100 books like The Enchanted April

This book is a beautiful tale that demonstrates the ugliness of first impressions when it comes to viewing others. When Vivienne is looked down upon by the local mayor for being a single mother and nomadic traveler, he is making assumptions based on his own narrow-minded authority. 

I love how, despite his attempts to harm her financially, she continues to show how being an individual who is true to oneself means more than trying to fit the mold of what someone else might think you should be. 

This masterpiece is a story of the Grimké sisters, Sarah and Angelina—path-breakers in the abolitionist and women’s rights movements—interwoven with the story of Hetty, a young slave girl given to Sarah on her 11th birthday.

Hetty and Sarah find their way through the prejudice and barriers of a patriarchal society that views them as less than. Both learn to soar.

This book affected me deeply as a writer. Kidd is simply a master of words. But the story itself stripped away my naivety about what our society would look like had these women not taken on the patriarchal system. It is jolting to realize that the fight for women’s rights is not over, but ongoing.

We owe such a debt to those who struggled through the painful and sometimes deadly slings and arrows of culture to stand up for what was right. And we are not done.

Before there were Daniel Day Lewis and Michelle Pfeiffer, there was the book that brought them together (in the movie): Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence, Wharton’s lush, sepia-toned tale of the New York haut ton of the 1870s. Gilded Age society at its best; it won the 1921 Pulitzer for fiction, making Wharton the first woman to win the prize. Read it first, then stream the movie. I loved its opulent portrayal of the well-heeled society of upper-class New York and its spot-on portrayal of moral hypocrisy. The battles that nineteenth-century women of all classes fought to live their lives with integrity and honesty seem to me to echo today in the ongoing injustices perpetrated against society’s powerless.

This is a story of redemption at its sweetest. Although written in 1911, it stands the test of time for today’s girls who think all is lost and find their happy place in the natural world.

I loved nine-year-old Mary Lennox’s exotic beginnings. Born in India to an absent mother and an often ill and busy English father, Mary’s frequent illnesses, lack of attention, and permissive nannies had turned her into an unlikable human. I had a hard time imagining this girl doing anything positive.

I thought for sure she was unretrievable. But when Mary, a seeming lost cause, is sent to live with a distant uncle, she is transformed. Inspired by a secret garden and determined to bring it back to life, she ultimately finds healing and happiness. Lost causes who are saved by birds and nature are my favorites! 

Discovering Diana, the reluctant witch who must rediscover herself and her supernatural talents, makes this novel a page-turner of magick and mystery. And I loved how the weave of those two powers pulled in the romance between Diana and Matthew. An added spicy balance that mixes like a brew into the witch and vampire families that are here and from the Otherworld.

I am not a vampire fan, but the magick here is irresistible. It became rather addictive because the witchcraft spells were so illusory that I felt “invited in.” The vampire scenes were a bit nerve-wracking, creating real tension for me. Diana’s journey was perfect, as it kept growing with obsessive and fantastical suspense. I was in their witch-vampire world, which was as frightening as it was compelling. 

Although I have read a number of novels focused on friendship, this one stands out with particular vigor. It started the way I expected: two friends since childhood. The more I advanced into the reading, though, the more I perceived the two main characters—Elena and Lila—as the same person:  a sort of super-protagonist that incorporates not only the psychological traits of the two but their lives as well.

If it’s true that life is often a fight between who we are and who we would like to be, then this novel portrays that conflict masterfully. What I saw in this story, more than the recount of a friendship, is the power that lies hidden within each of us. Whether we annihilate it or let it bloom depends on the choices we make in our lives. 

Love in the Time of Cholera sets a moody yet magical vibe and brings the city of Cartegena to vivid life. Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s writing is gorgeous even when not read in its original Spanish. While reading the book I could almost experience the languid, feverish haze one might dwell in, the delirium one might experience when struck by cholera.

 This is an unconventional romance that follows the doomed lovers through their respective lives before life finally brings them together in their old age. It’s not a particularly large book, but its depth and brooding quality is why I return once every couple of years to re-read it.

This is a peculiar and marvelous book about birth families, adopted families, and “found” families, and how each of these can be equally screwed up.

Starting in Ireland in the 1940s, the story is peppered with sharp, clever dialog and vivid, fully-human characters. I love how the narrator struggles with his own heart for decades, unable to decide what he wants, who he loves, what’s right, what’s wrong, etc.—in other words, all the stuff I haven’t figured out yet myself. 

Coincidence also plays a huge role in this book, basically making an ass of everyone, which I find oddly comforting since it reminds me that part of being human is having very little control over my own life. Painfully funny and brilliant from cover to cover. 

The first thing to say is that this is an absolute tome of a book – really heavy and certainly not something to take on your commute. But it’s well worth the arm strain. Packed with glorious pictures of gardens across the world it seduces with glimpses of beauty as yet undreamed of and provides new angles on gardens already visited. As a result of this book, I have my sights firmly set on the renaissance extravaganza that is Villa D'Este in Italy, on the romantic Jardins du Prieuré d’Orsay in France and on the naturalistic Arboretum Kalmthout in Belgium. 

This is a book with a spring in its step. A lively romp through the history of British gardens from the Romans to the city patio garden, it is highly illuminating and bursts with amusing facts and anecdotes. I particularly enjoyed learning about Canon Ellacombe, an avid plant collector and angler, and chuckled to hear that architect Sir William Chambers complained of the Landscape Movement "that whole woods had been swept away 'to make room for a little grass and a few American weeds'." Even if you don’t read a line, Osbert Lancaster’s witty illustrations ably sum up the various styles.