100 books like The Double Bind

I love historical fiction, especially when authors throw in a touch of crime. So, that’s what first drew me to this book.

What kept me reading and what made me rank this novel so highly is the gradual unlayering of the main character as the story progresses. Sure, Kya is a victim and a survivor, but she is so much more, and she is capable of more than I could have anticipated. As in some of my other favorite novels, it’s that loyalty to human nature, the understanding that circumstances can make good choices wrong and poor choices right, that pulled me in.

If I had known the ending when I started the book, I might not have believed it possible, but Delia Owens made it work.

Upmarket Women’s Fiction at its finest! Women’s Fiction isn’t, incidentally, fiction written by or necessarily for women.

It comprises rich stories in which the plot is driven by the protagonist’s emotional journey. You’ll always witness external events creating an interesting and lasting impact from beginning to end, changing our main character inside forever. 

In Five Years excels at that, and packs a devastating, shocking, powerful punch in the process. I cried, but experiencing this story was worth it.

The sickness or death of a child is a particularly sharp arrow to the average person’s heart.

But I think anyone who’s suffered the loss of a child, seen their child’s life in jeopardy, or is close to someone who’s been through one of those situations is even more sensitive to the topic. My heart and soul were battered from word one, but I had to read this book.

How far would a parent go to save her child? This story explored the question from many angles in a poignant way and left me in tears. I dare people to read it and not ask themselves the same questions.

Through a series of tall tales told by an impish old lady to a lost, lonely woman visiting a nursing home, Fannie Flagg whisks the reader back to the deep south circa 1929 to an off-beat love story between two women who run a cozy café, and a rich mystery that gives the lost woman the courage to make heroic changes in her life.

This delectable book was a huge inspiration for me when writing my debut novel. I love how the wisdom-filled folk-tale-like chapters are quilted together to tell a larger story. And, like my own book, it contains a bucket full of tasty recipes!

This is more literary than crime but Chandler has at the heart of her book a woman with serious mental illness; she captures the soul of a troubled woman and the rippling effects of past and psychosis, as well as the vagaries of memory. And there is a mystery to work out; it was short-listed for the Sisters in Crime Davitt’s award.

I would say this book, which delves into the complexities of mental illness, was way ahead of its time. Even as a teenager, I understood the deftness of using two simple words in the title to clearly illustrate the complexities of extreme moods.

The author sets this story in a suburban high school, which I could relate to, as a group of friends witness the increasingly erratic behavior of one of their classmates, Lisa. In deciding how to help, each friend must confront her own fears and prejudices.

Even though the girls often don’t know what to do, I loved how steadfastly supportive and loyal they remained. As a result, the book ends up being less about mental illness and more about how empathy and compassion can overcome the stigma surrounding it.

Susanne Paola Antonetta’s first book, Body Toxic: An Environmental Memoir taught me how memoir can be compiled through multiple lenses—one that invites into the author’s self-view and another through which you can learn about place and environmental degradation. With two (or more) questions, who-I-am becomes complicated and textured. Antonetta’s new The Terrible Unlikelihood of Our Being Here illustrates that understanding ourselves comes only through looking at those selves through other texts, other people, our current understanding of ourselves, science, place, and our childhood’s vision of the world.

Antonetta takes quantum entanglement, her grandmother’s Christian Science beliefs, and her own account of spending summers at the shore in a small hut with her family whose history of mental health—and professional accomplishments—is complexly textured. In a section called “The Problem of the Past,” Antonetta describes the behavior of photon particles. In the double-slit experiment, if you send one beam of light through… show more.

This riveting American Gothic novel, set in 1865, follows a widowed Civil War Army nurse home to New Hampshire after her bloody stint of tending the wounded and sick, only to find that her beloved, but unstable, sister is dead in a fall from the roof of the asylum. The cause is ruled a suicide, but she is not convinced and determines to find the truth at all costs. The period is synchronic with that of The Abolitionist’s Daughter and the depth of research fascinated me. Blakemore’s writing and extensive attention to sensual detail is exceptional. Since I have my own yet-to-be-titled historical mystery due for release in the Spring of 2022, I loved delving into this twisting page-turner with a woman of determination in an equivalent period of history.

I’m a BIG Greg Iles fan—he (in my opinion) writes a lot like Stephen King, but instead of horror, leans more into the twisty-thriller category that I find electrifying.

For those unfamiliar with Iles’ work, this book is a great place to start, as it has the right amount of everything that makes a great read: twists and turns, a likable protagonist in an awful situation, and page-turning goodness that will keep you glued to the couch. It explores the dark side of obsession, giving this story that "erotic" label that pushed me toward my new genre.

A man called “Pepper,” who may or may not suffer from mental illness, ends up in a locked mental ward in Queens, New York, where the entire novel takes place.

A beast, who the patients believe is the devil, comes out at night, assaulting and sometimes killing patients. Patient deaths are chalked up to suicide. The engaging, quirky characters—drugged to the gills while warehoused and essentially untreated in a public hospital—share the defining feature of being low-income and unprotected from both the supernatural and human forces that would destroy them. They must take matters into their own hands to protect themselves.

I appreciated the theme of how marginalization and isolation presented as much terror here as the supernatural. Yet, the hope and humor of the characters also kept me engaged and frequently smiling.