Books like Where Rivers Part — picked by fans

This is a stunning debut by a talented artist.

In the memoir, the narrator grieves for her mother, and in doing so, revives her Korean self and the parts of her culture she'd rejected as an adolescent. A beautiful grief memoir that reveals the ways in which a daughter's ties to the woman who gave birth to and raised her never dissolve. In Zauner's case, one of the strongest ties is the love of Korean food she shared with her mother. She finds her way back to her mother through cooking.

The book made me think about the ways in which my mother and I connected through some third thing that created the bridge between us. 

I loved this gorgeous memoir, in part for its compelling structure—a blend of prose and poetry.

The narrator explores his grief in the aftermath of his mother's death, and in doing so, reminded me of the ways in which grief never leaves you, though it changes over time. Alexie seeks to, and succeeds in, animating his mother as the complex and deeply traumatized woman she was. Studying how he portrayed his mother gave me some new ways to think about how I might present my own.

This writer placed his very personal story of grief within the context of larger losses he experienced as a Native American man—familial, cultural, environmental. At the same time, Alexie's memoir is an ode to human resiliency. It is a memorable book. 

Given the nature of my own memoir, I couldn't resist the title.

In my book, I also sought to recover my mother and make sense of her history and the choices she made, as well as her influence on me. Cistaro alternates between past events and current ones as she comes to terms with her mother's abandonment. The book opens with the mother's leaving and ends with her death when the writer is an adult with a family of her own.

Cistaro recognizes that she will never fully understand her complex and self-absorbed mother. I found myself wondering at our capacities to fully understand another person, especially our mothers. I also thought about how the only way to work through our anger over a parent's behavior is through an effort to understand. 

This lyrical novel is told from the perspective of two characters—the mother, Genevieve, and the daughter, Elizabeth.

In her old age, the Austrian-born mother reveals the family's complex history to her American-born daughter. Though Jewish, Genevieve’s father denied that history to portray the family as Catholic. Much of the novel’s power turns on the unraveling of that history.

The book made me think about the secrets that exist within families and the ways in which people shape their histories to suit the stories they wish to believe about themselves. I thought, too, about the cost of silence within families. I was also fascinated by the portrait of Vienna, as my mother spent a number of years there during a similar time period. 

Another book that I highly recommend is Vanni. It has a brilliant mix of deft cartoon imagery and meticulously researched verbatim materials. 

Dix and Pollock recount the story of one Tamil family’s journey from war-torn Sri Lanka to a place of troubled refuge in the UK. 

Vanni’s depiction of Tamil communities, caught in the crossfire of the brutal conflict between the Sri Lankan state and the Tamil Tigers, the devastating tsunami that hits the region, and then the refugee crisis that follows is an important and necessary reportage on one of the world’s most under-reported conflicts.

A rich historical account of the experiences of Afghans living in urban Pakistan from the 1970s to the post-2001 ‘War on Terror’ period, this book provides a fascinating discussion of urban informality, what it means to belong, the role of citizenship, and the engagement and absence of the state in cities.

The book utilises ethnographic observations and interviews but also valuable archival data–raising important considerations of who gets remembered, as well as underscoring that urban refugees are not a new phenomenon. 

Ayaan is a brilliant woman who escapes the brutality of African culture to become a leader in international politics.

When I write of the African custom of female circumcision, I suspect that many doubt me. I am not African. But when Ayaan writes of her own experience, there is no doubting. Her life is real. Her challenges are real. Every hurdle thrown in her path is real.

It is absolutely astonishing that a once insignificant African woman, a woman treated by the worst of Somali customs, that such a woman could rise to the heights that she has. Her brilliance simply cannot be questioned. A huge bonus is that her writing style is truly lyrical.

Wildman’s obsession made me keep turning the pages long past when I should have been sleeping. She is a journalist, so when she discovers the mystery of a secret folder of letters from her grandfather’s old girlfriend, she sets out to discover why they were separated and what happened to his first love. 

Syrian Women Refugees is a good complement to the other books on this list because the stories that make up the book move beyond the violence, trauma, and suffering that the reader might expect from a book on refugees displaced by war. The book reads more like a story of nine Syrian women, who also happen to have been displaced by the Syrian war and to have become refugees. The women’s narratives take us into their childhood, their everyday life in pre-war Syria, and their experiences adapting to their new host countries. Through these women’s stories, which focus on topics like religion, family life, and gender dynamics, the reader gets rich cultural insight into life in Syria as well as in the host country. The reader also gets insight into the women’s own self-understanding and the extent to which war and forced displacement have impacted this understanding.

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I listened to this audiobook on my drive to and from work—and often found myself taking the long route home! Narrator Fajer Al-Kaisi brought an incredible story to the next level. This was an exhilarating five hours of blood magic, deeply nuanced explorations of axes of oppression, and queer normative, Persian-inspired worldbuilding.

One of my favorite parts of this book is the relationship between trans siblings Firuz and Parviz as they navigate trying to get Parviz access to gender-affirming healthcare. I appreciated being able to sit with this very real challenge outside of the context of the transphobia I see every day.

The love between these siblings (and I haven’t even mentioned found sibling Afsoneh!!) shines through the pages, even and especially during their toughest challenges.