Fans pick 100 books like Now In November

First published in French and illustrated with wonderfully vivid art, this is a story of a farmer who works hard mowing, raking, digging, watering in his fields. He rejoices when things begin to grow, but a drought threatens all his hard work. The farmer is not alone, though, in his efforts, and the art shows the farm animals helping, followed by rain falling and bringing his fields to colorful and joyful abundance. Hard work matters, and so do friends.

This book is about something as disruptive to a child’s world as can be–a parent’s debilitating mental illness–and Baldwin handles it realistically and sensitively.

Twelve-year-old Della is terrified and heartbroken by her mother’s struggles with schizophrenia, and I know as a writer that Baldwin faced a huge challenge in telling this story: finding where the hope lies when, ultimately, there’s no cure for the mom.

The answer lies in acceptance and community, and Baldwin handles this in a way that feels wise, real, and satisfying to me. This book is also close to my heart because it is set in a part of the world I know and love, rural eastern North Carolina, and Baldwin describes it so beautifully.

Unlike the novels of warfare and suffering, The Moonflower Vine is an intimate portrait of family life, set in 1920s Missouri. It was a bestseller when it was first published in the early 1960s, but has since suffered neglect. But it richly rewards the reader with its heartfelt depiction of three sisters and their aging parents, whose passions, aspirations, and failures are portrayed with complex sensitivity. I don’t think historical novels have to focus on historical events – capturing the spirit of an era is just as important. And this novel took me into rural life of a hundred years ago with great generosity.

This graphic novel is based on Lucy’s real life. It’s about a girl who begrudgingly moves from her home in the city to the country to live with her mom’s new boyfriend and share a bedroom with his daughters. I love this one because when you’re a kid, so many things are out of your control, and grown-ups are the ones making decisions for you. Sometimes, kids are forced to learn a whole new way of life. Stepping Stones is a great depiction of that experience—an experience I can relate to as someone whose mom remarried and then had to move towns and schools. I love how the main character, Jen, is terrible at math but has to handle money at the farmer’s market. She spends the summer persevering through her math troubles, her embarrassment related to it, and her new family and farm work expectations. 

As the author no doubt intended, right from the first page, I took a dislike to the protagonist (he makes his weekly visit to a prostitute). It emerges that David is, in fact, a sexual obsessive, and it is not long before he is forced to leave his university professorship after aggressively pursuing and bedding one of his students. 

I was surprised, therefore, when the story took off in a different direction and ended up as a graphic and sad portrayal of the predicament of white families in South Africa recently coming to terms with black rule. The portrait that emerges is a bleak one that includes violence, dislocation, theft, and (I thought this a nice circular touch back to the MeToo opening chapters) the rape of David's daughter by a young black man. I found the book disturbing as well as compelling.

Mudbound is about post-WWII in the Jim Crow south. It tells the stories of two returning soldiers in a muddy farm setting. I was raised on a dairy farm with plenty of mud, so I easily identified with the setting. The situation of the two men, one White, one Black, and their families' struggles, physically with the constant mud, and emotionally with the politics of both the era and the place, were graphic. It was a book that was difficult to put down and also difficult to read. In ways I was reminded of 12 Years A Slave.

Divine, divine, divine! This novel taught me so much about the landscape in Appalachia. The female characters were rich and deep. Running throughout the story was the thread of women standing for farming systems that partner with nature versus male characters who want to dominate or decimate.

It was musical and mystical, and I just adored being transported to the cabin in the woods and the rich gardens of the women who knew how Mama Earth rolls. There was also a wonderful exploration of female desire. It was lush and leafy, and I’m so grateful to Barbara for writing this book

Out of the Dust was the first verse novel I read. Set during the Dust Bowl of the thirties, I was drawn into the story from the first page. I loved Billy Jo, the main character, and was impressed by Karen Hesse’s ability to capture, in so few words, the dust, desolation, and difficulty of living in Oklahoma at that time. 

This was one of my favorite books as a kid. One of the things I loved about it was that it featured a regular girl with no special abilities embarking on a grand adventure.

I could easily relate to Rose Larkin and imagine myself in her shoes. I was captivated by the simple way Rose entered the new world—stepping into her aunt’s root cellar and traveling back in time to Civil War-era United States.

As a kid, I loved that Rose brought modern money with her and that just a little bit was enough to purchase quite a lot in the 1860s. I also appreciated the little historical details, like how everyone in the past assumed Rose was a boy just because she had short hair and wore jeans.

The Root Cellar thrilled my eleven-year-old heart and was such a fun way to explore another time and place.

This exquisitely written, dark saga of family intrigue is worth reading over and over, and I do.

The protagonist’s devotion to family and the land that feed her, both physically and emotionally, is rich and consuming.

Events are seen from her point of view and her antagonist’s, giving opposing slants that generate an exquisite tension throughout the book.

This story was instrumental in my education as a writer, as was the author, both showing the use of deep interiority in every character, and a setting that made me live within the story.