100 books like The Tracey Fragments

This book smashed everything I thought about memoirs into pieces. Here is a vivid retelling of an abusive relationship that grabbed me not only with its pain but with its form.

From chapter to chapter, Machado hops and skips through genres, utilizing a treasure trove of styles and formats to evoke the best and worst parts of her experience. It’s a masterful experiment that works on every page. That achievement in and of itself makes this book worthwhile.

But also factor in that it’s a queer story. It’s a groundbreaking narrative that never forgets all of the elements that arise when queerness and cruelty collide. This is a high-wire act that Machado pulls off with gusto. It’s easily one of the best books I’ve read in years.

Some books are fascinating character studies. Others are riveting stories. When Rabbit Howls is somehow both.

Narrated by a woman’s alters (The Troops for Trudi Chase), this book really goes the extra mile in terms of forcing the reader to feel the lifetime impact of abuse both through the story being told, and the way that story is written on the page. I won’t spoil anything here, but it includes a brilliant, metafictional ending that has lingered with me for years now like a punch to the solar plexus.

In far too many stories, Dissociative Identity Disorder is positioned as the antagonist of the story, which results in hideously inaccurate, stigmatizing portrayals.

I was utterly captivated by the way Matthew McKay (a clinical psychologist) did not allow us to flinch from the very real challenges Margaret faced as a result of living with DID, while also highlighting the profound strength that flowed into her life via her alters.

I couldn’t put this book down. It was instrumental in showing me how a portrayal could be both brutally honest and authentically faithful, while avoiding the many pitfalls in which so many portrayals seem to bottom out. 

Paul Lynch was recently announced as the (very deserving) winner of the Booker Prize, but I’ve been a fan of his ever since his spectacular novel about the Ireland’s Great Famine, Grace.

How do you capture trauma on a national level? Of course, you embody it in the personal, and I was in constant awe of Lynch’s immediate, visceral sentences, and their ability to force me to embody Grace’s experience living through absolutely unimaginable history.

One memorable section is made up of four entirely blacked-out pages, a brilliant nod to the way trauma overwhelms and erases.

Gabby Petito. Natalee Holloway. Laci Peterson. These names probably sound familiar. Lauren Cho, Stephany Flores, and Latoyia Figueroa might not. This illustrates what news anchor Gwen Ifill dubbed “missing white woman syndrome,” the disproportionate media coverage in missing persons cases that attractive, upper-middle-class white women receive.

McDiarmid’s moving book illustrates this phenomenon, following the cases of thousands of Indigenous women who have disappeared from a stretch of road in British Columbia dubbed “The Highway of Tears.” For decades, the cases garnered little media attention until a white woman named Nicole Hoar disappeared in 2002, bringing more resources and coverage.

In painstaking detail, this immersive and necessary book follows several of these previously ignored women’s lives, illustrating the systemic issues that failed the victims and their loved ones.

This heart-wrenching historical novel won the prestigious Costa Book of the Year award. Set in 1867 in Dove River, a tiny settlement in the Northern Territory, this tale is told by several narrators. Often, that technique is used ineffectively, but Penney has made each voice so distinct that the book transcends the genre of murder mystery to become a reflection upon how people perceive the same event very differently. When Mrs. Ross discovers the murdered body of the trapper Laurent Jammett, her worst nightmare comes true: her seventeen-year-old son Francis has disappeared and has been named the primary suspect. Searchers set out from Dove River, following his tracks across the snow, ultimately discovering the truth behind the murder. This tale compellingly explores themes of justice and redemption. 

I read this book twice, cover-to-cover and back-to-back. First, to find out what happens to our feisty Métis hero, Joan of Arcand, and then again to savor Dimaline’s lyrical writing. When Mere (her grandmother) is murdered by a wolfish shape-shifting creature—a rogarou—we find ourselves trapped in a mythic Métis world. “A dog, a man, a wolf. He was clothed, he was naked in his fur, he wore moccasins to jig.” Carrying a ground-up salt bone for protection, Joan ventures into the Empire of Wild to slay the rogarou who killed Mere and reclaim her husband. Like her hero, Dimaline is brave and fearless, pouring history, politics, and religion into her cauldron, then stirring with a branch of magic realism and psychological terror. Dimaline is my hero.

Amari Peters is a Black girl from a low-income housing project with a lot of heart.

Yet when she’s sent to the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs and discovers the world of the supernatural, she must compete with other students who have enjoyed a lot of privilege. It isn’t just that the world around Amari is spectacular and well-built, but we’re getting a glimpse into her challenges both at home and at this new school.

I loved being in the perspective of someone who never thought they could be a hero before. Someone who looks at things from a different lens can help us build a whole lot of empathy.

I have recommended this book to so many people over the years! I loved the unique setting—deep beneath the sewers of New York City—and the way Gregor travels to this world—through a chute in his apartment’s laundromat. 

My ten-year-old son and I both read this one and loved all the talking creatures and subterranean adventure—giant anthropomorphic rats, cockroaches, and bats you can ride! All those creepy crawlies might sound a little icky to some, but I loved how inventive and unexpected it all was. One of my favorite characters is a smart-mouthed, grumpy warrior rat named Ripred, who, deep down, has a soft side (plus a powerful love for stinky food).  

This was a hard book to put down. Nearly every chapter ends with a high-stakes, dangerous development. I just had to keep turning the pages to find out what would happen next. 

I wanted to include a one book that could be enjoyed by kids of all ages and this was a no brainer.

I was first a fan of Meloy through his music as the front man of the Decemberists but I might be an even bigger fan of him as an author, and Carson Ellis may be my favorite Illustrator working today. This is another example of a book with a hidden world that exists right in our own backyard.

Inspired by his homestate of Oregon Meloy’s love for his home shines in the book. This one is a modern day Chronicles of Narnia.