Fans pick 100 books like What My Bones Know

I love this book for its stark, raw depiction of Viola Davis’s ascent to stardom. Her narration of the audiobook adds a poignant and often wrenching dimension to growing up in abject poverty, overt racism, and fear at the hands of a terrorizing and abusive father.

I was further compelled by her description of therapy in later life, where she struggled against the demons of her past, often in the form of her inner child, battered and belligerent, lacking any confidence to become the stellar human being and actress she was meant to become. Davis’s voice and courage left me both humbled and inspired.  

Relayed in the voice of his nine-year-old self, Solito tracks Zamora’s harrowing three-thousand-mile trek from his home in El Salvador to join his mother and father in California.

To reunite with his parents, he must leave behind everything else he has ever known: his village, his friends, his grandparents, and his beloved Tia Mali. What is supposed to be a two-week journey turns into a two-month odyssey, as he makes his way north by bus, boat, and foot, accompanied by a group of strangers who, in time, close ranks to nurture and protect him like a second family.

This affecting story, told with such innocence and immediacy, makes evident the individual, human costs that are too easily overlooked by reporting on US immigration and the staggering statistics that it invariably emphasizes.

April is the kind of character everyone roots for. She’s sixteen and fending for herself after her crappy father abandoned her in a motor home with no engine.

Teens who grow up like April have grit built into their DNA, and when she takes off for a new life, she soars. The problem is, our past has a way of dragging us backward, and seeing April fight to keep the life and friends she’s built is what makes you keep turning the pages. Oh, and also, she has a beautiful skill. April can sing. 

Reading this book is akin to watching a flower bloom; you can’t help but be in awe.

I just could not put this book down. Apart from learning new things a mile a minute, my vocabulary increased. Sinclair takes a deep dive into the life and culture of Rastafarians, and since I love Bob Marley, this was especially intriguing. Most of all, she can write—I mean really write.

Growing up in a household where both of my parents battled crack addiction was extremely difficult. It caused deep-seated feelings of resentment, anger, and a profound lack of trust in both my parents and society as a whole. Not being able to rely on my parents, and witnessing them consistently choose drugs over their family, was incredibly painful, especially for a child.

Reading this book brought me closer to my parents and helped me understand that their addiction was just a symptom of a much larger issue that extended beyond our home. I found a connection with characters like Elgin Swift and delving into the crack epidemic during the time my parents were growing up was truly eye-opening.

This experience allowed me to feel a deeper bond with my parents and gain a better understanding of their struggles. 

I highly recommend this book to anyone who has loved ones facing… show more.

ET is a formidable force, and this book unequivocally proves it.

It underscores the importance of taking control of your life and embarking on the journey to become the best version of yourself – something we all aspire to. ET breaks down this journey and shares the secrets to waking up, taking action, and uncovering your "why."

I highly recommend this book to anyone in search of motivation and a roadmap for achieving their full potential. It serves as a vital first step that we all must take, which in return will lead us to build a support network of village members on our path towards greatness.

When I read this heart-wrenching, poignant memoir about the devastating costs that comes with pushing yourself to live up to others’ expectations, I felt like I was watching part of my life’s story from a bird’s-eye view.

As a daughter of immigrants, I grew up being told that success was conditional on my being exceptional, no matter the cost. But when we tell people that their mental health, community, love, relationships, and compassion come secondary to living up to others’ expectations, it isn’t success at all. A must-read for all, but especially for anyone who has had to contend with the Model Minority Myth as a core definition of success.

This book at times feels like poetry and written with such profundity.

Grappling with deep physical pain, Jen Soriano, a daughter of a neurosurgeon, comes upon a hard truth about the origins of her physical pain; a history of generational trauma and her family’s absorption of a painful history of colonization of the Phillipines.

This poignant memoir helped me understand, at a personal level, how the body starts to give up when we carry the emotional wounds of the past, how neurodivergence intersects with historical trauma, and reminds us that freedom from pain is indeed possible.

As a trauma psychologist, it was both humbling and enlightening to receive the author’s personal accounts of intergenerational trauma and intergenerational healing.

For Morris, war was a siren call, “exalting” work that allowed him to “challenge death.” But once redeployed to the safety of America, he realized that months and years of waiting for the next bomb to explode had taught his body to react to potential threats in the environment that his mind rightfully ignored. A sack of trash at the side of the road. A car backfiring. A restless crowd. For the combat veteran, these everyday triggers can generate a crippling flashback or a spiraling panic, the body shooting up flares of alarm before the mind has time to recognize that in America, a bag of trash is just trash. The Evil Hours is a brilliant, evocative, and often poetic portrayal of one man’s quest to leave the war behind.

My biggest problem with old-school PTSD books is that they are uni-dimensional and focus on a single big trauma. However, both as a therapist and just as a human, I understand that trauma is a multi-dimensional experience. There are different sizes and impacts, and it lasts from inter-generational trauma to systemic, ongoing trauma to inter-group and familial, as well as personal and current trauma. I’m on a big reading kick for Complex PTSD resources.

There’s also a dearth of culturally integrated and informed mental health books. Natalie’s book is fantastic because she has the knowledge and experience as a licensed mental health professional and the roots and wisdom of how to use reflection, narratives, and ceremony to de-program shame, imposter phenomenon, and all the baggage that weighs down historically marginalized readers. There’s a damn good reason Natalie has thousands of Instagram followers- she is relatable, bold, wise, and a kind… show more.