The best books about finding joy in dark-ass times

I meeeeean… my dude was born in South Africa to a Black mom and a white dad under apartheid when interracial relationships were illegal. He was living proof of the “criminal behavior” that could’ve gotten his mother thrown in prison, his father ostracized, and his little self dropped into an orphanage. He describes how he actually had to walk separate from his father when they were out in public so as not to cause suspicion— that’s some dark shit! Yet he grew up to become one of the funniest people on the planet, hosting one of the most popular American late-night shows ever. Whatever spiritual alchemy had to happen to make that conversion possible? Yeah. I need me some of that.

Okay, don’t laugh, but once I was watching HGTV—I forget what show— and there was a bit about countertops and why granite is such a popular choice for them. Granite is formed under extreme heat and tremendous pressure, which is what makes it resistant to both of those things. This novel illustrates, in haunting detail, how this notion applies to people. There are characters who get absolutely pummeled by challenges but keep getting right back up. They are hardship-resistant. Meanwhile, the ones who were born into comfort do not fare as well. Made me grateful for every difficulty I encountered early on in life. And the accompanying coping skills.

This book is wildly imaginative for non-fiction. It’s an account of the sex lives of (yup) three women and the very complex desires that fuel them. All were just trying to snatch a little joy for themselves, carnally speaking. And I have to believe that sharing their stories only heightened that joy. I got to know Lisa and hear about her process for collecting the material for this book (which I helped adapt into a TV series for Showtime). I’ve never met anyone so free of judgment, and so ready to understand why people do things that others find unseemly. She is a master of empathy, and I learned how powerful that can be from her and this work.

I feel the ethos of this book in my very marrow. It’s basically like, “La la-la, I’m a Black person just living my life, trying to enjoy my marriage, start a family, generally be human, but then BAM! Some seriously unjust and disruptive shit totally blindsides me, derails my entire existence, and I just have to figure out how to get back to feeling human again.” After this pandemic, I think everyone can probably relate to this to some degree. (Huh. Covid: The Great Equalizer.)

You’re gonna judge me, but I don’t care because this little book landed on me so hard. My playwriting professor, Rinne Groff, brought it into class to demonstrate the importance of giving your protagonist a clear want, and I have never forgotten it. It’s about a lonely little monkey named Bobo who just wants a hug, but all the animals he approaches in the jungle can’t really give him one because they’re too little or they don’t have arms or whatever and I just wanna be like “I will hug you, little monkey! I will hug you as long as you need!” Because if that shit ain’t a metaphor for what we all go through to find the right kind of love, I don’t know what is.