100 books like The River Remembers

This well-researched and lucidly written book, by art historian Catherine McCormack, traces the representation of women throughout the history of Western art.

McCormack examines a wide range of images featuring female figures—from paintings by Old Masters to contemporary advertising—and pays close attention to the way in which these images betray deep-seated stereotypes about women and contribute to the objectification of female bodies.

This book was indispensable to my research for my book, especially the sections on the aestheticizing of sexual violence in paintings and sculptures. 

I loved this book – and read it in one or two sittings – because of how skillfully the author, Megan Nolan, is able to explore the pits of a broken relationship and the attempts and failures of trying to heal.

It pulls no punches in its depiction of what we are willing to do when we believe we are in love and that that love is good, and also in its depiction of what happens to us when the bad reveals itself in all its naked ugliness. Once you’ve read this, you’ll want to read anything else Nolan writes next.

The Yellow Wallpaper inspired my book and brand. Gilman not only defined the madwoman of Gothic literature by writing one of the most haunting and empowering stories of the 19th century, but she also lived it. Her experience inspired her story and exposed the horror of hysteria treatments. This story inspired me because I could relate to Gilman and her main character. Though hysteria is no longer a recognized condition and women have gained many more rights, ideologies left over from the hysteria panic still creep in our culture and generational memory. Women are still called crazy. The assumption that women are emotionally unstable is still used to discredit, invalidate and control women. In an era where women couldn’t fight for their rights as we do, Gilman found her power by embracing madness, and so do I.

Pearl Buck is an author whom I admire for her genuine love and respect of the Chinese culture and people. This sentiment shines through her novels. Pavilion of Women is unique in that it highlights a pronounced social change in China in the early 20th century, when Western values began to nudge younger Chinese to unyoke themselves of old traditions and customs. The fastidious, all-wise, and freedom-seeking protagonist attempts to dictate other people’s lives to keep her household in order, but fails miserably. She finally learns from a renegade missionary that her rigid attitudes and lack of empathy are in fact the real shackles that hobble her.

I love this novel because character development is superbly handled.

A nonfiction book that tells the story of three unrelated women and their unique but universal struggles; I loved it because of the author’s incredible talent for articulating the everyday lived experience of being female, the subtle and overt judgments, and the fact that women are held to different standards, even by other women.

"‘Even when women fight back, they must do it correctly. They must cry the right amount and look pretty but not hot." Many times while reading, I recognised myself, my sister, my mother, and my friends.

All three stories are highly engaging, but the truly compelling story is Maggie’s, a troubled girl from a difficult family who is preyed upon by her teacher, a married man with a family. The subsequent effect on her life is just devastating (remember, folks: this is nonfiction.)

A RITA Award winner, this sweet, character-driven Regency comes alive with playful Hepburn/Tracy style banter in a May/December romance. An impertinent younger sister, who takes in strays and the wounded, wins the attention of a scarred, slightly singed diplomat. She decides he must be reunited with his family for the holidays. With her rascal brother’s dubious assistance, the three embark on a surprisingly dangerous quest to fulfill heartfelt Christmas wishes.

I have not infrequently fantasized about running away to a remote Scottish island, so the premise and American protagonist of this novel immediately spoke to me.

Add to that a big creepy house, unexplained ghostly occurrences, and elegant literary writing, and this is a big winner for me. I loved the brooding, sensitive atmosphere of this novel, and it kept me guessing until the end.

This warm, funny book introduces readers to introverted bookseller Nina Hill. When Nina’s estranged father dies, Nina discovers she has a whole host of new relatives she didn’t know about. And what’s more daunting is that they want to get to know her! So, Nina has to come out of her shell and step away from the world of fiction to embrace real life. With a vibrant, attention-grabbing cover and a range of quirky characters to get to know, this novel is sure to appeal to book-lovers everywhere. 

Having read this book when I was 22, it helped shape my fear of the danger of complacent societies. Simply but powerfully written, its first-person narrative creates a sense of claustrophobia, a glimpse into the isolating and dehumanizing life of a handmaid. 

Through Offred, the traumas she experiences, and the people she interacts with the whole world of Gilead springs to scary life. While reading the book, it struck me that nothing was totally made up. Every incident in the book was derived from history. These things had already happened, and they could happen again. It showed me that victory is not always heroic and impressive. Sometimes, victory can be just surviving oppression.

I was and remain a big fan of Judith Rossner’s 1975 bestseller (the 1977 movie version starring Diane Keaton and Richard Gere, not so much). The book was inspired by a headline-making murder that took place in New York City two years before the book’s publication. Its victim was twenty-seven-year-old Roseann Quinn had rejected the traditional roles her parents expected of her. Though a quiet, sedate schoolteacher by day, she turned into a boisterous party girl at night, picking up disreputable-looking strangers at neighborhood bars and taking them back to her apartment for bouts of rough sex. One of those strangers was a deeply troubled drifter named John Wayne Wilson, who ended up killing her in a fit of frenzied savagery in early January 1973. What I admire about Rossner is the way that she takes an inherently sensational subject and turns it into a serious, very moving character study… show more.