10 books like The Widow of the South

Cold Mountain chronicles the “odyssey” of W.P. Inman, a deserter of the Confederate army from a hospital near Raleigh to his fiancée, Ada, who lives on a farm in a rural mountain community in North Carolina. 

Although the story of Inman’s adventurous journey is filled with moments of human kindness, I felt even more connected to the storyline about the unlikely friendship between the sophisticated Ada, who is out of her depth on the mountain farm, and the homeless but resourceful Ruby, who joins Ada’s household, clarifying, “Money’s not it… I’m saying if I’m to help you here, it’s with both of us knowing that everybody empties their own night jar.” Their humanity allows both women to help the other to survive the daily challenges of war.  

This masterpiece is a story of the Grimké sisters, Sarah and Angelina—path-breakers in the abolitionist and women’s rights movements—interwoven with the story of Hetty, a young slave girl given to Sarah on her 11th birthday.

Hetty and Sarah find their way through the prejudice and barriers of a patriarchal society that views them as less than. Both learn to soar.

This book affected me deeply as a writer. Kidd is simply a master of words. But the story itself stripped away my naivety about what our society would look like had these women not taken on the patriarchal system. It is jolting to realize that the fight for women’s rights is not over, but ongoing.

We owe such a debt to those who struggled through the painful and sometimes deadly slings and arrows of culture to stand up for what was right. And we are not done.

I loved this novel because it was haunting, historical, and existential with an experimental format that blew my mind almost like an intense meditation session.

While some people may find the experimental format jarring, it transported me to a surreal disorienting dimension similar to a dream or bardo state. If you’re not familiar with the Bardo, it’s worth researching.

The word Bardo in the title is what originally attracted me to the novel because of my interest in Buddhism. Yet the bardo in this novel reminded me more of Dante’s Inferno!

The technique used at the beginning to establish the time and setting was ingenious, yet I did wonder if it was entirely fiction or pulled from the historical record. It seems people either really love this novel or have some synapses blown. In my case, it was both. 

Scarlett O’Hara is the archetype of a strong woman who will do whatever it takes to achieve her goals.

She lies, cheats, steals, and lies some more and while readers may be aghast at her decisions, we can understand her motivations.

This book makes me question what choices I might make to survive similar circumstances. Even with its cringier elements, this is another sweeping family saga I love.

When recommending Geraldine Brooks’ multi-layered and intricately crafted March, another book must always be mentioned. Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. March is the Pulitzer Prize-winning historical fiction rooted in Alcott’s classic novel that’s been read and loved for centuries. The March of the title is Jo March’s father in Little Women. In real life, his name was Amos Bronson Alcott. And he was the father of Louisa May Alcott. Brooks tells March’s fictitious story masterfully and with great historical acumen. Her depictions of Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson are truly historic. Geraldine Brooks is not a historian. Her husband Tony Horwitz was. In Brooks’ case it seems that to fall in love with a historian is to fall in love with history as well. March is the beautiful proof.

Shiloh is an early novel by writer and historian, Shelby Foote, that recounts the story of this bloody battle through multiple perspectives—both Union and Confederate. Foote does a masterful job of portraying how the lives of the various narrators are interrelated, especially the lives of those in each of the armies. In addition, he illuminates just how crazed and violent the experience of the battle itself was—in contrast to the often quite rational, even humane men who fought it. The success of Shiloh also led to Foote writing his monumental three-volume The Civil War: A Narrative and playing a starring role in Ken Burns’ documentary on the war. 

Admittedly I don’t read enough fiction. However, good fiction books can be just as (if not more) instructive to business ethics students and practitioners as the best non-fiction works. The best ones provide lessons that are timeless. One example of this is Lord of the Flies. Based on the story of a group of schoolboys who become stranded on a deserted island, the book is a window into the dynamics that emerge when humans form groups – hierarchies naturally emerge, the battle for power is rarely pleasant, and power in the wrong hands invariably corrupts. More importantly, it shows that without the appropriate institutional guardrails to commend the good and condemn the bad, groups (and institutions) ultimately become dysfunctional and decay.

I read this when I was young and it made such an impression on me. I could see the wind-swept moors, feel the intensity of the love between Cathy and Heathcliff, and his subsequent descent into madness and revenge. The characters go through so many incarnations that it almost feels like you are reading several novels instead of one. I really became completely immersed in how the story would unfold, loving Heathcliff one minute and hating him the next. He was my first introduction to the anti-hero, and I still remember my confusion as to how I was supposed to feel about him. Bronte’s novel has stood the test of time, and completely absorbs the reader until the very last page as they hope for that happy ending Cathy’s descendants deserve. 

I adore sweeping family sagas with strong women characters and with tragedy, romance, and heartache set in Australia, The Thorn Birds is a beautiful example of the genre.

Meggie is rebellious and headstrong and makes questionable choices, but we empathize and root for her. All the well-rounded characters each come with their own secrets that will keep you turning pages.

Because it takes me immediately back to college, which was when I’d first read it. Out of the books on my list, I’ve read The Alienist the most—three times, I believe, and I’m planning on listening to it on audio soonish. But 1890’s New York serial killer, with a young Teddy Roosevelt as police commissioner? Okay, sign me up. The storyline was soooo dark, and I couldn’t get enough of it. Immediately after reading it I wanted to write something like it—I’m proud of you Isaac Crawley! But, in my mind, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a better team than Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, Sara Howard, and John Schuyler Moore!