100 books like Lost & Found

Michelle Zauner’s writing is rich with detail, especially descriptions of Korean foods and visits to relatives in Korea that blossom with imagery, scents, and sounds. Against the backdrop of those vivid childhood scenes and the food shopping and eating scenes, the story remained vivid as her mother succumbs to cancer.

Two themes struck me throughout the book: Michelle’s father is Caucasian American, her mother is a Korean immigrant, and M. struggles to find her place in either culture. Her youthful rebellion against her mother’s over-protectiveness and very Korean-ness becomes painful to face as her mother is sick and dying.

I was deeply moved as Michelle came to accept her mother, forgive herself, and embrace the family and culture her mother had given her.

Come on, we who slog through loss need a break from other people’s grief. I offer The Cruelest Month as one of my favorite L. Penny books in which to escape.

I escape to the façade of the idyl of Three Pines. Smell the brioche from Gabri and Olivier’s Bistro, dodge an insult from Ruth walking her duck. Despite betrayal and mortal danger, Inspector Gamache is sure to prevail. I need these people.

Death is complicated by human emotional frailty in The Cruelest Month as death is in “true” life. The séance at the evil Hadley House offers hope, for some, of bringing back lost souls. I too sometimes yearn to bring back my wandering souls. Penny has talent with phrasing, braiding of stories within the story, and professorial knowledge of the arcane. All a break from “dealing” with the mire of loss.

“Bat shit is patient.” Simple, clear, dead on to describe the crazy life-clowns that leap from dark corners as I fend off grief... loss.

I Was Better... may not be a “grief” book, per se, but Fierstein dances us through the fears, struggles, and losses in his journey to live a life he wants. His quote, “Look back, but don’t stare” felt as though he quoted it for me to help deal with many joyous and painful memories of my husband.

I Was Better... is a tropical island where I could escape the squalls of my life of loss. I relished his musicals, strode the flamboyant streets of New York, and was embraced by Fierstein’s poignant and dearly funny honesty. His rage against the night was mine too. He and I kept dog paddling – together.

Loss and grief torpedo inner peace. Dogfulness is a tap on the head that reminds me I can rest on islands of serenity.

Loss makes us hold on, to grip. My dog flops down and goes Zen. Instead of pacing through the minefield of my mind, Dogfulness urges me to go for a walk. This book nudges me to “travel hopefully.” Like my dog, every walk is a good walk.

Simple, brief, golden peace filled quotes and reminders. Dogfulness gives me permission to be more present each day. To enjoy acts of kindness, mine, and others towards me. To allow the promise of giving and receiving love again.

Words of support don’t have to come from long, dreary memoirs, airy-fairy self-help books, or “You think you are suffering? I’ll see your tragedy and raise you one” best sellers. Respite can come from a dog.

This book sits at the center of my heart. It is personal, vulnerable, and incredibly moving.

It follows Pustata’s relationship with her mother who struggles to acknowledge her daughter’s queer identity. As children of survivors, it’s about the boundaries we must articulate to survive ourselves and the hope we must keep in the secret parts to leave space for transformation.

Her sensitivity and strength are always in conversation with each other and always equally felt.

Like the cry of a caged animal, this book reminds me that the systems in place aren’t working, but more than that, it points to the open cage door, offering me the option of a different way of living. It is a wake-up call and a deep, nuanced examination of what makes life worth living.

Glennon is not only a deep thinker but also quick as a whip; nothing escapes her. Her insights are priceless and sharp and cut through the densest of binds.

This book sits on my shelf as a daily reminder that my life is my own, and living it fully and outwardly as the most honest version of myself is the way in which I can create the greatest impact with my time on this earth. 

This story is the memoir of a very butch lesbian, which is an identity that juxtaposes very oddly and awkwardly against how our culture thinks of motherhood and pregnancy.

This tongue-in-cheek depiction makes for a clever skewering of the tension between one's internal identity and the perceptions of others, and the complexities of stepping outside the identity role that one has chosen to occupy. 

This graphic novel which was first serialized on the platform Webtoons, takes place in the near future. People are able to alter their physical appearance using new technology. Most people do use it, except for some who have “Egan’s Syndrome” which means they are too sensitive to modify their bodies in this way.

Sunati finds herself attracted to Austen, a young woman who lives her life “unmodded”. It’s actually a very sensitive love story told with some really stunning artwork.

Anna Birch’s I Kissed Alice is an enemies-to-lovers story about two gifted artists, Rhodes and Iliana, at a school for the arts who despise each other in person but fall hard for each other’s online fanfiction personas. Rhodes’s depression and anxiety consume her in the race to win a prestigious scholarship and navigate a complicated dynamic with her alcoholic mother. I found Rhodes’s on-page therapy sessions incredibly refreshing and relatable, something I don’t see enough of in YA fiction. The characters in this story are unlikeable and flawed—extremely so—but for that reason, my heart clenched often at their actions, assumptions, and reactions. Bonus points for the beautiful fanfiction graphics illustrated by Victoria Ying.

When I want a historical romance that knows exactly what it is and how to hit the right notes with each of its tropes, I turn to Erica Ridley.

Take the opening conceit of The Perks of Loving a Wallflower: It felt so familiar to read about a shy heroine who has a secret group of bluestocking friends and who is trying to avoid her parents’ matchmaking schemes.

From there, however, Ridley uses the conceit of a missing cipher to match Philippa with Tommy, a master of disguises and rejecter of labels.

Through a very fun, comforting historical romance plot, we get to explore gender roles, identity, and class snobbery.