Fans pick 100 books like Suspended Sentences

Josef Roth is now recognized as one of the greatest German writers of the twentieth century. As a historian myself, I was entranced by reading it by the way in which the book catches the vast temporal arc of the transformation and then fall of a society that had for centuries been a major force in European history, the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Now forgotten, this was the world of Vienna’s great resplendence, then fall.

The story is told through the generational story of one family, the von Trottas. Impending loss is conveyed alongside great affection as a whole world is lost in the disasters of the First World War. The book was first published in English in 1933. In the words of another of Josef Roth’s books, “I was there,” which he was.

Norman Lewis was what is usually called a travel writer. Today’s travel writers, however, pale beside him.

I read this book when it first came out in 1984. It describes the three summers in the late 1940s when Lewis lived and worked in a very remote fishing village on what is now called the Costa Brava. He records with utmost sympathy and acuteness of observation the last days of the old world of Mediterranean Spain before it became completely obliterated by mass tourism.

The book touched me deeply, for I had seen the last vestiges of other parts of Spain only a decade or so after Lewis. The book is a kind of monument for all parts of the world submerged by mass tourism.

This is French peasant life in its last days, a life rendered from the outside by one who became an insider.

Berger went to live and work among the peasants of the French south in 1962. This world, like that of Spain at much the same time, saw the death of the old peasantry. It is not a work of observation like Norman Lewis’s book but a series of fictional stories. It treats peasants as human beings, on an equal standing with all others in society. They have depth and gravity. Just like us all.

How awful most writing about peasants is. This stands out proudly from that awfulness. 

I treasure this book as I treasure the memory of my long-dead father, for this transcendently sad and beautiful book takes me into a world close in spirit to that of his own life. His own experience was the experience of the immigrant worker, the Irish rural one.

With the astonishing new economic prosperity of Ireland, the London of the book is no longer there. The prose of O’Grady and the photos of Pike constantly play one across the other to shattering effect. The book was made into a fine film.

Readers will note a certain interplay across my choices of books: John Berger wrote a beautiful foreword to the first edition. The beautifully produced 2023 edition is much better than the 1997 one. The epigraph of the book is from Seferis: “I whispered: memory hurts wherever you touch it.”

The first book to read on this subject. An accessible, expert synthesis of refugee experiences based on many accounts, including interviews, but focused on eight that contain extensive, significant detail (all by Paris residents, Léon Werth among them). Diamond concludes that Philippe Pétain leveraged refugees' suffering to propagandize for military capitulation and the legitimacy of his regime.

You never know who can be until you have to be that person to survive.

Women should never underestimate themselves. That was my takeaway from Mistress of the Ritz by Melanie Benjamin, a true life story about an American woman who worked for the French Resistance during World War II. 

I couldn’t help but be inspired by Blanche Auzello, a young American actress in Paris, who, as the Nazis are taking over the city, chooses to remain in Paris with her husband.

Despite the difficulties of the Nazi occupation, and the growing distance in her relationship with her husband, Blance takes on new challenges and roles she never expected to play that will forever change her life and the lives of those close to her.  

Mistress of the Ritz is the type of historical mystery that, despite knowing the outcome of the war, will keep readers turning pages and wondering...could… show more.

We all know the name of the woman behind the perfume—Coco Chanel, right? But how many of us know the story behind this legendary woman? Very few! I didn’t really know the first thing about her! Still, I loved her! In The Queen of Paris, I got to know the woman who created Chânél No.5 and designed the first “little black dress.”

And I learned why Chânél No. 5 is made in Pairs. The secret is this: because the jasmine used in making this particular perfume is only grown in France! No more spoilers! Except to say that Ewen’s Coco enticed me from the start with gossip and truths about one of the most successful women in the fashion industry—and what lengths she was willing to go to save her life’s work during WWII.

A riveting historical novel that I would read again!

This book stayed with me for days. I love color.

Susan Vreeland is also entranced by color, artistic creativity, and the transformative power of art. In Lisette’s List, the author portrays Impressionist and Post-Impressionist art by way of the fictional character, Lisette, in Provence, during WWII and the years after as France returns to ‘normal.’ She quotes Paul Cezanne, “Art is a religion.

Its goal is the elevation of thought,” Camille Pissarro, “Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing,” and Marc Chagall, “Art seems to me to be a state of soul more than anything else. Color is all. When color is right, form is right. Color is everything.”

Vreeland paints a story with words of color, of resilience, and of hope.

The thought of walking around an occupied town in France during WWII terrifies me. The prospect of running into Nazis, looking for any excuse to arrest me, is the thing of nightmares.

But my fears shrink to nothing compared to the experience of blind sixteen-year-old Marie-Laure attempting to navigate war-torn Saint-Malo from the memory of a handmade tabletop model. The strength of courage she shows in this story has never left me.

An abiding theme within my own book is that love and friendship can supplant racial and cultural differences, and this book, set in a village in France during the 2nd World War, highlights a growing and reluctant friendship between an occupier and the occupied.

The hatred that invasion induces causes any fraternisation to be labelled ‘collaboration.’ Sometimes it is. Sometimes, it is just people caught out of context seeking comfort and normality.

It is easy for those whose countries have never been occupied to scoff at the behaviour of those who had to live in the atmosphere and the reality of a hostile invasion. Let’s hope we never have to find out firsthand.