96 books like The Wind Knows My Name

Although this book is something of a rival to my own and borrows heavily from my book—but with attribution—it is deserving of the Pulitzer Prize it received for its sympathetic portrayal of its main character.

The primary author, Marty Sherwin, was my dissertation advisor; he and I argued for many years, until his death, over the truth about Oppenheimer. Although I yield to no one in my response and admiration for Marty, my book is right.  

This book (despite being a novel, unlike my other recommendations) taught me so much about a migration route I was less familiar with.

Coming from the UK, my work has been naturally Europe-centric and focuses on migration routes from The Middle East and East Africa to Northern Europe.

This book highlights the journey of a family crossing Mexico to get to America, and it blew my mind. I couldn’t put it down and was so invested in the characters' safe arrival to their final destination. 

I am a devoted fan of Barbara Kingsolver, and The Lacuna is my favorite of all her works.

The book follows the fascinating, tragic life of one Harrison Shepherd, born in the U.S. but raised in a series of fantastical situations in Mexico made believable by Kingsolver’s unique skill. Shepherd’s brushes with fame and history reveal much about the character of Mexico and that of the United States.

He is brutally caught up in the nationalist, paranoid fears of both countries’ governments and the even wilder judgments of public opinion. A thrilling, artful read.

This is a vivid reimagining of the Stalinist plot to assassinate Leon Trotsky, ultimately successful in 1940, and its repercussions in the Communist world. Iván, a frustrated Cuban writer, discovers this story, suppressed in Cuba, when he meets an aged foreigner walking his Russian greyhounds. Sensing a mystery like Raymond Chandler’s The Man Who Liked Dogs, Iván teases information from the man, who turns out to be Ramón Mercader (b. Barcelona, 1913), Trotsky’s assassin.

We also follow Trotsky’s precarious exile in Turkey, Europe, and finally Mexico, his marital and other conflicts and his inability to protect his sons and ultimately himself from murder—and how Mercader, a fervent Communist idealist, is turned by his Stalinist masters into the robot-like agent programed to infiltrate Trotsky’s circle and kill him.

This was one of the most sensitive portrayals of the effects of deportation on families that I’ve ever read.

I resonated even more strongly because it was set in New York City (my hometown), and the descriptions of different neighborhoods really came to life. I also appreciated the dual point of view narration (the story is told from both the mother and son’s perspective), and I could relate to both characters, even when they made difficult choices that ended up being hurtful. 

Martin Espada’s poems continually wow me, both with the way he uses language and with his choice of material.

This collection includes the poem “Floaters,” the word used by Border Patrol to describe those who die crossing the river, and specifically the incident where a father and daughter died attempting to swim across the Rio Grande, and Border Patrol insisted the photo was fake.

Having witnessed at the child detention center in Homestead, Florida, Espada’s poem "Ode to the Soccer Ball Sailing Across the Barbed Wire Fence" also rang with compassion for the children separated from their parents and locked up.

I love the simplicity of this book and the direct way in which the poet conveys his experience as a volunteer for a group that provides medical care and support for migrants crossing the Sonora Dessert.

Gamble’s close-up view of objects like an abandoned Hello Kitty backpack and a can of pinto beans with ants crawling into the slit allows him to shed light on much deeper stories of human suffering, evoking the reader’s sympathy without proselytizing. 

This new novel from Libyan writer Matar is mainly a story about the love between friends, especially male friends, but that love is set against displacement and trauma and the psychological difficulties of being separated from one's country, family, culture, and identity.

A contemplative, deeply thoughtful novel, it is totally engaging and searingly honest, just as much about being a human being as it is about political ideologies or survivor guilt. 

This novel had to go to the top of my list because it’s brilliant and delivered through an indigenous perspective.

Authored by the Swedish Sámi journalist Ann-Helén Laestadius, the book tells a story–based on real events–involving reindeer, an essential part of culture and identity for many Sámi. It takes place in a part of the world where I spent many years, Sápmi, which is the Sámi region that contains parts of, and predates, the modern borders of Sweden, Norway, Finland, and the Kola Peninsula of Russia.

Laestadius brings a compelling voice to the still prevalent issue of prejudice against this cultural minority. A film adaptation of the book will air on Netflix in April 2024, and I’m excited to see it because so many friends from that part of the world worked on it.  

I was drawn to this book by the cover. Set in New York, famous erotica writer Eva Mercy is a single mom with a depilating auto-immune disease. Eva’s experiences of the writing life as a Black woman and how she managed her health drew me to her.

However, the unexpected connection between Eva and Shane, the award-winning literary writer she reunites with during a literary event, was my favorite part of this book. I loved how each writer’s trauma-informed the stories they told. I found myself encouraged to write about my own traumas in my stories. But what I loved the most about this book is how the sensual scenes between Eva and Shane were more about connection than sex.

I was inspired by Eva’s resoluteness in making a life for herself and being the mother she never had for herself and her daughter.