100 books like Children of the Sea, Vol. 1

This is one of those graphic novels where the drawing style completely matches the harrowing events of being a comfort woman (cw rape) for the Japanese Imperial Army during World War II. Maybe I’m biased as a Korean-American who gets emotional watching Asian elders suffering before my eyes, but every five pages, I have to stop and take a deep breath.

I learned so much in this book than what we were ever taught in the American education system. It’s a gift to have the story of a real former comfort woman told like this. I’ll treasure this book forever.

Everyone I love who’s seen my shelf knows how much I love this picture book. I adore the simple ink drawings; it’s all I need to understand to story.

I never expected a 32-page book to break me like this. It makes me want to hug my cat Marlie and never let go (to her annoyance). To me, it explained life and death so perfectly—when one goes away, another comes into our lives.

Ever loved a book series so much that you got it permanently etched on your skin? (That’s me) Punpun, the titular character seen to readers as a line drawing of a bird, has one of the most broken families I’ve ever read about. Still, I found solace in his life. Ending the series (even though I couldn’t sleep that night) I wanted to go back and start again just to see how much he has developed.

Most of the characters are pretty unlikeable which makes them realistic. Even with the way Asano draws them, you’d think he’s pretty pessimistic about the overall human spirit too. I will say that this book has nearly every trigger warning I can think of, so be careful.

My god, the cover picked me up so quickly, and the story is just as beautiful as that painting. I think about everyone I’ve known as a child, what they might have been going through in their lives, and how they evolved as adults, just like me.

To hear about a friend who took their own life and realize that what you have seen over a decade ago had something to do with it is so gut-wrenching. It makes me want to back and hug every sad kid I was friends with. Huge trigger warnings for rape and suicide.

I love Edgar Allan Poe. His stories are so visceral and yet so simplistic in their scares. Of all of the stories by Poe, however, I think this book was a bit of a sleeper agent for me. It wasn’t until COVID-19 happened that I really saw how terrifying this story really was.

The idea of the rich hiding out from a plague that’s destroying the world was much too relatable in 2020. Just like in other titles in this list, the actual ghost itself isn’t necessarily what’s scary. It’s what the ghost represents. Not just death but pride, privilege, selfishness, guilt, and apathy.

Re-reading this book back in 2020 was an experience much too understandable, and it really scared me in a way it hadn’t before. The message Poe was trying to convey stuck with me in a new and horrifying way.

I came across this anthology in my local library in the late 1980s or early 1990s. It is a real treasure trove of classic Christmas ghost stories from giants of the genre such as Dickens, Le Fanu, Peattie, Blackwood, and Nesbit. As an added bonus, it contains M. R. James’ only story actually set at Christmas, The Story of a Disappearance and an Appearance. One thing that I liked about this anthology was that it collected together stories ranging from the Victorian era through to what was then the present day. Although I never owned a copy of my own, it became an annual tradition to reserve it and borrow it from the library to read over the Christmas period. Now living in Japan, it has been several decades since I last read it. Despite the stories being available in many anthologies, this seems a perfect collection, and as… show more.

Both the Italians and the Japanese are obsessed with food, and I’m an Italian living in Japan. You do the math. My first shocking encounter with sushi notwithstanding (I mistook wasabi for some kind of green mayonnaise) I love Japanese cuisine, and anime stories are full of people eating all kinds of food. 

If you have found yourself watching an anime and wishing that you could taste a particular dish, with this book you can go one step further: you can make it yourself. Here you will find simple but detailed instructions on how to make lots of Japanese dishes, and their connections with a particular anime title. I wish I owned this book when I first entered Otakudom. 

So many people come to Japan hoping to see the twisty streets lined with traditional wooden houses and little manicured gardens and feel a bit let down when they realize how much of it has been lost. I was (and in a way still am) one of those people.

Earthquakes, war, and a love for the new have caused much of the Japanese landscape to lose its traditional views. While at some points a little out of date, Kerr has a wonderful way of capturing the beauty of the old and how the new has taken hold. This is not an uplifting book, but it does give a wonderful insight into some of the more closed worlds within Japanese society, as well. 

A beautiful and touching account of the author’s travels in early 11th century Japan. Lady Sarashina is deep in sorrow from the death of her husband and searches for solace in nature and place on pilgrimage routes and at temples along the way. This is a profound weaving of mind, journey, and place, as she travels across the 72 seasons of Japan’s year. Emotions link land and mind. She is acutely attentive to cuckoo calls and cherry blossom, the rain pattering on bamboo at night, the cool water in the stone well. “Even as I wander on my journey,” she writes, “It always stays above me in the sky, this moon at dawn, this moon I gazed on in the capital.”

I know nearly nothing about the Far East—so was delighted to experience a taste of Japan through this compassionate, original novel told from the point of view of young American nurse, Diana, as she takes the job of nanny to the toddler Yuki, after divorce has forced Yuki’s mother from the family home. Immersed in a different culture, Diana feels confusion, fascination, and a growing love for Yuki. The tension builds as she begins to understand the real danger the child is in. Diana faces psychological peril as she tries to break the chain of damage for Yuki—and herself. As a mother of three, I often can’t bear child jeopardy in a plot, but the author’s intelligent writing is compelling and sensitive, not gratuitous.