The most recommended books about saints

Annie writes for the larger women, and in this body-conscious world, it's nice to have some real figured women out there. Not all of us are a size 6.

I love how Annie brings her heroines to life, how her leading men know who and what they want, how they want it. It's realistic and as spicy as all hell, especially this one, as it plays on an aspect that is often frowned upon: a huge age gap. It's a daddy kink. And a whole lot of others. 

I’m a sucker for any story about a real woman in history.

Hild is the story of Hilda of Whitby, whom we meet as a child in 7th-century Britain. It's a novel that revels in language and sensory detail, when it comes to both the natural world and the human one. It is particularly interested in relationships between women.

This novel puts us into the mindset of a girl growing up in an age of political ferment, in the context of a whole set of traditions and stories, and helps us understand why she makes the choices she does.

One of the tropes I always one-click is the well-bred lady with an earthy, pull-himself-up-by-the-bootstraps kind of guy. Sutton’s Spinster gives you all that and more. Jasper has built his wealth by running a successful gaming hell. When two young daughters land on his doorstep, he finds himself in need of a wife. Octavia dreams of creating a gossip journal, but needs a partner to provide the start-up funds. The heat between these two lights up the pages. I love how Jasper reacts to suddenly becoming a father, and how he transforms from a hard and cutthroat businessman to something softer because of Octavia. Scarlett Scott delivered with this one.

The Lost Letters of Pergamum imagines an exchange of letters between Luke, the evangelist, and a fictional character Antipas. Longenecker imagines Antipas to be a Roman civic leader who has come across Luke’s writings and wants to ask him more about what he has written. The book consists of fictional letters between Luke and Antipas in which matters of faith and life in the first century are explored. Eventually a gladiatorial contest in Pergamum forces Antipas to make some hard choices. As with the other books I have chosen this book brings the world of the first century to life and sheds light on some of the key issues that would have affected Christians in that period.

For most of us, the greatest enemy isn’t from without, but from within. This is true today and was just as true nearly two millennia ago when Saint Augustine of Hippo wrote his Confessions, the first autobiography. His struggles with sin and vice should be relatable to us all, especially his difficulty in abandoning his worldly desires. Would most of us be so brave as to abandon our wants for something far greater?

Peg Kehret brings humor and a genuine can-do attitude to her memoir about being struck by polio when she was twelve years old, leaving her paralyzed in both her arms and legs. The story of her fight to recover and to walk again is enriched by her friendship with fellow patients, the generous love of her family, and the care of a determined nurse. Peg is neither saint nor grouch—just someone you like as much as you admire. This is a feel-good book about a feel-bad topic. 

Yet more dysfunctional families and tormented sibling relationships, but this book is funny as well as clever, and I loved the fractured relationships between Alice and Hanna, twins who have always been saint and sinner. Now the two women are adults, nothing has turned out as they expected in their lives and they struggle with each other as well as with their domineering mother and critical older brother. Some great family tension and well-written dialogue, and despite the subject matter, this isn’t a book that will leave you down-hearted.

Let’s take things in a different direction with Story of a Soul, the spiritual autobiography of a French nun who died in cloistered obscurity in 1897 at the age of 24. Like a lot of people, I was initially skeptical about what wisdom this sheltered, middle-class young woman would have to offer; at first blush, her piety seemed conventional and old-fashioned. But the more I read, the more she won me over: underneath the sometimes-flowery language I discovered a fierce passion (all those exclamation marks!), a refreshing forthrightness, and cunning wisdom that actually subverts conventional piety with its “littleness.” Story of a Soul isn’t an instruction manual; rather, it’s the very personal, joyful account of one young woman’s “little way” to Jesus—a way so simple, anyone can follow it.

This story featured a cop just trying to get her job done. She’s not a saint, but she busts her backside to solve the mystery while wading through office politics.

Kate’s not perfect. She makes mistakes, but she’s got an admirable sense of determination to see justice done.

I think there’s a killer fight scene at the end of the book.

Strong language warning on this one too.

Helena is Evelyn Waugh’s most overlooked novel but it is my favourite. I love it for how Waugh depicts Helena, the mother of the Emperor Constatine, but what raises it to a place in any best-of list is a passage of writing that ranks as Waugh’s best - and he sets a very high bar for himself. Towards the end of the book Helena prays for her salvation but, reading it, we realise that Waugh is praying for his own salvation too, for those “who have had a tedious journey to make to the truth, of all who are confused with knowledge and speculation… of all who stand in danger by reason of their talents.” 

Although written as a play, it has a foreword detailing its subject—the life of Joan of Arc. Joan was the inspiration and much-admired heroine of Rebecca Roberts in my own book. Based closely on the Inquisition records, it has very moving moments, whether read or performed as a play.

