Books like Westerly

Trust me when I say I’ve never read another story like this one!

To say Rosemary grew up in an unusual household is an understatement, and I love how her circumstances, coupled with the fact that she sees no real reason to find them odd, made me question some of my basic assumptions about family, even what it means to be a human being.

Because this story is told from Rosemary’s point of view, I enjoyed being “on the inside” and given the chance to see life from her perspective, and therefore to accept Fern, her twin sister, with no questions asked. And it’s hard not to love Fern, even when society at large doesn’t agree! 

I’m sure I’ve never laughed out loud so many times while reading a book that explores the effects of deep trauma.

What I love here is that we barely know the extent of Eleanor’s childhood trauma until the very end. What we experience instead is the increasingly interesting life of someone who doesn’t at all fit into the social world as we know it but is about as endearing in her innocence and brute honesty as they come.

The way Eleanor Oliphant sees the world made me appreciate how ridiculous so many of our social rituals can be. I rooted for her every step of the way and came away almost wishing I could wear her particular goggles when walking through my own life.

Parvati, one of two female protagonists in this extraordinary novel, is one of my favorite characters of all time.

We sense from the very beginning that she has suffered many traumas in her life, but this is not where the story lingers. I was moved by the inner strength that keeps Parvati moving forward every day, even when she is near the end of her life, even when things look grim.

What I love most about this book is the willingness of this old woman, who has every reason to be guarded, to make space for a friendship that changes everything and allows her to see, perhaps for the first time, just how very special she is.

I love this book for the courage shown by Katie, still a young woman finding her place in the world, in asking herself hard questions about a childhood incident she thought she understood.

I have great sympathy for the stories we tell ourselves for protection or out of loyalty for those we love, and it can be very difficult to separate those “truths” from less comfortable versions.

I particularly appreciated the way this book explores the challenges of memory, especially given the outsized impact of important events on adolescents. It can feel easier to “move on” and try to forget the things from our past that trouble us, but books like this one remind me how important it is to confront the truest version of our lives, and therefore, ourselves.

When I first started writing mysteries, I realized that a different approach had to be used when I wrote in a first-person point of view. Only those clues that are seen by the main character can be shown to the reader. So that might limit what I, the author, can use as clues.

In Doiron's book, the main character is in law enforcement, and he has access to methods and information that a non-LEO person can access. But despite that Mike Bowditch, the main character, often doesn't realize that he's found a clue or a key to a mystery until it almost slips out of his hands. That makes him a person I can relate to.

And I also like that he explains a lot about policies and procedures just as he decides he's not going to follow said procedures.

This is a darkly beautiful novel, set in the period after the American Revolution, a time of great hardship for many Americans. Hannah Trevor has lost her husband and three children, and she cobbles out an independent if marginal life for herself as a midwife in rural Maine. She finds love with a married man, and when he is falsely accused of rape and murder, Hannah sets out to uncover the truth. I was drawn in by Lawrence’s striking prose and by Hannah, who is strong, resourceful, and in many ways, a loner. 

I love a good sisters novel—maybe because I always wished for a sister of my own? This cast of unique and engaging characters quickly drew me into their lives as these young women with very different personalities found ways to accept their widowed dad's plans to reopen the summer camp where he’d met their mother. I also enjoy a good plot twist, and the one at the end of this book was just right, a touching way to tie everything together. This book was primarily the eldest sister Cam's story, which means more books to follow with insights into the other sisters’ lives. Have I mentioned I love sequels? Once I connect with a set of characters, it’s hard to let them go!

I love this book because it is not afraid to look at deep sadness and disappointment in an honest and complex way. This novel is a collection of short stories that all take place in a coastal Main town and are connected by the large presence of Olive.

Olive is intelligent, acerbic, and abrasive. She is anything but easy. I appreciate the compassion Strout gives her imperfect characters as they struggle with their messy lives. I grew to care more for Olive as I traveled her rocky path with her, even as she was often the one to throw down the rocks before her.

This is a quiet book, which I read in a quiet way. It brought me comfort in its illumination of uncomfortable things. 

Addiction, grief, generational trauma… all these things exist in Talty’s work. But his prose lifts all that heaviness and makes it not only bearable, but often strangely beautiful.

His characters are raw and real, and his skill with dialogue is enviable. I love the way the book is structured as a collection of linked stories, each one informing and contributing to the rest. The book is set on the Penobscot reservation in Maine, an area often overlooked both in literature and reality.

Talty is a natural storyteller, and his voice rings with wisdom, dry humor, and honesty, giving readers rare insight into this community. 

Even though Jewett wrote the stories in this book in the late 1800s, there is a timeless feeling to her prose that reverberates today.

I love Jewett’s attention to and reverence for the natural beauty that surrounds the fictional town of Dunnet Landing. Her descriptions of the Maine coastline—a blend of craggy rocks, forest, meadows, and sea—are visceral, sensory, and alluring. Jewett also nicely captures the hardworking, humorous, quietly resilient spirit of the year-round residents of Dunnet Landing, with a particularly keen and kind eye toward her female characters.

Her care for the everyday rituals of life, the small moments that make up an existence, are lovingly rendered and evocative. There’s a reason this is a Maine classic.