100 books like Begotten

This retelling of the Book of Hosea reminded me that love is meant to be unconditional. Patient, healing, hopeful. No matter what Angel does, Michael loves her. I read this entire book in less than two days. I laughed, I cried, and while I couldn’t put the book down, I dreaded closing the cover for the final time. I had a book hangover for days.

If I could choose one book to reread for the first time, it would be this one. I haven’t experienced things that these characters have, but this story still inspired healing and sparked hope. It broke me and put my back together. I walked away with a clearer view of how much God loves me and the lengths He will go to prove it.

This book contains tough questions that I have struggled with in the past like, “Why would God allow this to happen?” “Does God see me?” “How can God use this for His glory?” I found comfort in these pages. I learned the struggle of many during the Jacobite uprising—something I knew precious little about, and I have Scottish heritage!

Laura always transports me into history, and I love how she combines stories of struggle with hope. I always walk away from her books with new knowledge of history and encouragement for my own life. Besides, I can never say no to a good romance!

I will read this book any time I need a good cry. Roseanna combines mystery and utter heartbreak, and I just couldn't get enough. I felt like I was in Gemma’s shoes as she dealt with a loss I could never imagine. I could hear Graham’s heart shatter as everything he once believed in dissolved.

I love books that make me FEEL, and I don’t shy away from hard topics. Among all the pain, these characters discovered forgiveness that never falters and love that never fails. I have so much love for this story. Weeks later, I’m still not recovered, but I would read this book over and over again. 

A slow-burn story is great, but one mixed with regret and hope? Sign me up! I couldn’t imagine living through the trials and expectations that young ladies had to bear during the Regency era, but Julie gave me a pretty good glimpse through this English countryside window.

I felt compassion for some of these characters and anger toward others. The pain and betrayal felt so tangible that my own heart hurt. I feared for the life of more than one throughout the entire book, and I successfully cost a friend a good night’s sleep after recommending this one to her. I believe that the love and hope found in these pages can be found in real life, too.

This is a much-needed antidote to the navel-gazing tendencies of American criminal justice thought.

Reading contemporary treatments, you might almost be fooled into thinking that certain types of police controversies have a specifically American – or at least modern – origin. They don't. In fact, the peculiar challenges of policing and its inevitable discontents might even be universal.

Certainly, they were present at an early stage in medieval Italy, long before the first English "bobbies" ever dawned a uniform. Use-of-force controversies, weapons prohibitions, reluctant witnesses, hostile crowds, simmering beefs among local gangsters: it's all here. Roberts' medieval world so eerily resembles our own when it comes to law enforcement that one ends up surprised to encounter any differences at all.

Here's one, though: medieval town dwellers did not have cell phones with which to film the cops misdeeds. Instead, they hollered for notaries to scribble records on the spot.

I don't think there is an author who hasn't at least once wished that he was the one who wrote a book by another author. Ever since I first read Umberto Eco's masterpiece, I wished I had written it. That wish only intensified whenever I reread it—and I did it many times. It is a perfect novel by all standards. It is a superb literary work based on storytelling virtuosity and a colossal erudition.

The detective narrative drive is a background of the main theme—how the Renaissance was borne. No other novel in the history of literature has managed to depict a long-gone century in such an impeccably authentic way. Among many authors who influenced my writing, Umberto Eco is certainly the most prominent.

If you’ve ever fantasized about restoring a crumbling medieval Italian villa, then you’ll get to live that experience vicariously through this memoir.

The author has a wonderful sense of the absurd as she recounts her family’s multi-year efforts to turn a roofless villa into their dream home, complete with a complicated teenage daughter who is trying to find her way in the rural Italian countryside where the family has been transplanted.

Brimming with idiosyncratic and endearing characters. 

Waterfall takes a 21st-century girl, Gabriella, and mysteriously places her in medieval Italy. Gabi’s journey is unexpected and exciting! While the title might be misleading, you won’t be disappointed when you’re introduced to this teenage girl who’s grown up with archeologist parents learning how to wield a sword. Finding herself in the fourteenth century, Gabi literally lands in the middle of a battle, she meets a knight-prince, and her summer has only begun.

One of the smartest books I’ve ever read portraying a woman in a “man’s job” in medieval England. Adelia is trained in Italy as a ‘Mistress of the Art of Death,’ a precursor to today’s medical examiner.

She’s brilliant and brave, and she engages in repartee with Sir Rowley—King Henry II’s tax collector and love interest—that has me turning the pages eager for their next encounter. This is a smart, funny, well-researched thriller that I return to every few years to reread. 

The medieval images that survive today might seem like simplistic or bizarre pictures now. But medieval viewers saw them differently. They treated images as tools for understanding, analyzing, and remembering complex ideas about the world.

Bolzoni works to crack that “code” through the case of late medieval Italy: she illustrates how viewers’ relationships to images changed the more they learned, how preachers communicated with their congregations in ways that listeners would visualize and internalize, and how certain images—like six-winged angels or trees of life—served as effective conduits of information but also as platforms for layered conceptual associations that got increasingly sophisticated the more that authors and audiences thought about them.

This beautiful, fascinating book is well worth seeking out from a library or used bookseller.