Books like Wanting — picked by fans

As someone who considers her brother her creative muse, I would describe this novel as one interested in siblings.

Between Leonie and Given, and Jojo and Kayla is an indescribable, utterly unique bond, held within and beyond both family and friendship. 

I was utterly consumed by this heartbreaking novel. From the opening scene where Pop and Jojo kill and skin a goat, to the heat in Leonie’s car and the scene of Jojo’s police cuffing, Ward delivers a pace, language, and viscerality that means you can’t look away. 

Somewhat surprisingly, I was even compelled by the book’s ghostly elements. I found they enhanced the magnitude of the characters’ burdens, especially for thirteen-year-old Jojo, who already shoulders so much.

I highly recommend this book, as a pleasure and as a duty to your fellow human beings. 

I loved the Glaswegian (quasi-Irish!) voice of Shuggie Bain, but what I will always remember it for is its gut-wrenching depiction of the consequences of poverty and alcoholism for the titular child character. 

There were times when I was reading this novel that I literally flinched from it. It’s one of the most poignant times that I can remember having such a visceral reaction to a book. 

What I found truly remarkable was the book’s sense of simultaneous inevitability and hope. At once, I felt that there was only one possible end for Agnes and Shuggie, and yet I also somehow believed that both characters would escape their miserable situation.

This idea, that hope sustains even against the most improbable odds, accesses something fundamentally human. A book that can do that is one I would recommend any day.

This was one of the first books I read at university. I admired Marie Munkara’s gruff voice and the way she delicately balanced satirical humour and dark truths.

Juxtaposing the voices of colonial guards and officers with 16-year-old Aboriginal mother, Sugar, lends this novel a messy complexity which is always compelling.

At the beginning, I found it easy to mock and deride the white colonial officers: the overtly racist Drew, the well-meaning but exploitative Ralphie, the bumbling, inadequate Hump with his mistaken ambitions of grandeur. I thought I’d figured it all out, that I’d grasped all of Munkara’s meaning. 

But as Sugar’s fate is revealed, and more significantly, she recognises the inevitability of her downfall, I was humbled. Munkara’s book taught me to look beyond the seemingly obvious characters and literary devices to the nuance within. 

I am a die-hard Tim Winton fan, but I only recently picked up The Shepherd’s Hut. True to form, Winton produced yet another Australian masterpiece: I can still call myself a Winton fanatic. 

Like always, I loved Winton’s distinctly Australian voice and setting and the delicate care with which he approached Jaxie’s character. Not a single sentence nor word is wasted; every moment is brimming with Australianess. 

The transformation of Jaxie’s remoteness to rough tenderness is where this book is at its best. In Fintan McGillis, Jaxie finally finds a parental figure who sticks by him, who leads with love, even when he’s tough, and who doesn’t leave first.

This novel defied my expectations and didn’t end where or how I thought it would. I thoroughly enjoyed embarking on this derailed journey with Jaxie. 

I love this book because it resonates with my sense of self-discovery and how society often muddles it.

It took me a lifetime of questioning who I was to finally discover the motivations behind why I was behaving in certain ways, or why I was getting involved with certain people and certain activities.

While none of what I have done in life was illegal, the sense of identity confusion remains, and reading about Malcolm finding who he is was most gratifying and inspiring.

This book gave me insights I never knew I needed.

I wanted to keep on diving into Violetta Chen-Samuels’ world and hang out with her until she taught me everything she knew about life, love, family—and incarceration. I don’t have a lot of experience with justice-impacted people, and I haven’t even read a lot of fiction about this population, so it was important to me to read this work, but discovering Baker’s near-future/alternate reality world also kept me going.

I found myself marveling over her skill and her gutsiness. I lived in Queens, where this book is set, for six years, and the sense of odd familiarity her work evokes was eerie because it’s definitely not the Queens I know. Baker’s methodology of alternating chapters between Violetta and Vince, Violetta’s brother, kept me on my toes. The sense of discovery from one chapter to the next kept me turning pages,… show more.

Melvin Konner is an anthropologist who joined the sociobiology revolution of the 1970s. Like Barash, his style is sheer pleasure. He ranges from biology and psychology to research on hormones. And his tales, his evidence, are fascinating beyond belief. They are derived from research on primitive tribes like the !Kung San In southern Africa, whose way of life sheds new light on the things you and I do every day.

Full disclosure: Anne is a dear friend and was an MFA workshop-mate of mine.

But even if she wasn’t, I’m confident this would still be one of my favorite collections. There is so much magic in Valente’s writing, in the gorgeous prose but also in the content of the stories: ghosts, pink dolphins, tiny librarians, Northern Lights.

Much of the magic is not supernatural, but just the magic of the natural world, and Valente is a master of place; I’ve always admired her use of setting. Many of the stories deal with loss, grief, and pain, but the magic acts as a way to transcend these things, which is what I aim to do in my stories as well.

Explaining Humans engagingly begins, “It was five years into my life on Earth that I started to think I’d landed in the wrong place. I must have missed the stop.”

Part popular science, part memoir, part clarion call for neuroinclusion, Pang’s book is full of sophisticated and memorable observations about humans, neurodiversity, and Pang’s own neurodivergence.

I particularly enjoyed her comparison of the teamwork between human cells (neutral, effective, politics-free!) with that of typical human collaboration…and how much it made me realize that we can all substantially improve the latter at work to get the best out of each other and fulfill our collective potential.

There is an equally strong tradition of reading Thucydides not as a historian, just interested in past events as an end in itself, but as a kind of political theorist who wanted to his work to be useful, as a guide to ‘the human thing’. Sometimes this produces incredibly crude readings of his work, such as the idea that Thucydides was a Realist who preached the power of the strong over the weak (actually those are ideas associated with people in his book), but there have been many powerful interpretations by political theorists who have deep knowledge of the text and relevant scholarship, and who can use this to explore contemporary issues of power, justice, and human motivation. I find Orwin’s account rich and thought-provoking, clearly the product of vast experience and deliberation.