98 books like Becoming

Before the appearance of ‘franchise’ novels set in an Arthurian world, and even before the genre of ‘fantasy writing’ had established itself, the American writer Marion Zimmer Bradley published one of the most remarkable novels about Arthurian Britain and its cast of characters.

Well researched and deeply imbued with the colours of a powerfully-imagined world, the novel refocuses the events of Arthur’s life from the point of view of the women who surround him, especially Morgaine (Morgan le Fay) and Igraine, Arthur’s mother.

This was the first feminist retelling of the Arthurian story, one in which Arthur was no longer the focus of the action, and when I first read the novel I found the audacity of this inversion captivating. 

One of the central themes of this book is that in order to successfully adapt and make good decisions in today’s rapidly changing world, the ability to rethink and unlearn may be more important than the ability to think and learn. 

The author’s appeal to readers to think like a scientist and to embrace being wrong resonates with my own beliefs about the value of an evidence-based approach to decision making. Grant uses vivid and compelling, real-life examples to illustrate research-based principles to great effect. 

I love the fact that he provides “actions for impact,” specific behaviors that each of us can employ to support rethinking and that provide a roadmap for how we can apply “best processes” to our daily lives. 

When my husband left me, I was distraught and confused. I had done all I could to force myself into the box he built for me, to be the perfect wife and mother, and he still left. In the middle of my spiral of hurt and self-hate, a friend recommended this book to me, and I devoured it in a matter of days. 

In Untamed, Glennon—who also did all she could to be the perfect wife and mother before her ex-husband engaged in a string of affairs—argues for women to stop killing and abandoning themselves to win the love and appreciation of other people (especially men) and to instead claim their own power and live the life that they want to live.

This was the first book I ever read that argued, in no unclear language, that women have the right and responsibility—as all people do—to stand up and… show more.

I’ve always believed in the “Law of Reciprocity” and how it can drive resilience and holistic wealth.

The dynamics of collaboration, giving of ourselves, even when we are in a time of grief or facing a setback is important when looking at how the most successful people bounce back. Resilience also stems from how we interact with people and our relationships.

Adam Grant explores so many different facets in this book that can help to build resilience. Adam also spells out how not to be a “door mat” so if you are always a giver and always engaging in self-sacrifice then it can really compromise resilience.

Organizational culture is also important in building resilience – and it's one of the great tragedies of some organizational cultures where successful “takers” are still the most successful. The book is a great primer for individual and organizational resilience. 

Even a casual glance at today’s headlines will show how race continues to be a perplexing issue in our society. And it shouldn’t be. But we need examples of how to navigate the complexities of race and McBride’s powerful memoir shows us how.

His deep love – and appreciation – for his mother and coming to terms with her story while still standing in his own truth as a Black man is instructive and inspiring…and a reminder that there is nothing greater than love.

Without having read Between The World And Me, I would have never written my own book. I taught Ta-Nehisi Coates’s son, Samori, in middle school, which made reading this book even more impactful. Between The World And Me is just as much about challenging systemic racism and being the change one wishes to see, as it is about the profound love that exists between parent and child. Becoming a parent is one of the most transformative experiences one can have and in Between The World And Me, Coates’s love for his son, and his desire for his son to know he can change the world, is palpable. It was a powerful read both as a mother, and as an individual deeply invested in examining, understanding, and challenging systemic racism.

With polished language and measured pace, Blow tells a fascinating coming-of-age story of growing up in a small Louisiana town. As the youngest in a family of five boys raised by a schoolteacher mother, with the help of her extended family, he unveils his struggles with sexual identity and masculinity.

Men We Reaped blew me away.

Not only does Ward provide an incredibly personal and achingly beautiful glimpse of a culture I was unfamiliar with—a rural, impoverished Black community in the Deep South—but she does so with an innovative structure that simply dazzled me.

One strand of the book opens at the beginning of Ward’s life, while the other strand picks up at the end of her tale, with the most recent of five harrowing deaths due to gun violence that she and her community have endured. Each part of the story then alternately proceeds toward the same point, forwards along her childhood and backwards through each death, until both strands wind up in the middle of the story. It’s brilliantly executed. 

This is the Mother of all boy mom books. It’s required reading for anyone learning to speak boy. Equal parts despair—Lamott is a single mom who sometimes wants to leave her crying boy outside on the stoop—and equal parts gut punches of hilarious wisdom and ardor about boy life and mom devotion.

Wilkerson’s scholarship on race and injustice is certainly not a secret, but I still find some colleagues who have not yet read this book.

To convince people to pick it up, I promise that its language is poetic and imminently accessible, and I share the two pieces that have remained top of mind for years: first, Wilkerson’s research about the lessons Nazi Germany took from the racial caste system of Jim Crow United States, and second, the way she crafts an analogy of a crumbling house to make the case for reparations for racist harm, which—like cracks in the foundation of a house you just bought—may not be your fault but are still your problem.

I am forever grateful to Wilkerson for gifting us her insights and rhetorical tools, conveyed so skillfully in this tremendous contribution.