84 books like The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois

I was twelve when I fell in love with the old fashioned allure of the 19th century that I discovered in this book, which provided an early template (1868), for generations of books to follow that break down female stereotypes.

I identified with different aspects of all four March daughters, but most powerfully with Jo, the writer, who secretively pursues publication, prevails as a successful author, and no doubt provided a template for my own development as a writer.

And Marmee’s nurturing model of mothering was especially consoling to me as I grew up entangled in a difficult mother/daughter relationship, later to be recycled in my own books.

Lily King’s Writers & Lovers is set in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1997, where my own novel takes place a century earlier. It’s a fictional coming-of-age story of a young woman who tries to write her way into adulthood.

Casey Peabody works as a waitress in Harvard Square, spends time with her aspiring writer friends, walks along the Charles River, and sits for hours at her desk trying to write, all of which I did in those same places at her same age and often with the same sense of longing—and which, incidentally, Victoria Swann does, too, albeit while wearing a floor-length skirt and using a fountain pen.

Casey, Victoria, and I, (and I assume Lily King herself), were not alone: so many people I’ve met over the years have spent time in their twenties hanging out around Harvard Square, anxious and waiting to become the grown-ups we hoped to be.… show more.

This novel, by Meg Wolitzer, offers such a twist at the end, I’m not sure how to write about it as an example of a woman writer finding her voice without giving too much away.
The Wife is the story of a Noble Prize-winning author, Joe Castelman, and his wife, Joan, who have kept a terrible secret for all the years of their marriage. Because you know the topic of my selections here, you can surmise that Joan is also a writer, though she hides that fact. Her character tells the story, and we only slowly see the facets of their strange and deceptive marriage. It becomes clear that Joan is a very good writer indeed, and she’s tired of keeping her secret.

This clever tale will make you think about what it means to invent a life both on and off the page. And that there’s no stopping a… show more.

This book is so horribly, deliciously meta. 

This was a book I’d meant to read since it was released, but I never did. Then I was asked about the accuracy of Kuang’s depiction of the publishing industry and curiosity made me crack it open. Kuang crafts a slow-moving trainwreck that you can’t turn away from, even though, at times, you desperately wish to. It gave me hives and heart palpitations. Twice, I fell asleep listening to it and had nightmares.

It wasn’t just the industry descriptions that produced such a visceral reaction. Instead, it’s because Kuang nails that emotional author spot in the Venn Diagram between your writing as a piece of your soul and your writing as commerce. Also, she’s only 28. And I’m not bitter about that at all.  

In 1946, two African American couples were lynched in rural Georgia by a white mob. Grooms fictionalized that account from the perspective of one of the victims, perpetrators, and a pre-teen eyewitness and in the process comes to terms with redemption, race, and violence not only in the South but in the nation as well. Grooms has the ability to juxtapose the beauty of the Southern landscape with the horrors that have occurred there with breathtaking imagery and conciseness. This book not just deals with the victims of such horrific acts, but the often untold damage done to the progeny of those who perpetrated the act. This is a fiction that will always be relevant as long as a nation struggles with injustice, oppression, and white supremacy.  

This is a beloved book for many, but I love it so much because both of the characters are so unlikeable—yet you fall in love with them. I also love the conflict and the dueling, strong personalities of Scarlet and Rhett.

The plot is full of emotion and passion, and yet there are no sex scenes, which is another reason why I like it so much.

I’ve always been an avid reader despite not having peer-aged characters who resembled or represented me when I was a child. Fast forward to when my children were little: suddenly, there existed a plethora of African-American children’s literature. With pure delight, I indulged my little ones in magnificent books featuring characters that reflected them. Want to know a secret? I read those books for myself as well as for them. Recently, when finding a young African American girl at the center of Looking for Hope, I felt a delightful connection with my inner child. Make no mistakes. The young protagonist, Hannah “Mouse” Maynard, endures a horrific life event that alters her existence, interrupts her innocence, and thrusts her into a perilous, mature journey that fails to diminish her abiding sweetness. 

Set in Georgia in 1958, Tang Mae is the darkest of ten fatherless children and considered by her mother the ugliest. However, she is selected to attend a white school because she is gifted. This gives her an opportunity to change her life, but she must first break free from her mother's grasp.

There were many times I wanted to put this book down and not finish it. The brutality and abuse were hard to bear. And yet, I felt compelled to read the entire thing because I wanted to see Tang Mae succeed.

It inspired me that she never gave up on her dream of completing her education despite all the abuse and loss she experienced. I spent a lot of time thinking about this book long after I read it.  

I have loved Black literature written in Southern AAVE since reading Charles Chesnutt’s The Conjure Woman in graduate school. But perhaps what I love most about the narrator, Octavia (also known as Sweet Pea), is that she’s fluent in many languages: the language of the hood where she lives, of the classroom where she excels, and of the playground, where her poverty is often a cause for ridicule, but where her sassy, outspoken nature is treated with grudging respect. Early 1980s Atlanta is an unsafe place for children: drugs, gangs, and the Atlanta Child Murders are threatening their very existence, and like many of the stories on my list, Octavia’s triptych also ends with a departure. However, her wit and savvy make clear that, wherever she lands, she’s going to be alright. 

The rise of the right was in many ways a southern phenomenon as the Old South transformed into the Sun Belt. White Flight explores how white supremacy and fears over desegregation propelled the conservative movement in Atlanta and on the national stage. As federal initiatives spelled the end for segregation in the 1950s and 1960s, southern whites managed to preserve racial discrimination through more subtle avenues. Whites fled Atlanta’s urban core for its suburbs where they reformed the world of white supremacy, giving birth to new causes such as tax revolts, tuition vouchers, and the privatization of public services.