12 Immersive Reads About Families: the Good, the Complicated, and the Crazy

There are multiple titles on this list that give me pause, mostly in trying to convey just how beautiful and thought-provoking the quality of writing, how the largest observations are held in the simplest of lines. Thankfully, you don’t need to take my word for it; HEAVY is the winner of the Andrew Carnegie Medal and a finalist for the Kirkus Prize. Above all, the memoir is about a relationship between mother and son, one that both shapes and hurts, sharpens and guides, incites and hides. Kiese grew up in Jackson, Mississippi, and writes honestly and poetically about his experiences, many of which his mother has never wanted to talk about. 

This is another striking book about a mother and son relationship, this time divided by language and literacy. The novel is formatted as a letter to a Vietnamese mother, one she can never read. Here, too, I’m stunned by the incisiveness and deftness of prose, moving from scene to scene almost in a trance. The title alone evokes so much, the layers we unravel in the moments we have left; the text offers snapshots of a young man’s life as he recounts the most impactful and everyday moments, largely surrounded by family.  

I read this for a book club, and can attest to both the level of engaging conversation that followed and the eye-opening scenes rooted in the complex inner-workings of a family in rural Mississippi. There’s Jojo, whose life becomes more complicated when his father is released from prison and his mother drives the little family to the penitentiary. There’s his mother, Leonie, still haunted by the death of her brother and struggling to give her kids what they need. SING, UNBURIED, SING delves into father and son relationships, histories and legacies, and what we can teach one another. 

Every time I think about this book, the plot still blows my mind. Imagine that there are other versions of you resulting from other decisions, big and small, culminating in an expansion of multiverses. Imagine you end up somewhere else, separated from the version of the wife and son you know, surrounded by familiar faces who want to take them from you. DARK MATTER is a continuous thrill ride through the murkiness of self that will make you question everything you call your own and how far you would go to protect it. 

For me, the setting is one of the most memorable pieces about this book, so deeply rooted in the ambiance of New York City and then in an isolated farm upstate. The characters are equally as passionate about each other, even as they fall apart and attempt to pull themselves together again, experiencing a prolonged illness, witnessing the birth of a child. Always a kind of family, life leads this group of friends down segmented paths that sharpen and waiver with the beauty of Cunningham’s observations and prose. 

This rich, evocative story about generations of a family living between Jamaica and Harlem caught me by surprise in its breadth and ability to draw me into the minds of so many characters. And that ending! The tale begins with a faked identity, a daughter caring for a father she has no idea exists. Tracing back through points where crucial decisions were made and repercussions knowingly or unknowingly shared, THESE GHOSTS ARE FAMILY examines what we carry with us—especially our relationships with trauma and regret. 

I’ve been a fan of Rene Denfeld since her debut novel, THE ENCHANTED. Her use of vivid imagery, her way of portraying deeply troubled characters, and her sense of place weave a compelling, visceral story. THE BUTTERFLY GIRL is no different; following THE CHILD FINDER, this is the second book featuring PI Naomi Cottle, who spends her life looking for missing children. Growing up in foster care after a traumatic experience that tears her from her sister, Naomi runs with the hope that her sister is still alive somewhere; if she looks in the right corners, saving other children in peril, she may find a clue to her own sister’s whereabouts. 

As the title indicates, there are some familial divisions between floors in a home that quickly become a cult-like lure for a mesh of interesting people. Juggling between past and present, we know the outcome of events years ago, but not how they happened; the slow unraveling is as much mystery as an assessment of minds, the malleability of groups by leaders, and the construct of circumstance. In present day, we meet Libby Jones, who has inherited a mansion on her twenty-fifth birthday; soon we see others have been marking down the time to this exact moment. 

Keefe’s extensive research shows in the seemingly effortless way he helps picture complex scenes and their major players; in this case the “snakeheads,” who help people illegally enter the United States for absorbent fees, especially through New York City, the gangs that roam the Chinatown streets, and the families that sacrifice everything to go after what they believe will be better lives. At the center is Sister Ping, whose operation spans continents and leads the FBI down various paths for a decade. Sister Ping’s tale is only the tip of all that Keefe examines in this true story that peels back layers of immigration and exploitation and makeshift families.  

Families lodged in Greek myths have their own sets of troubles; Agamemnon, Clytemnestra, and their children are no different. In Colm Tóibín’s retelling, relationships are shattered, betrayed in the name of power and victory. Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter for a leg up in the war; Clytemnestra schemes for his downfall; their remaining children plot against their mother. The alternating perspectives embattle readers in the heat of the moment, enabling a deeper level of investment and understanding.  

This memoir follows the Cayton-Holland family, three siblings born to a civil rights lawyer and an investigative journalist. Adam, the narrator, describes his life in comedy, and the paths of his sisters. His younger sister, Lydia, helps him through a series of tough times; when she takes her own life, he’s lost, devastated. Through the honest and fragile moments infused with humor and realization, you’re reminded of the importance of family and the type of conversations that come from loss.