Books like What Comes Next and How to Like It — picked by fans

Even though the marriage in Oh William! ends in divorce while my marriage ended (without my consent) in my husband’s untimely death, the book brought me back to the unconventional nature of my marriage. Elizabeth Strout’s uncanny ability to say much in a single sentence had me traveling back in time and heart to the many moments that made our marriage. The tendernesses and fears, the deep trust and insecurities that quietly but forcefully bound us together made up the subtle mysteries of our uncommon relationship. What makes people move apart yet remain forever close, as in Lucy Barton and her ex-husband, William, or what holds two people together when there are many factors that might drive them apart, as in my marriage? These questions made reading this book a thought-provoking and enriching experience.

I love the grittiness of this—an account of a walk along the South West Coast path, when terminal illness and poverty haunt the walkers and everything is in a state of flux.

It doesn’t glamorize the walk; it’s often uncomfortable with lots of biting wind and pouring rain. At times, there are even threats from others they come across who are sleeping rough. Overall, it’s a description of nature at its most raw and authentic.

Although we glimpse moments of inspiration and beauty, I like the fact, as well, that it doesn’t have a big, blowsy Hollywood ending—at the close, the future appears uncertain, although there is a definite sense that a new energy has been discovered.

It ends on a simple, perfect moment as the author describes her and her husband as “lightly salted blackberries hanging in the summer sun” and adds significantly that’s “all that is… show more.

As I entered the strange new territory of grief and a solitary life after 37 years of an unconventional marriage, I found myself looking for solace from authors who could show me the way forward. Martha Cooley’s retreat to a small, medieval Italian village brought the first tentative smiles to my early months of grieving. My husband and I shared a love of Europe and stayed in our own medieval village in Tuscany just a few years before he died. Cooley used her retreat to deal consciously but gently with the many deaths she’d faced over a traumatic ten years, as well as the impending death of her mother. Her reflections related to mortality and carrying on after the loss of loved ones were a comfort as I began to confront the uncomfortable challenge of stepping into a new life without my husband and best friend. 

I absolutely loved this book and could have finished it in 2 sittings! But I wanted the book and the author’s journey to linger, so I paced myself. It’s one of my favorite travel memoirs ever. 

I have traveled to Europe many times and love it more each time I visit, so when I was taken with the cover, I was eager to share Steinbach's adventure. Sometimes I’ve traveled alone and know how lonely it can be. Being with Alice was a pleasure. I loved her voice and instantly felt like she was my friend. I’d been to all the places she visited and loved going back with her.

When I finished the book, I felt as if I was returning from a trip. Beautifully written.

I’m a sucker for a book that asks big questions, and this book does just that.

Shapiro investigates a family secret that she uncovers by chance, prompting her to probe topics that I find fascinating: How does heritage impact identity? Do we really know our parents? What happens when the world one knows is turned upside down?

I was drawn to this book because Shapiro doesn't just tell her story—she uses it to interrogate decades of secrecy in fertility treatment, and I couldn't stop thinking about other lives that were shaped by those silences.

When I finished this book, I picked up the phone and called my mother—I wanted to dig into my own heritage and ask questions about branches in our family tree that seemed askew.

The second of Ferrante’s four Neopolitan Novels is a gripping portrayal of the hardships faced by women who grew up in Italy in the 1950s and ‘60s.

The novel is packed with romantic liaisons, incidences of family violence, and the many hurdles that Italian women had to face in forging careers independent of their families. The detailed rendering of a complicated friendship between two women who disappointed each other at times shows how hard women in working-class Naples had to struggle to find their paths.

Being from a big family myself and facing many hurdles before finding my voice, I could relate to the characters in this book and Ferrante’s subsequent novel, Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay Behind.

This memoir and Evaristo’s Booker Prize-winning novel, Girl, Woman, Other, opened my eyes to the struggles of writers and actors in the UK—especially women of color and immigrants—as they tried to find their voices and places and in literary circles.

Raised in a big family by a Nigerian father and British mother, Evaristo describes her upbringing and her efforts to find her voice when there were few venues for writers of color. Her theory of unstoppability is deeply inspiring for anyone who faces roadblocks in pursuing their passions, particularly writers who experienced the sting of multiple rejections before having their work accepted.

This is a quiet first novel that deals directly with writers’ struggles to find their voices and places in the world.

The main character, an aspiring writer who works as a laborer to pay for classes and for entrée into the literary world, falls in love with a poet who has already won acclaim and doesn’t have to take menial jobs that distract her from her real passion.

Both characters struggle to find their voices and make their ways as writers in a country that doesn’t offer public funding to aspiring artists and writers. Both opt to live modestly in order to pursue their chosen career paths, and ultimately find that they must consider their own career above the other’s.

I absolutely love this story and the painterly illustrations in this book. It’s about a family that befriends a stray dog in the park and names him Willy. After thinking about Willy all week, they decide to go back to find him. It’s a heartwarming story with little moments of humor and joy, one that I come back to again and again.

Jules wrote this book in 1965, so it certainly doesn’t reflect the latest scholarship. But as probably the first critical history of the Golden Age, it’s a valuable read—and a lot of fun! Jules gives a real sense of what it was like to be alive, in New York City, creating these great works.