Here are 100 books that The Celestial Realm fans have personally recommended if you like
The Celestial Realm.
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I’m a novelist, essayist, and journalist who’s written extensively about the problems and consolations of faith, about belonging in and out of faith, and about the tribes of what I think of as the In Between. When you’re in between, you’re neither in it nor out of it, whatever “it” might be for you. You bear an “infinity of traces,” as the writer Antonio Gramsci called these formative influences. My first novel looks at these influences directly, while my second one looks at them indirectly. I’m late in the game with a third novel now—a detective story that investigates a murder along with these same themes.
Indispensable. And the scandal of this autobiographical novel hasn’t worn off in a hundred-plus years. Stephen Dedalus is our young man, the self-appointed artist-priest. We see turn-of-the-century Ireland through his eyes and Irish Catholicism, too, each with its special richness and oppressiveness. Ultimately, it’s Stephen’s desire to escape "these nets" that drives his story. He’ll find God in his own way or, failing that, replace him with Art.
A masterpiece of modern fiction, James Joyce's semiautobiographical first novel follows Stephen Dedalus, a sensitive and creative youth who rebels against his family, his education, and his country by committing himself to the artist's life.
"I will not serve," vows Dedalus, "that in which I no longer believe...and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can." Likening himself to God, Dedalus notes that the artist "remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails." Joyce's rendering of the impressions of…
I’m an Irish writer drawn to the ways in which the biggest questions – of human nature, existence, late capitalist realism, politics, ethics, and consciousness – play out via the minutiae of specific locations; in this case, the city of Dublin, where I’ve spent most of my adult life. I don’t think of cities as monuments but living and complex microcosms of concerns and urgencies the whole world shares.
McGahern is famous for writing slow-burning accounts of life in mid-century rural Ireland.
The Pornographer, however, is about a lonely bachelor who writes porn in his suburban bedsit then gets the bus into town to seduce women in gloomy dancehalls. He makes one of them pregnant and a battle of wills begins: he thinks she should obtain an abortion, she thinks they marry. This is remarkable because it is set in 1960s Dublin, a time and place in which the Catholic Church reigned supreme.
The book’s depiction of a night-time city composed of grimy pubs and starchy hospital wards is unforgettable, but its fascination for me lies in the protagonist’s casual cruelty towards his lover: this was what I had in mind when developing Cormac, the protagonist of my book – a passive, affable, but ultimately detached man who wreaks emotional havoc by accident and reflects a very Irish, still…
One of the preeminent writers of our time, John McGahern has captivated readers with such poignant and heart-wrenching novels as Amongst Women and The Dark.
In The Pornographer, Michael creates an ideal world of sex as a writer of pornographic fiction, while he bungles every phase of his entanglement with an older woman who has the misfortune to fall in love with him. But his insensitivity to this love is in direct contrast to the tenderness with which he attempts to make his aunt's slow death in a hospital tolerable. Everywhere in this rich novel is the drama of opposites,…
From an early age, I was steeped in stories. My mother is a great storyteller and would tell vivid and exciting stories of her childhood, giving me a great sense of my own life as a part of the story of generations. We moved around a lot for my father’s job, which was sometimes disorientating and could lead to loneliness, and I took refuge in libraries and in writing stories of my own. By the time I left school, literature was my big love and mainstay, and I took a degree in English and later taught it in schools. Reading and writing stories has since become my life.
I was engrossed by this beautifully written book about the way that things that happened in a previous generation can affect one’s happiness without one even knowing about them.
I totally identified with protagonist Veronica as she looks for clues as to why her brother committed suicide by imagining scenes from her parents’ past.
When I registered the subtle moment that was crucial to it all, everything fell into stark and terrible place, and it took my breath away. Both witty and sad, the book left a deep impression on me.
'Witty, original, inventive...utterly compelling' Daily Mail
Winner of the Man Booker Prize
The nine surviving children of the Hegarty clan gather in Dublin for the wake of their wayward brother Liam. It wasn't the drink that killed him - although that certainly helped - it was what happened to him as a boy in his grandmother's house, in the winter of 1968.
The Gathering is a novel about love and disappointment, about thwarted lust and limitless desire, and how our fate is written in the body, not in the stars.
'It is clearly the product of a remarkable intelligence, combined…
Tap Dancing on Everest, part coming-of-age memoir, part true-survival adventure story, is about a young medical student, the daughter of a Holocaust survivor raised in N.Y.C., who battles self-doubt to serve as the doctor—and only woman—on a remote Everest climb in Tibet.
I’m an Irish writer drawn to the ways in which the biggest questions – of human nature, existence, late capitalist realism, politics, ethics, and consciousness – play out via the minutiae of specific locations; in this case, the city of Dublin, where I’ve spent most of my adult life. I don’t think of cities as monuments but living and complex microcosms of concerns and urgencies the whole world shares.
