The most recommended books about Mennonites

A fun, insightful, humorous revelation about a celebrated poet who returns to her conservative home and examines the people and ideas that shaped her. I identify with this book because I, too, was raised Mennonite. In addition. The protagonist of my book is a Mennonite.

Full confession here. I’m not a big romance reader and so I’m baffled by why Mennonite/Amish mystery romances are such a huge genre. Maybe it’s the perceived simplicity and innocence of the sect? Maybe they take people back to a time they never experienced themselves? That’s why I found Weaver-Zercher’s book helpful in clarifying why so many people love these books. Her writing is witty and engaging and kept me reading even though the subject itself is on the academic side. If you do want to explore the genre, the best source for a recommendation is the podcast Just Plain Wrong where three Mennonite librarians irreverently dissect Mennonite romances on a weekly basis.

I was blown away by this book when I first read it, and it may be one of the best books I’ve ever read.

I laughed out loud at the wisecracking wit while tears actually dropped into my lap at the aching sadness as I read of the struggles of Yolande to stop her famous pianist sister Elfride from committing suicide and as she mines their strict Memonite past (including their father’s own suicide) for reasons for Elfride’s depression.

I kept gulping out hilarious bits to my partner while wiping my eyes and blowing my nose. I found it hard to put down to go and eat. When I finished it, I didn’t feel I’d read it; I felt I’d had a whole experience, and I set about recommending it to my reading group and all my friends.

The collective memory of Mennonites during the Holocaust has long been mythologized or has remained unexamined. A recent renewal of interest from both the Mennonite community itself and scholars of the Holocaust has led to a number of conferences and publications. This collection of essays showcases the latest scholarship and paints a complex portrait of Mennonites in both western and eastern Europe during the Holocaust. The book highlights the many roles that Mennonites played, largely due to their proximity to the events of the Holocaust, including as neighbors, killers, enablers, witnesses, and rescuers. The contributors discuss Mennonite identity, theology, agency, and collective memory, all situating their stories in local, national, and European geopolitical contexts. 

I love to cook, and given the passion Mennonites have for potlucks, this list wouldn’t be complete without a favorite cookbook recommendation. The trouble is, which one? There are so many classics. I grew up with the worn and scribbled-on pages of The Mennonite Community Cookbook and later the More-with-Less World Community Cookbook, but ultimately decided on Menno-Nightcaps because, well, I warned you this list is eclectic, right? This book is loaded with not just yummy, practical drink recipes, but loads of Mennonite history. My own husband wooed me with stories of his ancestor who supplied George Washington’s troops with whiskey. How could I not love a book like this? Trust me, it’ll be fun and you’ll never view Mennonites in quite the same way.  

As an author, I always pay attention to setting and scene changes in a book. But in Women Talking, there essentially were no scene changes. Yet it works.

Based on a horrific true story of violence and betrayal perpetrated on several Mennonite women by men of their community, the book is a fictionalized hours-long discussion by the women as they imagine a way forward. The stakes are enormous.

In this discussion, words matter to these women who have never been allowed to attend school but who want to adhere to the tenets of their religion, and as a writer I found it fascinating to eavesdrop on a possible conversation they might have had.

This lovely memoir follows Mary, the daughter of Mennonite Pastors. Her recollections are comical and heartwarming as she deals with growing up in a Mennonite home in a non-Mennonite community. The creativity that goes with being raised with little means and living frugally makes Mary and her family rich beyond belief in adventure and storytelling.

I’ve read this book several times and I don’t believe I ever manage to get through it without shedding a few tears. Have tissues handy. A Mennonite family living in Ukraine in the 1920s has their village destroyed by Russian soldiers. The central character, ten-year-old Peter Neufeld, makes a decision to help his older brother Otto escape after he’s participated in counter-attacks, going against the family’s adherence to passive resistance. The Neufelds decide to leave a land of oppression and move to Canada where they will make an effort to assimilate rather than live apart as they have in Ukraine. It’s a journey filled with challenges and heartbreak, but always with the strength of love of family and humanity as a sustaining factor.

As a novelist, I am impatient with books that follow familiar tropes or well-worn storylines.

This book takes a familiar premise – the Western story of a son whose father is murdered by a badman – and turns it on his head, for Euly Kreider, the wronged son, is a Mennonite pacifist who immediately rules out revenge. So where will this Western go?

Every chapter holds a surprise. As the title implies, this book loosely uses the Odyssey as a template for its deep dive into the history of the Oklahoma Land Rush.

I first read this book about Mennonites in western Canada during WWII while I was in college. Wiebe had the audacity to pull back the curtain and expose the very human inconsistencies between what we Mennonites believe and how we sometimes behave, particularly around pacifism, racism, and money. Mennonites pride (uh oh) ourselves on living our theology, so the book created quite a stir in the Mennonite world because Wiebe took some shine off the denomination. That very act raised important theological questions for me, ones that I’ll always grapple with in one form or another.

I like to think Wiebe would approve that I, too, have pulled back the curtain with Never Enough Flamingos.