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. 

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. 

Decadent Old Shanghai was never going to survive a Communist takeover. It wasn’t easy to leave—in her family, my mother was told she was the lucky one, and so was the mother of author Helen Zia. An accomplished journalist, Zia masterfully captures what it was like for four young people—including her mother—to make the wrenching decision to leave their homes for places unknown, the chaos and distress of boarding that fabled “last boat” out of Shanghai, and what came after. The core of the story unfolds through the authentic accounts of the main characters Benny, Annuo, Bing, and Ho. Additionally, Zia uses detailed research and extensive interviews with hundreds of émigrés from all strata of Shanghai society, bringing to life this last of a generation to embark on a largely forgotten mass exodus.

Laura Madokoro offers a fascinating discussion of Chinese refugees during the Cold War as they sought protection in the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa. These historically white settler societies had long restricted or barred Chinese migration for racist reasons, so the accommodation of Chinese refugees fleeing war and persecution was never guaranteed. Indeed, even their refugee status was questioned.

The book examines the governmental, humanitarian, and faith-based actors who shaped national responses to this migration and, ultimately, determined the fates of millions of displaced people.

I was immediately drawn to this book. I knew this story. A childhood friend’s family had fled the Russian army when they invaded Estonia during World War II. So it is easy for me to believe, counter-intuitive as it may seem, that an unlikely group of Eastern European refugees would flee the advancing Russian army, hoping for safety in Germany.

I loved their “found family.” How many of us, far from where we grew up, turn to friends for support? But Sepetys’ group boards the ill-fated Wilhelm Gustloff, a German ship carrying 10,000 refugees. Based on the true story of a maritime disaster, the novel highlights how war creates victims on all sides but also how people rise to help each other face unimaginable challenges.