100 books like The Instructions

Let’s just be honest here: We know we all love this book because of the feels that we experience once that twist hits us, right?

I don’t want to ruin it if you’re not familiar, but once Charlie comes to terms with this very important moment, we empathize with his complicated feelings and we support his recovery, even if it means that certain people in his life will be looked at in a very negative way.

This book reminds us of how important it is to heal, even if the things we have to do to get there may not be something that others (or even we) want to face. 

This book was a present from a friend and I dove into it with no information about the novel or the author.

Many histories come together in it in an unhurried pace, present dots, and let the characters join them. The various perspectives weave and interweave stories and the warps and wefts bring them closer and closer into forming a bigger whole – only to see the knitting is too late by very little.

There are unrecognised talents and relationships, and accidents and serendipity direct the needles. And when the revelation comes, it is to a person bent heavy under a lifetime of acceptance. It is not often that pathos is so poetic.

On the surface, this book is about a person haunted by a single incident from their past but beneath the surface, How the Soldier Repairs the Gramophone is a gorgeous meditation on the moments in life that affect us, big and small.

The novel has a heavy subject but the stunning turns-of-phrase and imaginative world our narrator shares can make even the mundane and lived-in reality feel like the fantastical summed up in my favorite line, "Missing someone, they say, is self-centered. I self-center you more than ever."

Three Assassins almost feels like the movie Bullet Train with Brad Pitt.

It’s a series of seemingly unrelated events that connect a network of assassins together and pit them against one another, knowingly or unknowingly. The novel itself is less about the action and pace and unfurls like a twisted puzzle, making every piece lean into a seemingly surreal universe.

We see all the characters, good and bad, their flaws, good and bad, and the ones we can stand up for, good and bad. “All the knowledge and science that human beings have, it only helps humans.” But even when we’re cheering, I didn’t necessarily know what to believe until I reached the end. Even then, I walked away holding doubts and a smile. 

I first became aware of Han Kang through her terrific novel The Vegetarian, so when this novel came out, I was keen to read it. I was especially drawn to it because it involves Korean characters looking back at the Gwangju massacre, a horrific event that took place in 1980, just two years after I left Korea following my Peace Corps service there. When I taught at a university, anti-government demonstrations by students were already being tightly watched, and one of my students vanished in a crackdown. I never learned what happened to him, but he didn’t return to school. It was therefore fascinating to me to read these fictionalized accounts of both the incident in Gwangju and the long-term effects on survivors.

This is the kind of book that changes lives! The spare text and black-and-white sketches convey an inescapable message about climate action: the hope we need comes from us.

As personified by another young heroine, effective action will take resolve (“Rise up!”), imagination ("Think up”), sleepless nights (“Rest up”), and support when we can find it (“Meet up.”) Some solutions may be unexpected, like seed swaps and Little Free Libraries, but they’re not impossible. Plenty of them look like fun.

I don’t know another book that depicts more succinctly how to build the future we want and children deserve: “Show up!”

Philip J. Cunningham joined his Chinese friends from May 3 to June 4 in 1989, as a supporter, journalist, and witness in the Tiananmen Square protests. Tiananmen Moon chronicles the protests, hunger strike, students’ leadership, their internal friction, and Cunningham’s meeting with Chai Ling before the massacre. From an American bystander’s perspective, Cunningham voices his concerns about the peer pressure among students, and a few self-claimed radical leaders using the same rhetoric and tactic as the regime to seize power and escalate conflicts. To this day, the Tiananmen Square protests are obliterated by the propaganda machine in mainland China. Tiananmen Moon is a remarkable testament capturing the plaintive and lyrical beauty of a dream that continues to haunt China today.

We’re also indebted to young minority students for pioneering free-speech rights in our schools. Most of us still associate the struggle for student rights with antiwar activists like Mary Beth Tinker, whose armband protest against the Vietnam War led to the epochal Tinker v. Des Moines Supreme Court decision declaring that teachers and students don’t shed their First Amendment rights at the schoolhouse gate. But before and after Tinker, Black and Chicano students challenged racist curricula, disciplinary policies, and more. Student rights are civil rights, and vice versa. We can’t—and shouldn’t—separate them.

In May 1970, Kent, Ohio, witnessed four days of violence, from a rampage downtown that left fifty-six store windows smashed, to the shooting of thirteen Kent State University students by the Ohio National Guard. To tell this story, cartoonist Backderf blends his craft with the historian’s. And it works: The same visual conventions that render the deeds of superheroes also effectively portray historic violence. Relying on oral histories, official investigations, and photographs as sources, Backderf depicts punches and kicks, the grins of victors and the grimaces of the vanquished, and the accompanying sounds: Pop! Crak! Bang! Crash! While contemptuous of the Guard’s senior leadership, he nonetheless takes care to present multiple points of view.

Here’s the only full-scale biography of the most important student activist in American history. Mario Savio registered Black voters during the Freedom Rides in Mississippi and then led the Free Speech Movement at Berkeley in 1964, when the university tried to prevent civil-rights demonstrators from protesting on campus. Savio’s story is yet another reminder about the radical roots of free speech, which is too often dismissed at contemporary universities as a conservative or even reactionary impulse. It wasn’t, and it isn’t.