The best books on the beauty and terror of being alive

This is a book you wouldn't want to lend to a friend, but you might want to buy it for a friend! It’s a genre-defying memoir of a grieving daughter that I found inspirational and validating in the wake of my own parents' deaths. Helen MacDonald loses her father and embarks on a journey to find, adopt, and train a goshawk, one of the fiercest and most feral predators on Earth...a remarkable metaphor for her own wild grief.

As her relationship evolves with the goshawk, Mabel, they learn together the beauty and terror of being alive. I found great inspiration here because it taught me that you can talk about hard things in a lyrical, uplifting way, leaving your readers to soar on the last page, not jumping out of windows. 

I bought this because 1) I loved Le Petit Prince, 2) I had no idea that de Saint-Exupery was a pilot and disappeared over the Mediterranean in 1944, and 3) I thought it might give me a window into what my own late dad found in flight and that it might bring me closer to him in a way.

I was not prepared for the excruciating, almost sacred, tenderness of his thoughts on the nature of earth and sea, war, life, death, and the entire human enterprise. If your spirit has ever yearned or fluttered at such thoughts, there is salvation in these essays. Wow! His final essay on Barcelona and Madrid is luxurious beyond words. It took forever to finish it because I regaled myself on every sentence.

Billed as YA lit, don’t let that stop you. It is an auto-fictional account of a young boy refugee from Iran who suddenly finds himself in the middle of Oklahoma: malls and milkshakes. I was in fits of laughter throughout because the narrator's voice is so unique and charming, a much more optimistic Holden Caulfield. But the themes can also be hard, and therein lies the magic.

I loved the unique story structure of telling his stories in the format of 1001 Nights. This validated my own choice to structure my book in the format of The Little Match Girl, striking matches in a snowstorm. I loved this book for its swirl of myth, magical realism, and family stories that weave seamlessly through a modern-day exploration of refugee identity and belonging.

The railroad worker and the interpreter; The Hong Kong beauty/midwife and the fishmonger’s daughter; the Kung fu master’s family turned tong bosses and the civic leaders and charity organizers; the merchants and the opium dealers; the church ladies and the rice wine hooch brewers; the lofan (white) Aunt Elva with a painful secret….

These are some of the unforgettable characters from Chin’s sprawling family. I loved this glimpse into the Chinese American experience in New York City during the same time my family was muddling through in Georgia. I also have reason to believe my grandfather knew some of these characters personally through his correspondence and Chinese liberation work. Chin did honor to all of the ancestors with this skillful weaving of history, memory, anecdote, and a daughter/granddaughter’s loving intuition.

This book was a Rosetta Stone to my own life and, ultimately, my book. In it, Blackie describes what I had been engaged in doing ever since my parents died, without having the "lingo" to talk about it. In other words, Blackie didn't show me what to do here so much as alert me to what I was doing. And once I understood what I was doing, everything clicked into place about why it mattered.

My own book then came into clear focus. This is a lyrical prescription for moving more beautifully in the world that many of us may have come to see as ugly and well-lost.