Books like We Have Always Been Here — picked by fans

I only knew of this book because my British publisher introduced me to it. For that, I’m truly thankful. The book feels honest and unflinching and makes for a great read for both myself as an immigrant as well as for those navigating a world where immigration is a constant daily reality.

I read it over a weekend in 2020 and have read it once more in 2022. I had to return to it, especially when I was faced with microaggressions or felt unheard in my new home in Canada. 

I love the transparency with which the author describes her family, immigrants who moved to Southern California in the 1970s.

At times, she mocks her family, but ultimately, it is endearing how she describes family love and how tradition can overcome everyday life for immigrants. By including her Uncle, she depicts how much, in the Iranian culture, an extended family can be involved in everyday life. She writes with a great deal of humor, making a heavy topic seem quite light.

I read this book back in 2018. As a Syrian writer, I was feeling quite lonely at the time, singular in the publishing community. Someone told me they heard about this book on NPR, and I jumped on it.

The book is a reversal of my own story. The author, a Syrian born in the US, travels back to Syria to search for her grandmother’s home. The observations feel authentic, and the storytelling feels meaningful. I was quite engrossed by the narrative; I could barely put the book down. 

I want to end this list on a strong note: this book by an immigrant to New York felt personal to me. Navigating life in New York is a dream for many immigrants, one that, realistically, I know I shouldn’t keep, but emotionally, I’m still connected to.

Still, this book carries more than just the background of NYC, it also has such a strong case against the idea that undocumented immigrants have nothing of value for the US. After reading this book, I kinda wanted Dan-el to be my friend. 

A book I’d wanted to read for a long time, but it wasn’t until later in life I was able to get it. When I was just on the early stages of my writing career, my now longtime friend, Marty, said he had a spare copy of Cabal laying around and offered to send it to me. Marty was my writing mentor at the time as he’d been writing horror for many years previous, and his work is inspiring. So, knowing I was getting a book in the mail from my mentor, to whom I hadn’t met in person yet, was very exciting. The book itself was a tired secondhand copy (which I was told it was) yet this gave it more special meaning. Even the cover was a little torn and it was a pocket edition. So, I sat back with this little book, which I still have as… show more.

To Speak for the Trees is one of my favorite books ever, partly because I love trees, and partly because of my own Celtic heritage from my maternal line. Diana Beresord-Kroeger, a scientist in biochemistry and botany, begins with her childhood in Ireland. After losing her parents at a young age, she is raised in the ancient Celtic nature wisdom and Druid beliefs by an entire community, and literally taught the language of trees: Ogham. Blending scientific discoveries about trees and the importance of forests to our species' survival, this book is a fast and delightful read that I won’t forget. I feel enriched from having been blessed to spend time with such a brilliant woman through the pages of her book. 

Roy’s history of Kingston is a fiction writer’s dream. It is crammed with colourful anecdotes and amazing descriptions of life two hundred years ago, each one a possible starting point for a novel. This is not your dry, elementary school history; Roy’s account sweats and stinks, crackles and clangs, chews and spits. He writes of revolting spectacles such as “disfigured or putrified or naked human bodies lying exposed on the shores of the town, or kept afloat and fastened by a rope while the preparations for interment were being made.” Life in a frontier town was not for the faint of heart. 

I first discovered Charles de Lint as a fantasy writer, so I was curious to see he had written a cyberpunk novel. While it is a bit of a departure for him, I was very happy to see that he still brings in fantasy touches. I liked this book because of the animist idea of spirits interacting with our world, even when that world is a futuristic dystopia. I also liked there’s a lot of hope, especially in his depiction of the indigenous Claver society.

I loved seeing this world through Gahzee’s eyes as he journeys from his own society (which is sort of proto-solar punk) to the dystopian city, as well as between the human world and the spirit world, as he finds his “Tribe of Three.”

I can’t resist the combination of magic, music, and forests. Plus my mother grew up in Canada, and I’ve meandered along those berry- and bear-rich pebbly beaches. In this book, magic, fey-inhabited Wales crashes into modern Ottawa. De Lint’s setting and style seized my soul as a young adult reader. That yearning youngster is not only still part of me, but part of everyone, I hope.

Pastoral is one of my favorite recent discoveries. It’s one of a quincunx of novels linked by exploration of five classic literary genres—in this case the currently unfashionable pastoral. Newly ordained priest Christopher Pennant isn’t greatly pleased that his first parish assignment is to a rural town where sheep are numerous. He assumes he’ll be a suitable shepherd to the humans, people he expects to be simple and straightforward. Of course, they aren’t. They’re not only as complex as people anywhere else, but very unexpected. Father Pennant not only finds he has a self-appointed cello-playing chef as rectory caretaker, but he witnesses three possible miracles. Or are they trickery? I love the depth and gentle humor in the priest’s attempts to understand his parishioners and himself. And nature, too.