100 books like Elowen

Westover’s memoir is a fascinating exploration of the clash between ignorance and enlightenment, with a plot twist that involves her eventually realizing she was raised in a real-life survivalist cult. Her journey from a sheltered, isolated upbringing to earning a PhD is nothing short of extraordinary.

But what really hooked me was her biting wit and the way she grapples with the contradictions of loving a family that’s as endearing as they are exasperating. It’s like watching someone untangle a lifetime’s worth of emotional knots, one revelation at a time, and somehow finding humor in the most unexpected places.

I loved this book because it is a very engaging true story, one that I have huge admiration for. To literally just walk the South-West Coast Path when you have been made homeless and one partner has been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. I found their story inspiring. When they walked, they had nothing, but by the time they finished, in many ways, they had everything. 

I was amazed at how brilliantly observant the author was in her descriptions of nature, the scenery, people, and even the weather. This book certainly inspired me to walk sections of the South-West Coast Path, and when I did, I often thought about Raynor and Moth and wondered how they managed it. I loved how their love for each other kept them moving forward together and enabled them to deal with considerable hardship. It’s a great book.  

As a guy with no children, motherhood has always intrigued me.

What does motherhood actually feel like? How does it change you? How to describe the bond between mother and child? I had questions that would be difficult to ask any mother. In this soaring memoir, Clover has answered them all for me. She has a skill to convert the most mundane into life-changing and the routine into extraordinary.

Clover’s style is engaging and intimate. She leaves no stone unturned in this ‘heart on her sleeve’ book about what it really means to be a mother.

Suicide is a grisly subject; even taboo in many cultures.

Rather than skirting around the issue, Niven tackles it in a head on collision of brotherly love. His account of drug abuse and his ‘wee’ brother’s life that slipped through everyone’s fingers is as mesmerizing as it is difficult to read. Niven’s raw honesty disarms the reader as Niven´s prose brings the deepest of human torment into stark focus.

I recommend reading this book that unearths deep truths about family, commitment, suffering, and love.

After my daughter died, I wrote her hundreds and hundreds of letters. Sometimes it felt like she was the only one who could understand me. Other times, as I struggled to put one foot in front of the other, living up to what my dead daughter might have wanted for me was what kept me going. I was still deep in my grief when I first read Song for Sarah, a memoir composed of D’Arcy’s letters to her own lost child. A dear friend asked me how I could possibly read about another mother’s grief when I was so lost in my own. The answer, simply, was that D’Arcy made me feel seen. 

Unlike the other authors on this list who mostly write about adult characters, John Saul writes almost exclusively about children (at least he has in all the books I’ve read by him). I chose Suffer The Children for this list because it was the first book he wrote back in 1977, I believe. There are some disturbing moments in it, as there are in most horror novels, so be aware of that. However, Saul is a talented author who can effortlessly get into the heads of the kids he writes about. He’s also a master of the slow-burn, building suspense page by page until the big pay-off, so if you don’t need action every other sentence, he might be right up your alley.

I read Ann Tyler for her unrivaled ability to create heartfelt stories illuminated by humor about family in all its broken splendor.

The trepidatious Macon Leary is our accidental tourist, writer of an advice column full of tips for making travel feel like staying home. He’s lost his son; his wife has left him. He’s back living with his two brothers and sister when Edward, his choleric Welsh Corgi, starts biting people. This bit of bad luck pulls him into the orbit of the irritating, opinionated, big-hearted dog trainer, Muriel, and on a journey back to a life worth living for both Macon and his dog.

Read The Accidental Tourist if your family (or certain members thereof) make you crazy. You will feel seen. (It’s also a terrific movie.)

For anyone who has been shattered by a terrible loss and could not imagine a road to recovery, this intimate, poetic, and philosophically astute exploration of bereavement, of the mental ravages brought on by the loss of a child, will be a bracing and transformative reading experience.

This short and brilliant book has forever changed how I understand what it means to grieve and to master one’s suffering—it makes you feel less alone.

Lyon’s protagonist, Lu Rile, is a struggling, ambitious young photographer, living in a derelict Brooklyn warehouse that might soon be destroyed by real-estate developers. In order to somehow pay the rent while at the same time take care of her ill and aging father, she desperately juggles three jobs. When not at work, Lu is in the midst of creating a series of self-portraits of herself in the window of her loft, when she accidentally captures the image of a young boy, the son of her upstairs neighbors, falling to his death. (Shades of Antonioni’s famous film, Blow Up, which also features a key but inadvertent photograph.)

She recognizes at once that it is the best picture she has ever taken, but instantly understands that it poses a major moral dilemma. Should she pull every string she can to get it shown, in an effort to initiate and stamp… show more.

In May of 2015, two-year-old Greta Greene was hit in the head by bricks falling from a nearby building while sitting on a bench with her grandmother. She died shortly after.

I remember hearing of it on the news and wondering how the parents and grandmother could survive such a trauma. Jayson Greene’s book tells us how. For me, it was a reminder that, even when the worst happens and we find ourselves in the dark of the tunnel, the light can shine again.

Reading this book I realized that this family made it through the same way I got through my own trauma: one step at a time, one day at a time; sometimes even just one small moment at a time.