73 books like Marjorie Morningstar

I first read this book as a teenager but didn’t appreciate Louisa May Alcott’s gift for storytelling until years later, when I reread it. 

This time, I didn’t want the story to end because I’d fallen in love with the four March sisters Jo, Beth, Meg, and Amy. I laughed. I cried. Though fictional characters and separated by hundreds of years, the March sisters felt real to me, and I was a little bereft at the end of their story. 

Along with universal themes of love, betrayal, anger, lust, revenge, and death, Little Women deftly portrays each sister’s struggles and aspirations and explores the conflicts each sister has between personal ambition, familial responsibility, and wanting to embrace the unknown.  

For one brief moment, I wished I had more than one sister…and then I came to my senses.

While Moriarity is known for Big Little Lies and more recent works, this earlier novel pulls no punches in telling the story of Alice, a perpetually dissatisfied and grumbling suburban mom who lives a comfortable and privileged life but feels chronically annoyed by the daily grind of parenting, household, volunteering, and keeping up with the competition.

Readers will recognize her descent into a rabbit hole fuelled by the stresses of competitive parenting. The jokes are sharp, characters relatable and the payoff of psychological growth makes for a worthwhile read. 

Florin will make you ache for a mother’s love. She writes masterfully about her female character’s experience at a remotely insular and male-dominated elite college campus.

A coming of age and loss of innocence story, the novel is beautifully realized and thoroughly relatable–even if we didn’t attend this particular cold and icy campus, we’ve had moments of questioning our choices and have stumbled along the path before figuring it all out. 

This is mom culture at its best: Wolitzer traces the members of a clique who drop their kids at pre-k and enjoy over the ensuing years the gravitational pull of parenting, school volunteering, and part-time work.

She explores familiar dilemmas about aging, career versus family, and female friendship, while offering a sometimes heartbreaking, but always realistic, look at the choices moms face as they watch their kids grow.

An immersive, impressionistic snapshot of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, as it was in the 1920s and early 1930s, when it was known not for hipsters, craft beer, and creative facial hair but as a Jewish slum rife with yentas and gangsters. Fuchs published this book in 1934 and swiftly followed it up with two more novels, Homage to Blenholt and Low Company. The books didn’t sell, but Fuchs catapulted himself out of the ghetto and into a respectable West Coast life as a Hollywood screenwriter. Only after Fuchs had all but stopped writing fiction did these early books receive a warm reassessment from the likes of John Updike and Jonathan Lethem. Full disclosure: Fuchs was my great uncle! He was the older brother of my maternal grandfather.

What comfort library would be complete without Emily Henry?

I’ll read anything she writes, but Poppy and Alex’s love story is the stuff of my dreams. Friends to lovers, split timelines, and more yearning than I know what to do with Seamlessly blending humour and heart and set between Palm Springs, New York, Italy, and somewhere in the sedate American midwest, You and Me on Vacation was the antidote to my mid-lockdown claustrophobia.

I like to read my fluff on the treadmill – it keeps my brain more occupied than music or podcasts, so I’m less likely to remember how much I hate working out – and it was so delicious I found myself looking forward to time at the gym. A true feat.

I loved this book because it slams you in the gut, and I spent the entire time raging, crying, laughing, and loving Peter as he negotiates his first love. I loved the stellar writing, the character growth, the evocative music, and how it made me lunge for the next in the series.

Nothing Special follows Mae, a teenager in 1967, who drops out of school and becomes a typist in Andy Warhol’s Factory studio.

Transcribing taped conversations of Warhol and his contemporaries, Mae feels like she’s entered a new world – along with Shelley, a fellow typist who soon becomes a close friend. But is Shelley all she seems? This is a closely observed psychological novel exploring what it means to truly know another person, and how much we have the right to expect from our friends.

The writing zips along effortlessly, driven by Mae’s poised, ironic voice, which expertly captures the ersatz confidence of being young.  

I love that our heroine Chloe had a backbone and was able to put our hero Eli in his place and not take his crap. I also like how their road trip adventure to bring Chloe to an important ballet audition starts off with Eli blackmailing her into bringing him, and his dog, along. Eli was another flawed male lead I loved, there were moments where he’s so close to being adorable and perfect, but then he’d be clueless and frustrate Chloe—and me! I really enjoyed that Chloe was ready to forge forward on her own and Eli had to whip himself into shape to earn her!! 

My curveball choice. In the late 1970s, Stamaty drew a brilliant, phantasmagoric, visually dense comic strip for The Village Voice that captured the chaos, charm, and entropic scuzziness of Manhattan in that era. His protagonist, a bearded nerd named Malcolm Frazzle, travels on a very funny Joseph Campbell-like hero’s journey that involves a talking cow, the Zen of dishwashing, and overpacked subway cars. I’ve spent the last 40 years revisiting this compendium of Stamaty’s strips, whose every page is a loony, trippy world to fall into.