Growing up in New England, my mother had a set of books that she kept in the living room, more for display than anything else. It was The Works of Edgar Allen Poe. I read them and instantly became hooked on horror. In the seventh grade, I entertained my friends at a sleepover by telling them the mysterious clanking noise (created by the baseboard heater) was the ghost of a woman who had once lived in the farmhouse, forced to cannibalize her ten children during a particularly bad winter. And I’ve been enjoying scaring people ever since.
You don’t have to travel far for very bad things to happen to you, as the main characters in this book discover when they ignore local warnings about fishing in a nearby creek. I consider this a masterwork in any genre, and I’m actually re-reading it right now, even though it kinda broke me the first time.
It’s a Lovecraftian, cosmic horror story that also creates a kind of allegory for grief. Having lost my parents in my late twenties, it felt like a fantastical yet unnervingly accurate reflection of the experience.
In upstate New York, in the woods around Woodstock, Dutchman's Creek flows out of the Ashokan Reservoir. Steep-banked, fast-moving, it offers the promise of fine fishing, and of something more, a possibility too fantastic to be true. When Abe and Dan, two widowers who have found solace in each other's company and a shared passion for fishing, hear rumors of the Creek, and what might be found there, the remedy to both their losses, they dismiss it as just another fish story. Soon, though, the men find themselves drawn into a tale as deep and old as the Reservoir. It's…
I’m a British author who has always had a fascination with magical realism and novels that blend the serious with the strange. For that reason, though I write literary fiction for adults, I take so much of my inspiration from children’s literature. There’s something so simple about how kids’ books stitch the extraordinary into the every day without having to overexplain things. I now live not far from the forest that inspired A. A. Milne’s Hundred Acre Wood, and my latest novel is set in and inspired by this part of rural England–with all the mystery and magic that a trip into the woods entails.
In this claustrophobic modern classic, a grieving father and Ted Hughes scholar finds himself haunted by an oily, unnerving, anthropomorphic crow.
I’m a fan of anything Porter writes, but his debut is deserving of the indelible mark it’s made upon the modern literary landscape. The crow is a character like no other, and Porter’s poetry brings this strange and beautiful bird to life.
A SUNDAY TIMES TOP 100 NOVEL OF THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
Winner of the 2016 International Dylan Thomas Prize and the Sunday Times/Peter, Fraser + Dunlop Young Writer of the Year award and shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award and the Goldsmiths Prize.
In a London flat, two young boys face the unbearable sadness of their mother's sudden death. Their father, a Ted Hughes scholar and scruffy romantic, imagines a future of well-meaning visitors and emptiness.
In this moment of despair they are visited by Crow - antagonist, trickster, healer, babysitter. This sentimental bird is drawn to the grieving family…
I am a Wiltshire-based writer with a passion for historical and literary fiction and a fascination for the role of “memory” in the autumn of our lives. My own novel was inspired by conversations with my late grandfather in his final years. But as a journalist for more than 20 years, I had many rich opportunities to talk to the elderly members of our communities–most memorably, taking a pair of D-Day veterans back to the beaches of Normandy. In many ways, memories are the only things we can take with us throughout our lives, carrying both the burden of regrets and the consolation of those we have loved.
John Banville's 2005 novel, tells the story of a widower who returns to the seaside town of his childhood family holidays and where he fell in love for the first time.
Banville artfully weaves together the strands of the different times in Max Morden's life to create a tapestry of love and loss. He paints a haunting portrait of the beachside community and its characters.
I found the language spellbindingly descriptive and evocative of a distinctive place and time. At times, it borders on poetry. There is humour and pathos aplenty. It is a beautiful but beautifully sad novel, filled with sad people. Ultimately, this symphony of sadness crescendos to a heart-wrenching ending.
BOOKER PRIZE WINNER • NATIONAL BESTSELLER • An “extraordinary meditation on mortality, grief, death, childhood and memory" (USA Today) about a middle-aged Irishman who has gone back to the seaside to grieve the loss of his wife.
