100 books like Disgrace

This was one of the first novels I read in the late sixties as I began reading African writers and studying the novel form and possibilities. Chinua Achebe tells the story of Okonkwo, a warrior in the late 1800s as he tries to resist the British political and religious powers encroaching on his home. Okonkwo is in conflict with his community as they allow the intrusion and succumb to the British.

Through his proverbs, rhythmic prose, and poignant storytelling, Chinua Achebe brings to life this story without polemics and the drier narrative of history books but instead through the passion of a man and his world. As I studied how novels could affect this empathetic magic, I looked to books like Things Fall Apart.

This book was my introduction to magical realism when I studied it as part of my English Literature Degree (more years ago than I care to admit). Salman Rushdie wasn’t so well known in those days, but I fell in love with his trademark wry, dark humour straight away and ended up writing my Honours thesis about it. 

It's a stunning take on the partition of India in 1947. The novel explores those themes that always speak to me: the wielding of power, oppression, justice, and the role of the individual caught in historical forces over which they have no control. 

I read this book in graduate school at the University of Washington, where Robinson had also been a graduate student. What struck me so forcefully was how the father is killed off in a train wreck at the beginning of the novel to usher in the exploration of the female life of generations of women.

No work before made me see how a male character and tradition can marginalize female life. This novel encouraged me to focus on my mother and sisters in my own writing.

I could have picked anything by George Saunders, really. He’s the closest thing I have to a personal deity. Such is the level of awe and wonder that he invokes in me, I actually find him difficult to discuss. It’s like trying to look directly at the sun.

Suffice it to say that CivilWarLand in Bad Decline—the title refers to a failing theme park—is like all of his other short story collections. It’s beautiful and wise and heart-breaking and deeply intelligent and, yes, desperately funny. I would pay a lot of money to be able to read it again for the first time. 

This is another novel I enjoy teaching; students respond well to it. Desai excels in giving detailed domestic pictures of life in India. Here she recounts how an ungainly disabled daughter with what seems to be epilepsy and a learning disability is largely kept out of sight by her upper-middle-class family in the 20th century. The daughter, Uma, goes away with assorted other characters, finding a measure of freedom, but invariably needs to return to her parents’ confining house. At the end of the novel, she is largely taking care of them. Desai shows what we might call a “feminist ethic of care” as she writes of a disabled woman as interesting and worthy of sustained attention, which implicitly feeds into advocates’ contention of the value of all disabled people.

This collection of academic essays gives an incisive overview of the newly emergent field of literature and human rights, which I build upon in my book. Contributors include pioneering scholars like James Dawes, Elizabeth Swanson, and Alexandra S. Moore. They have chapters exploring the relationship between literature and rights, the role of emotions in the process, and more. The collection does not consider disability much, but is a good introduction for someone who wants to learn more about an exciting academic field.

Times in my life when I’ve made terrible choices, I’ve thought, while making those choices: To hell with you people, I don’t care what you think of me, I’m going to be my own person, screw appearances and reputation. Other times I’ve made terrible choices, I’ve thought: I’m doing what’s expected of me, that’s all. This collection of short stories offers a gallery of complex and warm characters, some of whom disgrace themselves via transgression, some via passivity. 

My wife and I and half of our friends have had the same experience reading this book, namely, bursting into tears while reading it on the subway. About half the stories in this collection have endings that are devastating/ecstatic gut punches, and the reason is that they are explorations of disgrace. Curtis is hilarious, but the everyday ostracizations that befall the young women in this book would tear you apart even if they weren’t funny. 

Reading this book completely changed how I think about the world around me.

Actually, I should say “worlds,” because Uexküll explores, both lyrically and scientifically, how the umwelt (often translated as “lifeworld”) of each animal is unique, likening each one to a separate “soap bubble,” each with its own particular character, but nonetheless all connected, as if in a giant symphony.

I admire those rare books of historical importance that manage to remain contemporary, and this book has lost none of its relevance since its original publication in 1934. A touchstone for major contemporary philosophers such as Giorgio Agamben, Gilles Deleuze, and Peter Sloterdijk, Uexküll’s famous foray is widely viewed as one of the founding texts of contemporary theoretical biology, biosemiotics, and posthumanist thought.

I love how Hearne—a poet, student of philosophy, essayist, and master trainer of dogs and horses—weaves together her hands-on experience working with animals and reflections on the (often uninformed) philosophical commonplaces about them: insights that could only come from someone with her unique skill set.

As the title implies, Hearne is keenly interested in the relationship between language, the mental and emotional worlds of humans and animals, and the challenges of doing justice to how those worlds do (and do not) overlap. (One essay is called “How To Say `Fetch!’”)

No one writes more insightfully—and sometimes iconoclastically—about complex concepts such as animal dignity, honor, and humor, and no one captures more beautifully how animals are unique individuals, each with its own personality.