I started reading this book on the plane on vacation, and that was it. I couldn’t put it down. I read the entire series in just a few days and still remember being impressed with how the author wasn’t afraid to break some of the typical tropes usually found in genre fiction. As an author, I believe there’s a fine line between making your characters powerless over their circumstances, perhaps even hopeless at times, but never weak. I think Ms. Mary did this exceptionally well.

Out of all my recommendations, this one is a true mafia romance in the Hotter Than Hell series. But make no mistake, this isn’t the typical mafia romance where the hot/rich/dangerous guy comes in and sweeps the virgin/young/beautiful girl off her feet into a glamourous life where she’s pampered, but never loses her “I’m just a down-to-earth kinda gal” personality. I’ve met Ms. Roberts personally, and know she’s worked as a sex crime detective in real life, which has enabled her to bring some of those experiences to her books. While she never shies away from the hard stuff, she also never glorifies violence, and instead focuses on the emotional aftermath of trauma and the message that love really can conquer all.

In Voices, David Elliott uses formal verse to explore the last hours that Joan of Arc lived. Told from multiple points of view, including the voice of the flame that will burn Joan at the stake, Elliott chooses specific poetic forms to reflect fundamental truths about the different characters. All forms of verse in the book were popular during Joan’s actual lifetime, and Elliott provides an interesting author’s note at the back of the book. Aside from being a poetic tour de force, Voices is a true page-turner, and readers will root for Joan to triumph over her enemies, even as they dread the inevitable outcome.

The only nonfiction book on my list, this memoir is written by a highly functional, medically diagnosed, nonviolent sociopath who shares how someone with this disorder thinks, feels, and acts.

She will shoplift for no reason. When her husband confronts her, she shows no remorse, but she does return the stolen item.

Like a child who will never learn, she constantly needs reminders of how to navigate a world of rules and regulations.

Personally, I have no tolerance or patience to constantly parent another adult who is wired without a conscious. Lucky for Thomas, she has a loving husband who should be nominated for sainthood. 

It isn’t often that a book makes me actually exclaim aloud while I’m reading it. The turns of plot and turns of phrase in this novel are awe-inspiring.

It’s a fantasy novel set in a place that is just as weird and unhinged as the actual countries, cities, and belief systems that human beings have created. This is one of those books that makes me want to level up as a writer – and I can’t even be jealous about it, because I’m just so happy it exists in the world.

Talk about sacrilege. Although my dad’s side of the family is Irish Catholic, he had nothing to do with the Church once he went to college, where he met my mom. Several years later, they split up. I was raised Southern Baptist by my mom, New Age/Buddhism/Unitarianism on alternating weekends from my dad, and rosary prayers and Virgin Mary sightings shared with me from my grandmother. The point is, to read a superb novel about Jesus having a relationship with Mary Magdalene, is something that would have shocked my Baptist Sunday School teacher. What does this have to do with Ireland? Cunningham describes Maeve aka Mary, as a woman raised by witches on a druid isle—where she first meets Jesus who was there for a bit of druid training—and is kidnapped and sold into Roman slavery. From there, she faces numerous challenges before finding the man she knew… show more.

I love all of Peek’s Saint stories, but this one really speaks to me. It’s an action-packed story that starts strong—with great tragedy—and goes deep. While the saints inspire me, biographies don’t suck me in and keep me turning the pages late into the night. This story does, and it brings the saint to life. In some ways, Cloud is an ordinary man. He struggles with grief, fear, anger, doubt, and even jealousy, making him easy to relate to. But he does not rely on his strength alone. He turns to God, grows in his love for God, and rises above his faults, becoming what we are all called to become: a saint! And that’s what inspires me.

This brand-new, prize-winning book is a gorgeous synthesis of some of the most important trends in current Iberian studies. Early modern empire-building, missionary efforts, and the African slave trade fostered a new cult of black saints, which Rowe documents through stunning photography from tiny and forgotten churches across the peninsula. In focusing on black saints and their devotees—a largely understudied part of early modern Catholic culture—Rowe not only centers and elevates the diverse and often marginalized individuals who shaped global Catholicism, but also emphasizes important conversations about race and inclusion in early modern society.

Like for Aristotle, this is no easy read, but Augustine must be credited with planting in the clearest and most dramatic way the central doubt: cannot we want and do something merely for the sake of the evil or wrong we would commit?

His story of the pear theft is bound to leave an impression on anyone, regardless of one’s religious background. Later Christian philosophers will try to get around Augustine’s doubts, with more or less success.