100 books like The Transit of Venus

In this book, George Eliot’s novel of provincial life in 1830s England, nearly everyone marries the wrong person. Even the future happiness of its heroine, Dorothea, when she finally unites with her true love, Will, is questionable. And yet it stands for me, not only as one of the finest novels ever written but one of literature’s greatest romances.

Virginia Woolf famously wrote that it is a novel “for grown-up people.” I believe it is essential reading because it reflects real life where couples are mismatched, love goes unrequited, and ambitions are thwarted. It illuminates the small ways our better selves become compromised—and the larger gestures by which we are redeemed. As Eliot’s characters zigzag their way to each other, it is love that brings this redemption. How very romantic!

This book was published years after mine, but I wish it had been around when I was going through my life upheaval. The author writes about relationships and has an intelligent and thoughtful take on marriage. You might not agree with her philosophy, but her book is eye-opening, will challenge your assumptions, and shares information that might help people as they rebuild their lives after widowhood, infidelity, and divorce.

I fell in love with this book from my first reading of it when I was in college many, many years ago. Each character was vibrant and perceptive. The writing was beautiful and portrayed images that have stayed with me all of my life.   

This book opened my eyes to class differences and privileges. It led me to evaluating my own life and values.

This is another book I wish I’d been able to read when my marriage ended. In this memoir, Gina Frangello writes about the explosion of her own marriage, the cause of which was her secret affair. This might seem like a surprising choice, but in so many ways it gets to the heart of why modern marriages come apart. So many women, myself included, entered into marriage committed to the idea of following codes and rules that were not our own. This author bravely excavates the reasons for her affair without punishing herself, but taking responsibility. In this way it is a sister memoir to Rachel Cusk’s Aftermath. This is not a book about widowhood at all, but I recommend it because it can offer fresh perspective on marriage and relationships…for next time.

I loved this evocative and moving novel, winner of the Voss Literary Prize, for its accurate portrayal of the personal conflict that doctors often struggle with (particularly female doctors) as they try to balance the demands of work and family life.

It follows a day in the life of pregnant family physician Dr. Dina Ronen as she attends to the diverse needs of her patients and her young family while struggling to reconcile with the demanding ghosts of her personal and collective past. This is a beautifully constructed and visceral work from Australian family physician Leah Kaminsky.

I’ve spent a few years traveling around India and Nepal, a lot of it, pre-internet, and I always wanted to find that experience captured in literature.

Although I enjoyed writing on the area, from City of Joy by Lapierre to Kim by Kipling, nothing came close to the India I stumbled through until I read Shantaram.

I was never hooked on heroin or part of the mafia, but I recognized the smell of the streets and the beautiful personalities that flourished there, and when I read that book, it was like I was there again, in the mix.

I’m not really a fan of Australian fiction, but I did enjoy Alan Marshall’s books.

Crippled by polio himself, Marshall had first-hand experience, which I found helpful for writing my book, especially since I Can Jump Puddles is also set in the early decades of the twentieth century.

More importantly, I find his gutsy approach to life in a tough rural environment, his no nonsense attitude, and his humour inspirational. 

As a writer, I found so much to admire in The Daughters of Mars by Thomas Keneally. Simply put, it’s epic. I was blown away by Kenneally’s Tolstoian precision of narrative and by the drama of two sisters who leave their confined lives in Australia and serve as nurses in WWI, first on a hospital ship in the Mediterranean and then on the Western Front. Keneally recreates a full sense of the times, showing how individuals can become enmeshed and shaped by huge historical events. The sisters confront not only the terrible effects of war but also a secret that haunts them. This is a stunning, multi-layered novel by a master, The Daughters of Mars has earned numerous accolades—and no wonder. It’s beautifully written and deeply affecting.  

Every Australian bookish girl knows Sybylla from My Brilliant Career. She is the original feisty heroine, the unashamed young feminist who rejects the isolation and low expectations of the bush and marriage at the turn of the twentieth century, wanting to strike out on her own as a writer. That her yearnings are so irrelevant to those around her and her ambitions unfulfilled act as a dare to all of us, and to me – to have that brilliant career, to tell your truths and have your independence, whether anyone else likes it or not. Equally as vivid, witty, and socially acute as Twain, if you read only one old and dusty novel about Australia, read this one.

My next book is by far the least well-known of my authors, and it’s by far the least well-known book. It’s by my friend and colleague, Samuel Alexander, with whom I’ve co-written a couple of books now, including This Civilisation is Finished.

It’s a splendid read. For philosophers, it’s charming, because Sam is continually bringing in implicitly, and most explicitly, the great philosophers. He’s quoting or talking about Hobbes, Rousseau, Marx, and the rest. His characters sometimes offer lines of one of them to each other. And, in that sense, it’s very much a novel of ideas in the tradition of utopias and dystopias.