In this luminous novel, John Banville introduces us to Max Morden, a middle-aged Irishman who has gone back to the seaside town where he spent his summer holidays as a child to cope with the recent loss of his wife. It is also a return to the place where he met the Graces, the well-heeled family with whom he experienced the strange suddenness…
I am passionate about writing books that put good into the world and highlight meaningful and inspiring themes, which, in turn, means I am also passionate about reading books that do the same. I love to write and read books that leave the reader feeling like there is still good in the world, even when it seems to be very dark around us. If people read my books or any on this list, I sincerely hope they feel encouraged and inspired and enjoy them as much as I do.
I recommend this book only if you like to cry – but like… the good kind of crying. It’s a raw and emotional fiction story about dealing with the grief of losing a spouse, and it is incredibly well-written. I had no idea what I was getting myself into the first time I picked up this book, but I greatly enjoyed the emotional roller coaster.
Whenever people ask me for a book recommendation that will emotionally challenge them, I always recommend this one.
They used to joke about it. Like many brilliant scientists, Josh sometimes had trouble remembering things that needed doing in the “real” world—like buying groceries, eating regular meals, and talking to people. But he was happy to have his beloved wife, Lauren, remind him with her “honey do” lists. He just never realized how much he would need one when she was gone.
Being a widower is not something Joshua Park ever expected. Given his solitary job, small circle of friends and family, and the social awkwardness he’s always suffered from, Josh has no idea how to negotiate this new,…
I hold degrees in law and psychology, and have a keen interest in behavioural science and forensic psychology. As a thriller writer and a reader, I love exploring the darker side of the human mind. I have always been more interested in why somebody commits a crime than in how they got caught. What causes the average person to commit a horrific crime? Do 'average' people even exist? Are some people just wired a certain way and can't help what they do? These are the questions I like to explore in the books I read as well as the ones I write.
This book terrified me, mainly because I happened to read it just after getting out of a long-term relationship. The premise itself is pretty perverse, or maybe sad depending on your viewpoint – a widow who hasn’t moved on since the death of his wife holds auditions for a fake movie so that he can find his perfect mate. As you’ll see in my own novel, auditions can often be the perfect cover for something more sinister. In this case though, it’s the auditionee who gets the upper hand. Very creepy and with a great twist, Audition is definitely one to read.
In this gloriously over-the-top tale, Aoyama, a widower who has lived alone with his son ever since his wife died seven years before, finally decides it is time to remarry. Since Aoyama is a bit rusty when it comes to dating, a filmmaker friend proposes that, in order to attract the perfect wife, they do a casting call for a movie they don't intend to produce. As the resumes pile up, only one of the applicants catches Aoyama's attention-Yamasaki Asami-a striking young former ballerina with a mysterious past. Blinded by his instant and total infatuation, Aoyama is too late in…
Like A Gentleman in Moscow, The Shadow of the Wind immersed me in a world I was eager to know more about. The story is both a celebration of books and an up-close look at Spain under the fascist Franco. The use of well-known places in Barcelona added plenty of sugar on top!
"The Shadow of the Wind is ultimately a love letter to literature, intended for readers as passionate about storytelling as its young hero." -Entertainment Weekly (Editor's Choice)
"One gorgeous read." -Stephen King
Barcelona, 1945: A city slowly heals in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, and Daniel, an antiquarian book dealer's son who mourns the loss of his mother, finds solace in a mysterious book entitled The Shadow of the Wind, by one Julian Carax. But when he sets out to find the author's other works, he makes a shocking discovery: someone has been…
This was a new author for me, and she hooked me
within the first few chapters. I didn't realize I was reading the second book
in the series first, but it didn't matter.
She writes like a Criminal Minds
episode. There were so many twists and turns. I kept trying to guess the bad
guy and failed! It was downright psychologically scary. I loved the biblical
elements woven throughout. It wasn't so gruesome that I wouldn't want to share
this book with my daughter or other family members.
I love a great
psychological thriller, and this had all the feels and checked all the boxes,
even more boxes that I realized I enjoyed! Now, whenever I see Patch's
name on a book, I know I'll have to read it!
