100 books like Booth

The Winds of War is a powerful and intimate story about WWII.

It follows one fictional family through the buildup to the most devastating war in human history. The cultural and political details are most impressive. The writing itself is captivating. I have used it as a model for my own book.

Wouk’s work demonstrates the impact of war on families and establishes the importance of advocating for peaceful resolutions to global disputes.

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.

Yes, I know this is a novel, but Mantel’s historical research is impeccable and no one has done more to bring to light the shadowy, intrigue-filled court of Henry VIII. Mantel explores the intersection of political power and personal ambition as she traces the career of Thomas Cromwell, a rags-to-riches courtier.

I could almost taste the food, smell the decay, and touch the damp walls of the buildings. She took me deep into the consciousness of the unlikeable yet sympathetic and lonely main character, as he serves his monarch and defeats his enemies.

The drama is gripping.

As somber and sobering as the Icelandic landscape it takes place in, this tale of the last person condemned to die in that remote country at the turn of the 19th century is one of endurance and hope in the face of injustice.

In vivid and atmospheric writing, Kent brings a little-known historical figure into a new light, leaving us with a new and lasting legacy for someone few knew or cared for before.

Kent has resurrected Agnes into an unforgettable, all-too-human being whose place in history would surely be among those forgotten without her sensitive and moving book,

I read this one in college, and it sparked my imagination for years and years. Set in 1890s New York, it combines the lowbrow pleasures of gory crime with lots of nifty historical settings and facts (the history of psychiatry! Early forensic science! Gilded Age politics!).

I read it on my bottom bunk in the dorms in about 8 hours, probably while I should have been studying. I’d love to recapture that intensity of pleasure in reading, but a job and two small children make it tricky. 

Beautifully written and masterfully crafted, the story of Anne Askew, the real central character in Prize for the Fire, brings us to the brink of understanding the power of belief and commitment in a medieval world turned up-side-down by politics and religion.

To the brink, but it would be impossible to get closer than that to Anne’s personal core principles she would rather die for than not relinquish. Questions about faith, fidelity, and fealty are woven across Anne’s short life, exposing the chasm between conviction and practice in the world controlled by fear of power and doctrine.

A fascinating dive into the life of a woman with a huge impact on the world today that few have people have heard of.

Gertrude Bell was an extraordinary woman, a fearless risktaker with a vision she pursued against all odds. In a time when women kept to their place, Bell forged a path of her own while managing to become accepted and lauded in a very male world. You will be amazed by what she achieved.

Forget the movie with Nicole Kidman, which was barely watchable. This is the real story.

How Jane Digby escaped public notoriety in the present day is miraculous and certainly no reflection of the reputation she garnered in her own time.

If Gertrude Bell pushed the Edwardians into the post-colonial future, Digby forged the path for her. I have to wonder if Bell well knew of Digby’s life in the Middle East after she blithely married and liaised across Europe on her way. Gobsmackingly independent, she cared little for public opinion in making her choices. 

As the daughter of an alcoholic, I took enough college psychology classes to know I was part of an unchosen cycle, at risk to continue the family chaos.

Despite my resistance, my personal, unanticipated, troubled behavior did emerge, baffling me, and this book was exactly what I needed to sort things out, especially when I became a parent and feared contaminating my children.

Reading about negative, senseless, and too-familiar family habits of concealment, disparagement, anger, pain, and especially the role-playing coping mechanisms that commonly develop in a dysfunctional family, gave me hope.

Family hero, scapegoat, quiet one, mascot, all of these I recognized clearly. By learning, understanding, and erasing the blame, I could redefine normal and finally “crawl out of the trap.”

In a world where addiction is associated with “abuse” and “addicts” are often depicted as morally depraved, physically unfit, and mentally unsound, it’s not difficult to figure out why people suffering from addiction – and their family members– are in denial. They simply don’t fit the stereotype. When Terry McGovern, daughter of Senator George McGovern, was a college student, she drank an average of five or six beers, three or four shots of hard liquor, or a bottle of wine every day. Despite her increasingly heavy drinking, occasional marijuana and barbiturate use, and suicidal behavior, Terry’s psychotherapist did not believe that she was an alcoholic; instead, he diagnosed her underlying problems as depression and unresolved psychological conflicts – a clear case of “professional denial.” It’s a fact that many of us have experienced childhood trauma. But when drug use continues despite serious and recurring problems, the “real problem” that must… show more.