A post-Donna Tart’s Secret History-esque tale of literary mystics who make up a secret society at Trinity College Dublin which tends, unfairly, to get left behind in analyses of Irish ‘Celtic Tiger’ fiction.
This is fiction from or dealing with the abrupt and accelerated modernity that hit Ireland like a cultural torpedo in the early 2000s, and quite a lot of it fails to capture the discombobulation of living through that time.
The First Verse is a campus novel about sexy secretive students and shady deeds which also plots a queer geography of Dublin’s gay scene as well as illustrating the emotional tension that exists in Dublin between city centre and its polarised northern and southern suburbs.
Dublin is such a mannered city, caught in Georgian poses while falling apart as postmodernity obliterates its value system, that it surprises me there aren’t more Dublin novels about baroque subcultures. McCrea is…
A thrilling twist to the suspenseful games of The Rule of Four and The Da Vinci Code sends a gay student reeling through the pubs, nightclubs and streets of present-day Dublin. 'In this brilliant first novel, the best of recent memory, a young Irish writer of great psychological dexterity takes on a handful of exciting themes. For a hundred years, Ireland has provided the English-speaking world with its most eloquent writers; Barry McCrea now joins this illustrious company.' - Edmund White
Growing up queer and Italian in suburban New Jersey in the late 1960s and early 70s, it was the passionate love of food and family that got me through the tough times. I learned to cook from my mother and my grandmothers. I gardened and picked tomatoes with my grandfathers. There was always a pot of simmering tomato gravy and magic meatballs on the stove. My mother’s chicken parmigiana, my paternal grandmother’s homemade ravioli, my maternal grandmother’s stuffed clams, my great aunt’s baked chicken. As a writer, it became my mission to share these secret family recipes and the loving life lessons that saved me.
In this beautifully wrought non-fiction memoir, Adriana Trigiani tells the inspiring stories of her paternal and maternal Italian grandmothers. Her connection to these two women is profound. They taught her many lessons about love and life.
Rich with family and cultural history, this book is a veritable Italian-American feast full of wisdom-filled recipes for living. There is so much I can relate to. Growing up, I was extremely close to both of my grandmothers. Even though they have both passed away, they are still with me, teaching and hugging and loving.
As I child I wanted to know the information that was withheld from me. What were the adults whispering about? What were they hiding? Secrets, things that are hidden, have a way of shaping the lives around them, a dark space that exerts a presence, even though it isn’t seen. I thought if I found out the secret, maybe my family, and the world, would make sense. Breaking Out of Bedlam is my version of my grandmother’s story, based on the whispers I heard and a few faint clues—a newspaper clipping, a Bible, and a baby’s sock. More than that, it’s an explanation for the silence in my family, for my grandmother’s bitterness, her drug abuse, and depression.
Caramelo explores the places where lies end and stories begin, how family histories are built and shaped by each generation that adds its own versions of the “truth” to family lore. Lala, the narrator, is consumed by rumors of the daughter her father had with a washerwoman, a half-sister whom she imagines and seeks, a truth which she struggles to extract from a family known for its storytelling, its “healthy lies,” as her grandmother calls them. “You’re not supposed to ask about such things. There are stories no one is willing to tell you,” Cisneros writes. I love Cisneros’s amazing symphony of details—colors, smells, noises—the way she weaves so many stories together, her hilarious eye for human quirks, and her sparkling prose.
Every year the three Reyes sons and their families drive south from Chicago via Route 66 to the home of the Awful Grandmother and the Little Grandfather on Destiny Street in Mexico City. From the back seat of her father's red Chevy station-wagon, our storyteller Lala loves to witness the crossover from endless Texas to flamboyant Mexico, the switch from truck stop donuts to street vendors with corn on the cob, the smell of hot tortillas and the sting of roasting chillies in the throat and eyes. The youngest of many cousins, Lala is also the most curious. Did the…
The Truth About Unringing Phones
by
Lara Lillibridge,
When Lara was four years old, her father moved from Rochester, New York, to Anchorage, Alaska, a distance of over 4,000 miles. She spent her childhood chasing after him, flying a quarter of the way around the world to tug at the hem of his jacket.
I was an odd kid—a bookworm worried about why I was different from others. Luckily, my family continuously reminded me that I belonged. Once out of the closet, I was able to appreciate the importance of families, both chosen and unchosen. I became a writer because I was compelled to articulate that importance and maybe help others understand how knowledge, trauma, emotions, and love move between the generations. Queer and family histories have inspired a lot of my journalism and fiction, but especially my new novel, This Is It. I hope it fits alongside these recommendations that explore queer multi-generational stories with wit, intelligence, and wisdom.
There is a dark undertow to this book that I didn’t detect in its early pages. Once I was a third of the way through, I was hooked. It’s the story of Wendy, a trans sex worker living through a bracing Winnipeg winter, but it’s also a uniquely queer examination of trauma and abuse offset by the value of family and community.
