The best comfort books to break you out of a reading slump

What comfort library would be complete without Emily Henry?

I’ll read anything she writes, but Poppy and Alex’s love story is the stuff of my dreams. Friends to lovers, split timelines, and more yearning than I know what to do with Seamlessly blending humour and heart and set between Palm Springs, New York, Italy, and somewhere in the sedate American midwest, You and Me on Vacation was the antidote to my mid-lockdown claustrophobia.

I like to read my fluff on the treadmill – it keeps my brain more occupied than music or podcasts, so I’m less likely to remember how much I hate working out – and it was so delicious I found myself looking forward to time at the gym. A true feat.

There’s no one better at building a rich, cosy world than Towles, and this is some of his best work to date.

Blame my lifelong preoccupation with the Russian revolution and desire to be a housebound recluse, but a book where our protagonist is a member of the bourgeoisie under house arrest in a once-glamorous hotel in Bolshevik Russia, slowly building a family of misfits and discovering unromantic love – well, I can’t think of anything that speaks to me more.

I came across this book at a particularly stressful time in my life when anxiety would fuel insomnia, and I’d often sit awake, inconsolable, for sometimes thirty hours at a time. A Gentleman in Moscow, with its delicate prose and ambling observations, was a balm.

I’d sit in bed with a cup of sleepytime tea, calming oil hissing out of my scent diffuser, soft piano instrumentals playing through a speaker, and a strict no-screens-after-six-pm rule, and get lost in the corridors of the Hotel Metropol until my brain registered that we were safe. Now every time I see it on my shelf, I smell lavender and feel at ease.

While not exactly a light read – it contains adult explorations of trauma and violence – Purcell’s writing is drum-tight and entirely absorbing.

This book broke my months-long reading slump and writer's block, reminding me that all it takes to fall in love with stories again is one really, really good one. I’m not much of an annotator, but the pages of my copy are splattered with pen, most often exclamation marks and underlines and obscene exclamations of enthusiasm and grief.

Split between multiple perspectives, locations, and decades, The Lessons is a heart-wrenching romance without fluff, tropes, and suspended disbeliefs. A story of expectations and disappointments, promises and betrayals, it’s full of sharp observations about writing and writers, social constructs, and human behaviour.

I devoured it in days, and can’t wait to forget all the details so I can come back to it and fall in love all over again.

Someone call the police, because Heisey has broken into my brain, looked around, and written a story containing every thought I’ve ever had.

There’s nothing quite like feeling seen on the page to make you feel less alone as you flounder, break down, circle the drain, and look down the barrel of total oblivion, and it’s a rare privilege to find a story that does all of this with wit and warmth.

The term “sad girl lit” gets thrown around a lot, and while no one could accuse protagonist Maggie of being happy (or content, or even stable), Heisey resists the sinkhole of self-pity and exhausting melancholy that so often turns books in this niche into a chore.

Self-destructive yet self-aware women who make all the worst decisions and come to their own rescue – unite!

A master of the flawed and loveable heroine, O’Donoghue’s writing is both deeply comforting and immensely frustrating – because every wry observation is so relatable I can’t believe I didn’t think of it first.

Exploring life in GFC-era Ireland through the wide eyes of a broke, experience-hungry university student and floundering graduate, this story is a tribute to friendship, self discovery, and all the missteps of newfound freedom.

The deeper into the story I went, the closer I felt to my eighteen-year-old self: naive and desperate not to be, nervous about the power in the currency of youth and eager to spend it, full of love and pride and optimism.

I can’t wait to get my hands on a physical copy so I can slap sticky tabs on every page and recall every sparkling insight, quippy conversation, and touching moment.