Fans pick 100 books like Flowers in the Attic

The word “visceral” comes to mind when I attempt to distill what this book is about. A not-so-fictional auto-biography opens in the slum called Paradise, where Chipo, Bastard, Sbho, Stina, and “I” are headed to the–relatively–more affluent area of Budapest to steal fruit. These dirt-poor kids don’t know it, but they are victims of the far-off, murderous regime of President Robert Mugabe–but that always remains hidden in the background. They are brutalized and never know it or know why.

Courtesy of an invite from an Aunt in the United States, the protagonist eventually escapes Zimbabwe. But once there, while things get materially much better, in reality, it is no less bewildering and bereft of meaning: she and her friends spend their afternoons watching hard-core porn while eating popcorn and discussing inane stuff, like “what the hell are they doing?!” It’s funny in parts, but it also hurts in parts. The… show more.

I found this book so shocking that I couldn’t put it down. I was so mad at Amir for betraying his friend Hasim that I didn’t believe he could possibly be redeemed. I didn’t think he deserved it. Yet, with skill and grace, the author takes us so deep inside Amir’s feelings and lingering shame that it reminded me of the times that I let someone down or said something I wish I hadn’t.

As much as I’d like to ignore my mistakes or pretend them away, this book shows me that there is always a way back to try to do the right thing. It might be hard. It will be humbling. But I am grateful to this book for reminding me to try. 

I grew up reading Stephen King, and one of the earlier titles I read by him, is Misery. When I think about isolation, danger, and being trapped in a cabin—this book comes to mind.

Of course, his number one fan, she has different ideas for the protagonist of this book, Paul Sheldon. She wants his novel/s to end differently, a different fate for the characters she has grown to love. And she’ll go to great lengths to get him to change his mind. After his car accident, she ties him to the bed and hobbles him—one of the most intense (and violent) scenes in the book. And who can ever forget her calling him a Dirty Birdie—that phrase will echo in my head forever.

Of course the movie is well done, too—a stellar performance by Kathy Bates. As the wind and ice howl outside the cabin, we are trapped… show more.

I return to this book time and again because of the captivating connection Elizabeth and Darcy share. It’s not just the tension on the surface, but it’s what goes on emotionally and psychologically with them that has me enchanted.

Austen does a fantastic job of portraying how love will sneak up on you when you’re not even looking for it, how it will push you to face the parts of yourself you’ve been avoiding for too long and to stand boldly in your authentic character while holding compassion for another’s perspective.

Every time I read this book, I feel I know the characters at a more intimate level as new fractals of their personalities and behaviors shine through.

A story of someone going missing is always something that affects me viscerally. I was drawn into the intrigue of a woman who is apparently happily married one minute, and then blood stains are found on the floor of the couple’s kitchen the next.

I loved this book because it was a who-dun-it with great descriptive scenes. It was well-written and left me hungry for it when I was forced to put it down to do my chores. A taut, gripping saga about real-life people in real settings is always something I find fascinating.

Before her mega-hit Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn penned this diabolical noir set in the deep South. It’s an edgy story, presenting a gallery of disturbed characters—including the deeply troubled protagonist, a journalist who returns to her hometown to report on the murders of two young girls.

Some books I forget a week or two after reading, others just stick with me for a year or more, and some leave bootprints in my mind forever. This is one of the latter.

I love this book as it’s about a marriage in crisis and it shows the complete power that those we love most can hold over us.

I also loved the fascinating insight into the world of tennis as both main characters are tennis coaches – and I’ve always enjoyed Wimbledon! I thought the family dynamics and the push-and-pull of who to trust and why was utterly gripping.

I also loved how the way other people see the marriage is so completely different to how Stan and Joy, the husband and wife, see it. There are different versions of truth and, somehow, the one that carries the most love is the most important of all.

King is the great American mythmaker.

When I first read this book during my miserable high school years, I learned that a writer can take the trauma of adolescence and high school and turn it into mythology. Bullies, Bible-thumpers, and that rare compassionate soul—in this novel, they become cosmic American forces as resonant as Jung’s archetypes.

You know when you first go to someone else’s house and realise that not every family lives the way yours does?

It’s part of the coming-of-age process and can be both illuminating and destabilising. In Adichie’s story, set in post-colonial Nigeria, 15-year-old Kambili gets the chance to escape her wealthy but religiously-oppressive household and stay with her vibrant, liberal aunt.

I love the way Kambili’s narrative expresses the new freedom she feels there: she has a voice at last and the liberty to experience a sexual awakening. She needs these new strengths as her own family disintegrates into tragedy.  

The experience in this book of orphaned siblings living in the streets of Lusaka is harrowing. The children’s narration of their experience is told in a matter-of-fact way which makes it more poignant because they have accepted their fate. A recommended read for anyone who likes stories about the dark side of growing up and feels like a good cry. This is because although Chimuka the protagonist is fictional; they are thousands of real Chimuka’s growing up on the streets.