100 books like Lost Kites and Other Treasures

After I heard author Rita Williams-Garcia speak at a NYC book event, I knew I had to read this book, even if it was for kids. After all, in 1968, I was the same age as the main character, Delphine, and from Brooklyn, just like her. That year, the Vietnam War, antiwar protests, and the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kenedy punctuated headlines.

Delphine and her younger sisters make a trek to California to visit their estranged mother. Instead of meeting Mickey and friends at Disney, they find Mom works for Huey, Bobby, and the Black Panthers! I was impressed with the way Rita used warmth and humor to chisel out difficult social issues we still face today. I learned a lot reading this family saga.    

My loyalty as a reader and writer is to realism, and this is about as real as it gets. The narrator gets an older foster brother who comes with real complications and a backstory that’s more than a bit scary.

At the same time, the book is so full of familial love that I leaked tears from about chapter three until the end as I watched these characters try to give and receive it.

As a writer, I absolutely worship the spare, unique voice that Ellis gives her main character, thirteen-year-old Logan.

Logan is intensely awkward and reluctant to tell the whole story of how he betrayed a friend, and as a reader, that kept me turning the pages. “Last week, Bruce kicked me in the balls at Scouts, and all his buddies were there laughing, and I started crying.” What an opening line for a book for any reader who has been through that no-man’s-land of thirteen.

This 1977 novel is one of the books that made me want to be a writer, and I’ve read it more times than I can count.

I love the fact that it’s about a tomboy who lets a new friend believe that she is a boy. The historical background of the polio epidemic is interesting (and newly relevant). And I especially like that it breaks one of the “rules” about books for kids, which is that they shouldn’t include too much about the adults. But why not? Adults had a huge impact on me as a kid, for better or worse, and they’ve always interested me as characters.

This riveting American Gothic novel, set in 1865, follows a widowed Civil War Army nurse home to New Hampshire after her bloody stint of tending the wounded and sick, only to find that her beloved, but unstable, sister is dead in a fall from the roof of the asylum. The cause is ruled a suicide, but she is not convinced and determines to find the truth at all costs. The period is synchronic with that of The Abolitionist’s Daughter and the depth of research fascinated me. Blakemore’s writing and extensive attention to sensual detail is exceptional. Since I have my own yet-to-be-titled historical mystery due for release in the Spring of 2022, I loved delving into this twisting page-turner with a woman of determination in an equivalent period of history.

When my book club read this, we were universally blown away by Augusten Burroughs’ humor. Mining his tumultuous childhood, Burroughs paints a vivid and unforgettable picture of life with the ultimate dysfunctional family.

I went on to read the author’s other memoirs, and while I always enjoy his one-of-a-kind spin on the world, this remains my favorite of his works.

Anna Kavan’s Asylum Piece presents exciting stylistic possibilities for the world of “personal fiction.” The book defies easy genre categorization, but one might describe it as an experimental, thematically connected collection of autofiction. Drawing on her own experiences in a Swiss sanitarium (from which she was dispatched in 1938), Kavan excavates her psychological traumas and filters them through sequences of vignettes and short stories, conveying states of extreme emotional distress through a restrained, intensely lucid form. An unblinking study of alienation, mental disarray, and feelings of helplessness under bureaucratic control, Asylum Piece takes up a lot of space in my mind.

Because of my work with the splendidly haunted Peoria State Hospital, I have a massive soft spot for tales of struggles with mental illness. This is a topic that is very close to my heart for many reasons, and it's fascinating to read about historical figures that suffered with mental illness or mental disabilities. Rosemary Kennedy was a beautiful, lively, spirited girl who grew up in one of the most famous families in America. But due to injuries suffered during her birth, she was mentally challenged – and this did not sit well with the Kennedys. Rosemary's disability was at odds with their own image of themselves as a powerful political juggernaut ... so she was shunted aside. As a young woman, she was lobotomized, which destroyed her bubbly, outgoing personality. After this, she was institutionalized and largely forgotten. This is a painful story to read, but Rosemary, and others… show more.

In all honesty, what I liked most about this book is out of all the books I’ve read about mental illness, this one comes closest to my own book.  

It looks at the ramifications of mental illness through the gaze of a person that loves the main character. In the case of this book, it is two Asian American sisters: Lucia and Miranda.  

Lucia, like many people with a mental health diagnosis, like the character Bowie in my novel, suffers from anosognosia - a lack of insight about having a mental illness; making her oppositional to any treatment that would help level off her symptoms. Mira T. Lee compellingly describes the arrogance of ‘experts’ who know nothing about Lucia, ignoring the well-informed input from Miranda, prescribing meds that Miranda already knows from experience will have adverse effects. 

The book also examines how people with severe mental illness endure shifting diagnoses:… show more.

This classic account by a renowned sociologist is critical reading for those interested in the anti-psychiatry movement, a crusade that viewed psychiatry as more coercive than therapeutic and, in some cases, questioned the reality of mental illness itself. For one year, Goffman embedded himself in St. Elizabeth’s mental hospital in Washington, DC, where he ultimately concluded that the defining features of the asylum – similar to those of prisons and other “total institutions” – did more to shape the patient’s behavior than the supposed illness for which the patient had been admitted in the first place. Goffman’s observations left a significant impact on popular ideas about asylum care and helped contribute to widespread deinstitutionalization several decades later.