Her chosen family is produced by circumstance, but it grows its own unique qualities. Meanwhile, her attempts to have a relationship with her father eschew cliché as she reimagines that connection on her own terms. She’s bright and gloomy at once, humorous, curious, and imperfect. Her story is a visceral one; she stuck with me well after I finished it.
WINNER, Lambda Literary Award; Firecracker Award for Fiction; $60,000 Amazon Canada First Novel Award
In this extraordinary debut novel by the author of the Lambda Literary Award-winning story collection A Safe Girl to Love, Wendy Reimer is a thirty-year-old trans woman who comes across evidence that her late grandfather—a devout Mennonite farmer—might have been transgender himself. At first she dismisses this revelation, having other problems at hand, but as she and her friends struggle to cope with the challenges of their increasingly volatile lives—from alcoholism, to sex work, to suicide—Wendy is drawn to the lost pieces of her grandfather’s life,…
I have always been interested in feminine culture and how we move through loss & disappointment, build self-worth, find beauty, make and keep friendships, handle family strife, love the natural world, and value a rich imagination. I love creating fantasy worlds. My fantasy world is fueled by a lifetime of lucid dreaming and a group of animal spirits who always find a place in my stories. Music is my lifelong passion and profession, so original songs are a part of my storytelling package. I am steeped in the expression of the many facets of being a girl and practiced at the myriad of ways to explore them creatively.
I absolutely love the magical, fantastical, and treacherous world that Brand Mull created in this book. The story of Kendra and her brother Seth being shipped off to their grandparents, who they hardly know, in a very strange place they've never been and rules that don't make sense, creates that perfect recipe for discovery, mishap, and victory.
We've seen this format before, but this time it feels different. I especially love the way the siblings work together, each with special gifts that get them both in and out of trouble along the way, not to mention the way the creatures in this book are portrayed with creativity and a little darkness that's very unexpected and incredibly entertaining.
"The dialogue snaps and sizzles. . . like Harry Potter, Fablehaven can be read aloud in a family with as much pleasure for grownups as for children. . . Do yourself a favor, and don't miss the first novel by a writer who is clearly going to be a major figure in popular fantasy." — Orson Scott Card, New York Times Bestselling Author
"Imagination runs wild in Fablehaven. It is a lucky book that can hold this kind of story." — Obert Skye, Author of Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo
For centuries, mystical creatures of all description were…
I moved to New York City for school when I was 18 years old and found myself surrounded by people from all over the world. Every fourth person in New York City is an expat. It was fascinating to me and since then I have lived in three countries and done months-long artist residences in Morocco and Ireland. I also read books and stories about cultures from around the world and am particularly enchanted by Africa. Currently, I live on the Pacific coast of Mexico in the city of Mazatlán and have written two children’s books about Mexico.
This book has truly beautiful art by Poonam Mistry. I find Indian and Hindu culture fascinating and this book brings it to you through the eyes of a child (or two children I should say as it’s about siblings). There is a glossary of Hindu terms in the back which I do appreciate. It is written almost as an Indian tribute to Goodnight Moon which is of course a classic.
A gorgeously illustrated goodnight story that celebrates the nighttime rituals of two young children visiting their grandparents in India.
As nighttime falls over the city, two children visiting their grandparents in India find there's so much fun to be had! Whether it's listening to epic stories or observing rituals in the puja room, there are many moments that make this time together special.
In this beautiful, rhyming ode to bedtime, the only thing more universal than getting ready for bed and saying goodnight is the love between children and their grandparents.
"Nadia Salomon’s Goodnight Ganesha reminds readers that saying goodnight…
Fourteen is a coming-of-age adventure when, at the age of 14, Leslie and her two sisters have to batten down the hatches on their 45-foot sailboat to navigate the Pacific Ocean and French Polynesia, as well as the stormy temper of their larger-than-life Norwegian father.
It’s often said that it takes a village to raise a child. I grew up in an intergenerational family in India. Grandparents, aunts, and uncles provided that extended community. Grandparents can pass down traditions, ensuring the preservation of culture. Stories that speak to the reality of multi-generational households can normalize and celebrate the presence of elders. The number of Americans living in multigenerational households is about four times larger than it was in the 1970s, yet the educational potential and the joy of these relationships are often ignored in literature.
This book reminded me that families change and evolve. Jillian is getting a third grandmother, and she’s not sure she needs one more till they embark on making some matzo ball soup. The illustrations in this book are delightful and make the characters come alive.
Jillian isn't so sure she needs a third grandma now that her stepdad is joining the family, but can her brand-new Bubbe win her over?
When Jillian joins Bubbe for some mom-mandated matzo ball soup making, she realizes she has room in her heart (and stomach!) for one more grandmother. But how can she convince Noni and Gram she still loves them just as much? A super soup celebration, of course! Chaos in the kitchen leads to matzo ball soup, spicy gazpacho, meatball soup, and a trio of grandmas united in their love for their family.
