100 books like The Girl Who Fell from the Sky

Brit Bennett writes with a steady hand as she immerses us into the minds and lives of three people. Nadia and Aubrey are haunted to womanhood by maternal abandonment. They are friends as well as rivals for the affection of the same man. Luke would have made a mother out of Nadia had they chosen to parent, and he eventually makes a wife and mother of Aubrey. His mother is the first lady of the church that plays a prominent role in their lives. The mothers in Bennett's exceptional novel are hurt and betrayed by callous men and by each other. I rooted for each of them to persevere, but like many of my favorite novels, this is not a happily ever after for everyone type of story.

What sticks with me most about this beautiful book is the fiercely tender bond between Dana Lynn and her mother, Gwen. Right from the opening lines, I was all in on their emotionally complex mother-daughter relationship. In some ways, Dana Lynn and her mom are like sisters, the two of them keeping a whopping secret for Dana Lynn’s father, and yet, they are always aware of their position as mother and daughter.

Gwen grieves the ways her husband’s secret plunders their daughter’s innocence, even as Dana Lynn struggles to make peace with what their world would look like if the truth were out. As a reader, I mourned with them and rejoiced, too, that they had each other.

The Star Side of Bird Hill is about two sisters, one a preteen and the other on the verge of womanhood, sent from Brooklyn to Barbados to spend a summer with their grandmother. This temporary arrangement becomes permanent when their severely depressed mother kills herself. The children of Bird Hill are still friends in the making. Their grandmother is an unbending woman with strange ways, not the adored woman who raised them. Adapting to a new home takes time and reluctant willingness. I spent my earliest years with my grandparents on my mother’s side on the island of Anegada while my parents set up roots in NY before bringing me to a new home. This gave me an immediate connection to Naomi Jackson’s wonderful novel. Her skillful writing did the rest.

As a teenager, Sophie leaves behind all that she knows in Haiti to be reunited with her mother. In New York, she falls for a man closer in age to her mother than herself. Her mother rages against him, or any man deemed unsuitable. Desire to guard Sophie's purity drives a wedge between them. The patriarchy of Haiti has lingering effects, resulting in maternal protection that resembles cruelty. Sophie tries to make a marriage work out in different ways and for different reasons than the women (mother, aunt, grandmother) who raised her and formed her ideas of womanhood. Stories of family often center on the differing priorities and expectations of different generations. This aspect of the gracefully written Breath, Eyes, Memory is what drew me in and kept me hooked.

Finally, a campus novel with a female protagonist who’s also an undergraduate. Batuman does a wonderful job of immersing the reader in her main character’s point of view. And what a fascinating perspective she offers–I was so enthralled with her way of thinking and the amusing things she notices about the people and places around her!

The writing constantly surprised and engaged me while taking me along on the journey of Selin’s first year of college.  

I first listened to this book in audio and immediately bought the print copy. Good Me Bad Me has such a compelling voice that this is a book you will end up reading way past your bedtime. 

The story is told by a fifteen-year-old girl who has gone through so much trauma, your heart breaks…but then it twists, leaving you gasping for air because you can’t believe what just happened. I have read this story over and over again and it still haunts me to this day!

This novel-in-stories follows a quartet of friends—Dub, Rollo, Rye, and Gio—as they party, fight, love, and occasionally even consider leaving Rhode Island. Gio, the group’s storyteller, observes, comments, and guides the reader through a hard-edged world of race and class oppression. Guns and drugs flood Gio’s world, but these forces are offset by bonds of family, friends, and friends who become family. Never has the overlooked town of Pawtucket been so lovingly portrayed, and I’ll not soon forget Holmes’ mouthwatering descriptions of Portuguese Catholic feast days in East Providence. A keen observer of toxic masculinity, Holmes shows how misogyny holds this group of young men together while it also holds them back.

Although published long ago, it is remarkable how easy it is to become involved in this book and be charmed by its main character, Tom.

Orphans abound in 18th and 19th-century fiction. What happens to him in an upper-class environment is inevitably unfair and hypocritical, so when he gets on the road—whether as a result of desire or force—the fun truly begins.

Tom says at the beginning that his tale has the purpose of understanding “human nature”, and after spending time with him on his adventures, from the estate where he grows up to his romp in London, we have a sense of the good nature of human nature. Tom’s sense of life infuses his life on the road, offering a character to celebrate despite his flaws.

This was one of my favorite books as a child and probably one reason I became an anthropologist of mining.

Though I wouldn’t have put it this way at the time, I found it fascinating that in a place where everything is doing the same job, especially a highly dangerous and damaging job, other aspects of culture coalesce around that job and its meanings—things like religion, kinship, gender, leisure, ecology, etcetera. I was deeply moved by the description of the vast slag heap that slowly came to tower over the town, eventually engulfing the narrator’s small house. 

This is another novel I enjoy teaching; students respond well to it. Desai excels in giving detailed domestic pictures of life in India. Here she recounts how an ungainly disabled daughter with what seems to be epilepsy and a learning disability is largely kept out of sight by her upper-middle-class family in the 20th century. The daughter, Uma, goes away with assorted other characters, finding a measure of freedom, but invariably needs to return to her parents’ confining house. At the end of the novel, she is largely taking care of them. Desai shows what we might call a “feminist ethic of care” as she writes of a disabled woman as interesting and worthy of sustained attention, which implicitly feeds into advocates’ contention of the value of all disabled people.