Deep in the Kentucky hills, three women have been found brutalized and murdered. But the folks in Night Holler have their own ways and their own laws. And they’re not talking…
Led to an isolated Appalachian Mountain town by a trail of disturbing murders, FBI special agent Violet Rainwater’s determined to catch a serial killer with a twisted agenda. With locals refusing to reveal their secrets, Violet’s only ally is Detective John Orlando. But even John has an ulterior motive—he’s convinced this case is connected to his wife’s murder.
As they dig deeper, Violet uncovers a link to her own…
Throughout my teenage and early adult years, I experienced episodes of mental illness. Thankfully, it seems to be behind me, but it's not something I’ll ever forget, and I find myself deeply intrigued by the manifestations of those darker aspects in others. Some people hurt themselves and some hurt others, the common thread is the presence of pain and suffering. As heartrending as this reality is, it holds a certain fascination for me, both in real life and in literature. That’s why I write about it; that’s why I read about it.
I loved this book. The concept is brilliant, and as a writer, I’m a little envious that I didn’t come up with it myself. Again, it’s a twisted mind that makes this story.
Laura is someone you hate more with every word that you read, but you can’t stop reading. We get a backstory as to why she is how she is, but regardless, witnessing how she acts as a result, and to people at their most desperate, is very dark.
She's a friendly voice on the phone. But can you trust her?
The people who call End of the Line need hope. They need reassurance that life is worth living. But some are unlucky enough to get through to Laura. Laura doesn't want them to hope. She wants them to die.
Laura hasn't had it easy: she's survived sickness and a difficult marriage only to find herself heading for forty, unsettled and angry. She doesn't love talking to people worse off than she is. She craves it.
I came of age in Oklahoma as a gay youth in the late 1970s and early 1980s, keeping myself hidden out of safety and shame. Once I was old enough to leave my small-minded town and be myself, I crashed headlong into the oncoming AIDS epidemic. It set me on a path to understanding the world and my place in it as a homosexual. I turned to reading about the lives and histories of those who came before me, to learn about their deaths and survivals in what could be an ugly, brutal world. These works continue to draw me, haunt me, and inspire me to share my story through my writing.
The quiet endurance of grief. I love this small, meditative novella that captures the essence of grief as it continues to linger in the body, the mind, and the heart long past the comfortability of those around you.
While the story focuses on the main character, an aging, gay professor who has come to Washington, DC, for a visiting professorship after losing his mother to a long illness, each person encountered is grieving something in their own way (I truly love that Holleran mirrors the main character’s grief with that of Mary Todd Lincoln’s after losing her husband to an assassin but also still grieving the death of her son via a biography he’s reading).
What I find so beautiful about this book is that Holleran doesn’t go for the theatrics of grief. He keeps the story and the emotions calm, methodic, and persistent with such great care to craft…
In the tradition of Michael Cunningham's The Hours, a beautiful novel destined to become a classic
Reeling from the recent death of his invalid mother, a worn, jaded professor comes to our nation's capital to recuperate from his loss. What he finds there--in his repressed, lonely landlord, in the city's mood and architecture, and in the letters and journals of Mary Todd Lincoln--shows him new, poignant truths about America, yearning, loneliness, and mourning itself.
Since Andrew Holleran first burst onto the scene with 1978's groundbreaking Dancer from the Dance, which has been continuously in print, he has been dazzling readers…
This book transported me to the Berlin of today, where desperate immigrants are
struggling to find a way to live.
It put me alongside a retired professor
(which I am) who slowly comes to know some of these African men and who tries
to help them and to make their lives easier, and in the process, realizes that
his life as a widower and as someone no longer with a job or a title still can
have enormous meaning for him and for others.
It is a book about the world outside of books and how people can
endeavor to make that a better world.
Go, Went, Gone is the masterful new novel by the acclaimed German writer Jenny Erpenbeck, "one of the most significant German-language novelists of her generation" (The Millions). The novel tells the tale of Richard, a retired classics professor who lives in Berlin. His wife has died, and he lives a routine existence until one day he spies some African refugees staging a hunger strike in Alexanderplatz. Curiosity turns to compassion and an inner transformation, as he visits their shelter, interviews them, and becomes embroiled in their harrowing fates. Go, Went, Gone is a scathing indictment of Western policy toward the…
