mirrors the exact qualities that the main characters, who are actors, strive for: neither underacted nor overacted. Just genuine. 

Ann Patchett is a treasure, and in Tom Lake, she effortlessly navigates two timelines: one in which Lara tells her daughters about meeting famous actor Peter Duke in a long-ago play. These scenes are just as compelling as the flashbacks in which we learn about her time with Duke before he became a famous movie star.

It's a talent, the ability to tell a mostly ordinary life in a page-turning way. Her imagery is magnificent. Every scene is wondrous. Touching. So real.

Finally. Finally(!) a post-apocalyptic book that is not depressing, and scary, and rage-inducing. This book is the literal opposite of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road (I’m not knocking that book; it’s good, but this is better). I enjoyed Tea Obrecht’s first novel immensely and was thrilled to pick this up as an audiobook.

I was immediately charmed by the mother and daughter at the center of this novel and deeply invested in their journey in and around this strange version of New York City with its nesting cranes and underground pirate radio stations. This book made me hopeful about what might happen after the world as we know it ends, and that is a rare pleasure. 

Originally published in 1964 under the pen name Hannah Green, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden is a bleak but beautifully-written book that has recently been reissued after some time out of print. It tells the story of Deborah Blau, 16, incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital after being diagnosed with schizophrenia. The book is a thinly-disguised autobiographical account; Greenberg spent years at Maryland’s Chestnut Lodge, where she was helped in her recovery by the understanding and unconventional therapy provided by Freida Fromm-Reichman (Dr. Fried in the book). Much of the time, Deborah retreats into her own world, with its own language, gods, and history. The book helped me to understand why a person might elect to live in their own mind, where their world, although dark, is at least within their control.

Dolores Price is one of the most honest, funny, and irresistible narrators I’ve ever encountered, and the story of her coming of age grabbed me by the heart and didn’t let go until the very last page. I found the trauma she suffers to be highly relatable, and her way of plowing through it is both admirable and heartbreaking.

I’ve read this book at least three times over the last several years, and each time, it has made me cry harder than any other book I’ve read. For me, each time I’ve read this book, it’s been an amazing, cathartic experience.