100 books like The Testaments

At the time, when I read this book, I’d just become a father. Naturally, the story about a father trying to protect his son in a harsh dystopian world was captivating for me and still is to this day.

I loved the book's gritty realism and felt as if I were walking beside the characters during the entire journey. I also found McCarthy’s writing style unique and something new from the best-selling paperbacks I’d often read before picking up his book.

Devotions is a comprehensive anthology of Mary Oliver’s best work. Oliver is without a doubt the gold standard in nature poetry, and one of the most renowned authors of the genre. It reminds me of all the reasons why she is and will always be my favorite poet, and one of the best poets of the last century. If anyone feels themselves drawn to nature poetry, this book is a must-read.

I’m not sure I could love this book anymore–I often speak about the importance of accepting and working through negative emotions and that there are no inherently “bad” feelings, but this book expresses the importance of the difficult seasons we experience in life in an utterly breathtaking and encompassing way.

This is more of a memoir than a scientific book that wraps you in a warm embrace of personal narrative, like talking to a dear friend after a heartbreak. With the inclusion of historical and anthropological examples of “wintering,” this book beautifully takes a stance against toxic positivity and why it’s ok not to be ok. 

Wendell Berry writes in multiple forms—poetry, essays, novels—and also practices sustainable farming in rural Kentucky. The World Ending Fire is a compilation of essays spanning over fifty years of his work and displays his wide-ranging intellect and care for the natural world. He emphasizes individual responsibility and stewardship of the earth, but his tone never becomes pedantic or preachy. Instead, his passion and conviction are contagious, and I always feel a sense of gratitude and clarity when I read his words. 

This novel is beautifully written, a gentle, faith-filled love story with characters I couldn’t help but care about from the start. Recently widowed and expecting a baby, Jessica is struggling with the tragic loss of her husband and daughter—and the secret knowledge of her late husband’s betrayal. Her new next-door neighbor, Ridley, has his own secrets, which is why he’s attempting to keep a low profile in this small-town setting. I loved watching their friendship evolve into something more and how their faith grew as they dealt with the difficulties they faced. And as a lifelong animal lover, I have to say I was especially fond of Ridley’s dog, Kris, who played the perfect little matchmaker!

As a therapist and coach for expectant and new parents, this book is always near the top of my list of recommendations. Taylor does a wonderful job of normalizing the difficult transition for most from “couple” to “parents.” She uses her background as a couple’s therapist to help people build tools to navigate the emotional upheaval that is incredibly common (and backed by extensive research) in the transition to parenthood. I appreciate Taylor’s honesty and her inclusion of stories from couples as examples. Reading this book feels like having a conversation with a good friend, who focuses first on your strengths, but who isn’t afraid to help you learn some new and helpful ways of interacting.

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.

This 1965 novel by English author Margaret Drabble follows protagonist and PhD student Rosamund as she becomes a single mother.

Educated, upper-middle-class Rosamund narrates with a quintessentially British and—for me—highly enjoyable blend of primness and humor. Fascinatingly and somewhat frustratingly, Rosamund keeps her pregnancy a secret from her daughter Octavia’s father, even after Octavia is born. She’s like a strange English Virgin Mary who studies Elizabethan sonnets and really doesn’t want to “put anyone out”.

Her story also offers an interesting glimpse into class issues in 1960s London and the way that experiences of pregnancy and motherhood can both transcend and accentuate class divisions.

While this nonfiction book is strictly speaking not a romance, there is so much love flowing in this story that it shines a light like any romance novel I’ve read.

The author shares her struggles with starting a family. She lays out onto the page the pain and suffering of trying to have a baby, as well as the hope and joy along the way. It’s a very touching, personal account. Things work out differently than expected when she delivers her son, Rory, and learns he has a disability.

Her life turns out differently than expected and she must adjust, but through it all she discovers the joy that is always available to those who choose to embrace it.

This book is the perfect blend of real-life, emotional situations, and twisty suspense. I love stories about the choices people have to make, and the fallout from those decisions (both bad and good). The author does an amazing job at putting the reader in the character’s shoes: I found myself asking what I would do in the situation. And even if you would do the opposite, you still get why the characters do what they do to achieve the one thing they want more than anything—to be a parent. Who can’t relate to that??