I used to think of reading as a way to gain knowledge.
For a long time, I mostly read non-fiction. I liked the feeling that I was learning something, and even when I was reading, there was always a little part of me thinking about how I could be using my time better. If I was going to spend an hour reading, I wanted to come away from it having learned something useful.
It wasn’t until the start of last year that I dipped my feet into the world of fiction, not really knowing what it would bring. As I read more, I started to realise something: the books that stayed with me weren’t necessarily the ones that taught me the most. More often, they were the ones that made me feel something, ask questions, or see the world from a perspective I hadn’t considered before.
So this is a collection of the books that have stayed with me. The thoughts, feelings, and questions I carried with me after finishing them.
These aren’t really reviews or recommendations. They’re more a record of what stayed.
Tom Lake
I went into this one completely blind and didn’t expect to be left on the verge of tears by the end. Not because it was particularly sad, but because it hit something much more familiar: the feeling of all the alternate lives we didn’t live, and wondering whether we might have “missed” another possible path.
But there isn’t really a single path that’s definite or “correct”. We can imagine all the lives we could have lived, but we only ever get to experience the one we’re actually living.
I really loved that the story wasn’t told with a longing for the past. Instead, it felt like a reflection from a woman who had moved forward and genuinely loved the life her choices had brought her to.
There’s also such a strong sense of nostalgia throughout the book. It’s the kind of story that makes you want to sit under a tree in a gentle breeze and just let yourself think.
Meryl Streep’s narration really topped it off for me, too. This is one of those books where I think listening to it is even better than reading it.
My first Ann Patchett book, and definitely not my last.
I also really enjoyed the dual timelines and the way the story slowly revealed itself through them.
When Breath Becomes Air
I’ve read a few memoirs before, but I hadn’t quite found one that delivered the emotional depth I could resonate with. But this one really did, and more than I expected. At its core, the book reminded me that life is impermanent, and that there’s so much we can learn by paying attention to our own experiences.
It also reminded me that we may never fully understand what someone else is going through. But when we take the time to genuinely listen to someone’s story, we’re able to meet them with a level of understanding and respect that goes beyond trying to fully comprehend their experience.
This was one of those books that made me want to slow down and listen a little more carefully.
“Human knowledge is never contained in one person. It grows from the relationships we create between each other and the world, and still it is never complete.” — Paul Kalanithi
I Who Have Never Known Men
As a reader, I felt like I was sitting in such an unfamiliar world, but somehow that unfamiliarity was shared with the protagonist. The book made me feel deeply immersed in a sense of wonder, while also making me incredibly uncomfortable at times.
It’s dark and terrifying, but also strangely introspective. It swings between strong feelings of hope and the despair of hopelessness, confronting survival and the question of what it even means to live.
Usually, I don’t love books with so much ambiguity. I like having some sense of where everything is going. But I found myself thinking about this book for days after finishing it.
It left me with far more questions than answers, but somehow, that made sense.
The Happiness Project
I was recommended this book, and I found it surprisingly relevant to everyday life. It suggests lots of small, manageable actions that are easy to experiment with and ponder as you go about your day.
I wouldn’t say anything in it was particularly mind-blowing, and it may not be everyone’s cup of tea. But as a Type A person, I found that even the format of the book worked really well for me. It’s organised, structured, and gives you plenty of things to try.
Of course, not everyone has the time, energy, or resources to implement everything suggested in the book. But I think that’s part of the point. It’s a starting place, and ultimately, we’re the ones who have to figure out what actually works for us and what genuinely makes us happy.
Gretchen Rubin also has a great website with tons of resources that help break things down and reduce the mental load. I really liked how digestible the book was, especially with the mix of psychology and sociology research woven throughout her personal journey and evolving considerations.
For me, I think figuring that out comes from being open to trying different things and treating everyday life as a series of little experiments.
Daughters of the Sun and Moon
This was something a little different for me, as I haven’t read many historical novels.
Set against the backdrop of the 1871 Chinese Massacre in Los Angeles, this historical fiction novel is layered with stories of survival and belonging. It follows three Chinese women whose lives intersect in late nineteenth-century Los Angeles.
One of the things I appreciated most was how much I learned from it. There’s something about historical fiction that can teach you things you don’t quite find in a history textbook. Instead of simply giving you facts, it gives you people, experiences, and emotions to attach them to.
I was also really caught up in the three-tiered narration, which helped give the story a broader perspective.
The author’s note at the back was particularly insightful and honest about what See had compressed and combined, drawing from court records, newspapers, and contemporary accounts. I always appreciate when authors are transparent about the line between historical record and fiction.
One phrase that recurs throughout Daughters of the Sun and Moon is 吃苦 meaning “eating bitterness”, a Chinese expression for swallowing hardship without complaint. I found myself thinking about that phrase long after finishing the book and how that translates to me as a woman in today's society..
Whistler
After becoming a fan of Ann Patchett, I was eagerly waiting for this release.
There’s so much warmth in this novel. I wasn’t a huge fan of the ending, but by that point I was completely connected to this group of fictional characters. Their disappointments brought me pain, their joys brought me smiles, and before I knew it, I was reading the final chapters and didn’t want things to end.
The novel is also surprisingly difficult to categorise, which is part of what makes it special. It’s not just a family story, or a story about grief, or about reviving buried memories, forgiveness, regret, and second chances. It’s all of those things at once.
But beneath everything, I think what stayed with me was the idea of how much our past shapes who we become, and how that can change the way we understand the people we thought we knew all along.
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I’m still figuring out what kinds of books stay with me, and I’m sure this list will keep changing as I read more.
If you’re curious about what else I’m reading, you can find my bookshelf here with my ratings.