Fans pick 41 books like If These Apples Should Fall

Although I love all her novels, this one is the easiest to love and recommend (and it is beautifully translated).

Anna Seghers hated the idea of “art & politics,” as though they were separable entities to be glued together. Seghers—Jewish, Communist, especially the latter—wrote this book quite literally on the run from the Nazis, in cafés in France, on ships in the Atlantic, and in Mexico, where she lived in exile during the war. But you would never know it; it is as fluidly written as anything she ever wrote. In general, Seghers thrived in high tension situations.

It is a detective story, love story, wartime journalism, yet very little happens. Kafka’s Castle minus the parables and mysticism. It is also one of the deepest reflections on the nature of writing and narrative I know. 

Ok, I cheated (already). This is not really about art, but it is about politics. There are some essays on art, but all of it is about how badly we have screwed up how we think about politics, especially in the United States.

We think and talk—incessantly, endlessly—about disparities between groups. What this book shows, from every angle, is that this way of talking and thinking is how exploiters want us to talk and think. Sounds counterintuitive, I know.

The point is to stop talking about disparities and disproportionalities of awfulness and start talking about class inequality. The point is also to say that addressing class inequality is addressing disparities, but not vice versa. 

It is hard to describe what this book is about, except to say it is a profound attempt to think through the relation between memory and fact. Maybe the point is best summarized with the phrase, “One has to invent for the truth’s sake.”

Christa T. is Wolf’s creation and a real person, the act of writing her is an act of production, and maybe the best picture of Communism we have. Wolf is a complicated figure whose work—Marxist, feminist, deeply invested in subjectivity—is tougher and more serious about art and politics than any contemporary writer I know. 

I have to put Brecht on this list. Which Brecht? I don’t know, but I find myself coming back to the Journals more often than anything else. These record his responses to the world between 1934 and 1955, but the war years are the most gripping.

Once more, it is the seamlessness with which art and politics come together that characterizes Brecht’s achievement. Brecht is the touchstone, the rock, the ground to which I often return. Brecht’s prose—concrete, direct, transparent—has had more effect on me than any other author. I call it not just “getting to the point” but “getting it right.”

After the literature of Paris, the painting of Paris. T. J. Clark’s The Painting of Modern Life studies the ways in which the artists he calls “painters of modern life” created canvases that attempted to focus attention on a subsequent transformation of Paris, in the nineteenth century. Clark considers the depictions by painters such as Manet, Degas, and Seurat of Paris as it evolved and of Parisians interacting with their changing city. The depictions of Parisians experiencing the boulevards, cafés, and parks of Paris that Clark analyzes are perhaps the greatest tradition ever of city painting. No one has ever attempted such a study of the many paintings of Paris as it was transformed in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. When they do so, Clark’s book can provide a model.

How do creative people produce their best work? That’s the question Galenson researched as an economics professor leading to this book comparing the two major creative approaches he’s identified: Do they create by just getting started and through incremental efforts and continuous testing they feel their way until they discover what they will create? Or do they begin with careful and comprehensive plans of what they will create, beginning only when they are confident they have a full vision of what the end looks like? He studied artists—painters and poets, novelists and sculptors—but the questions he asks and the answers he frames are relevant to all creatively entrepreneurial work and he shares his thoughts about that as well. I love Cezanne’s paintings and was delighted to learn my creative process is similar to his. 

This short book is not about architecture, but about the supremely ‘architectural’ painter, Paul Cézanne, who almost literally ‘built’ his paintings brushstroke by brushstroke.

The author, Rilke, was a great poet and the book consists of a series of letters he wrote home to his wife after almost daily visits to the great memorial exhibition of Cézanne’s work held in Paris 1907, the year after his death. At first he struggled to understand Cézanne’s work, but by the end he offers one of the most profound meditations on aesthetic values I know.

His discovery of Cézanne was, Rilke declared, the most important influence on his poetry and changed his life. These letters changed mine, and I cannot recommend them too highly. 

It’s hard to love every artist – we all have different tastes – and I have always had problems with the apparently dry and academic art of Nicolas Poussin. That is, until I saw the exhibition Poussin and the Dance. Not only does it show a more relaxed side to this apparently reserved man, reveling in the fluidity and intimacy of movement, but as an exhibition it was perfectly formed. Every object, whether painting, drawing, sculpture, or vase, had a reason to be there, and each was informed by its presence with the others: a true conversation between artworks that you could enjoy and from which you could learn. And of course, the clarity of the minds which brought these exhibits together is also evident in the writing of the catalogue.

Here’s an art book I adore, filled with paintings by Maira Kalman that depict just what the title suggests: Women holding things.

Women hold so much—our children, our aging loved ones, watering cans and zucchini, schedules and lists, grief and gladness. I love how this collection of images cumulatively illustrates the weight that women bear, the joy and burden of it all. Interspersed throughout are brief, poignant reflections that frame the visual concept.

Rilke, a shy young Austrian poet goes to Paris in 1902 to write a book about Rodin, a famous and famously difficult sculptor twice his age. Not only do they become friends but the ideas they shared about art and creativity are influential to this day. Guest appearances by Paul Cézanne, Henri Matisse, George Bernard Shaw, and many other notable artists and writers.

I am an art dealer who is also a writer so I was fascinated to learn about the relationship between Rodin, a great sculptor whose work I know very well, and the young poet Rilke, whose work I knew little about. Art and poetry come from the same wellspring of imagination and both artist and poet were inspired by each other despite the difference in their age and practice.