15 book recommendations (+ three poetry anthologies) for those who feel everything

An homage to some of my favourite books (a.k.a. the books that make me weep)

As we know by now, I feel everything. I can’t do anything by halves. If I’m sad, I’m sobbing. If I am overjoyed, I’m also sobbing. I am essentially a woman of infinite tears. My tear ducts are working overtime.

If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you feel the same, too. Please see this article as a warm hug – come on in, take a seat, and get a piping cup of tea. Grab the chocolate (or preferred snack of your choice) and nestle in for fifteen books and three poetry anthologies that understand strong emotions, and offer us a cosy bothy in which to escape from the storm outside.

For each book, I will let you know why I feel it is appropriate for the sensitive reader, and a stand-out quote that embodies the overall feeling of the book. Also, I will try my utmost to give you a very brief synopsis of the books – otherwise, we will both be here forever! There is a fairly even mixture of fiction and non-fiction, so please enjoy!

(Please note, the list is in no particular order.)

1. In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado

Why? The exceptional reflection on human relationships.

A personal favourite quote:

“Heterosexuals have never known what to do with queer people, if they think of their existence at all.” (p. 157)

Enter, my annotated and worn copy of this book; I couldn’t not include it. Before I say anything else about it, it is worth noting that the subject matter surrounds an abusive relationship, so please note the trigger warnings before reading. As a queer woman, Machado chronicles the unfolding of this relationship through a mix of every genre imaginable. It is a work of art and is criminally underrated.

2. A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf

Why? A classic lecture-turned-extended-essay exploring female creativity.

A personal favourite quote:

“Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.”

Recommending Virginia Woolf is like recommending breathing to stay alive. I know everyone and their mother has read from this author, but A Room of One’s Own is exquisite. Woolf reflects upon the domestic and economic constraints on women who wish to write from her 20th-century perspective. She created conversations that are still pertinent today.

3. Anxious People by Fredrik Backman

Why? Backman’s ability to write humanity and their foibles.

A personal favourite quote:

“Empathy is like vertigo.” (p.343)

Here she is, my favourite book. Anxious People is a humorous read about a bank robber who accidentally holds a group property-viewers hostage. I read this book during the pandemic, which perhaps added to my love for the connections among the strangers in the book. It made me cry five times in one reading session. Backman has a very unique writing style, which I am aware is very polarising. I personally adore it.

4. The Place of Tides by James Rebanks

Why? Rebanks’ clear admiration of both nature and the women who make the world spin.

A personal favourite quote:

“When we were young, the old folk seemed to know everything. I had imagined that there was a moment when you felt wise, that you had learnt it all. She looks over at me, smiling, as though she can hear the thought. We are all just children. We never know enough, not even the half of it.” (p.258)

My most recent read has also become one of my favourites. I am a sucker for a nature memoir, and this one follows Rebanks as he spends 70 days following the life of a ‘duck lady’ (someone who houses and protects Eider birds in order to harvest their down) on the Norwegian island of Fjærøy. Inevitably, the experience touches his soul, and he documents the change in himself for us to see. It’s a beautiful read.

5. Sensitive by Jenn Granneman and Andre Sólo

Why? This entire book is about harnessing your sensitivity and not letting anyone dim your power.

A personal favourite quote:

“… all the yelling in the world didn’t make his kid less sensitive.” (p.38)

This book was a game-changer for me. It showed me that other highly sensitive people were not only out there thriving, but also educating others through science-backed research and lived experience on how to harness their sensitive nature. It’s a love song to people like us and gave me the kick up the butt I needed to start this blog. Being sensitive is synonymous with being brave.

6. Isaac and The Egg by Bobby Palmer

Why? Although the book uses the egg as a metaphor for grief, it can easily be viewed as a metaphor trying to hide your sensitive self.

A personal favourite quote:

“It is an egg. The egg sits resplendent in the middle of a clearing, bathed in a heavenly light which seems to defy the darkness of the night that came before it.” (p.8)

Grief is a theme that crops up in a lot of what I read (and write). In this book, a grieving widow stumbles upon a screaming egg that is incapable of looking after itself. They develop as a delightfully odd duo, creating an ultimately heartwarming read. It dabbles with magical realism, which I adore, but do note that if you’re not a fan of the genre. (Seriously, if anyone has any magical realism recommendations, LET ME KNOW!)

7. Things I Don’t Want to Know by Deborah Levy

Why? Deborah Levy writes every thought you’ve ever had and puts it into a singular book.

A personal favourite quote:

“I knew I wanted to be a writer more than anything else in the world, but I was overwhelmed by everything and didn’t know where to start.” (p.150)

Why this book isn’t screamed about all over the internet, I do not know. It is a book for the big feelers, the writers-to-be and for those finding their place in the world around them. Things I Don’t Want to Know is the first in a trilogy of Levy’s self-described ‘living autobiographies’, and they are all magnificent.

Deborah Levy is one of my favourite authors, and I would like everyone to read her work, please and thank you.

8. Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Why? In my opinion, this is the ultimate meditation on grief. Not a word is wasted, and it cuts to the bone.

A personal favourite quote:

“Enemies beware: the worst has happened. My father is gone. My madness will now bare itself.” (p.20)

This essay depicts Adichie’s experience of losing her father; already an established writer and impressive wordsmith, this book describes grief in a way that no one else comes close to. Anyone who has lost someone will gain so much comfort (and cry so many tears) from this book.

9. And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer by Fredrik Backman

Why? The nuances of family relationships are painted beautifully, all the while telling the story of a man with memory loss.

A personal favourite quote:

“‘How did you fall in love with her?’ the boy asks.

Grandpa’s hands land with one palm on his own knee and one on the boy’s.

‘She got lost in my heart, I think. Couldn’t find her way out. Your grandma always had a terrible sense of direction. She could get lost on an escalator.’” (p.58)

Oh, God. Even finding the quote in the book for this article made my bones hurt. I cannot look at this book without a lump getting lodged in my throat. I read it in one sitting and hysterically cried the whole time. It is beautiful beyond belief, and is why I can completely justify squeezing in an extra Fredrik Backman on this list.

10. A Month in Siena by Hisham Matar

Why? The deep appreciation of art.

A personal favourite quote:

“And hadn’t we always done this in our childhood, spent hours slinging pebbles at the stars, knowing full well that, even before we fired them, the stones would fall right back and probably on our own heads?” (pp. 24-25)

Matar spends a month in Siena admiring artworks which he has loved his whole life, and the account is a vivid one. It is a slow-moving book, but I believe that is the point of it. Love is also covered frequently in this book, be it talking about his deep love for his wife or art. It’s a wonderful, languishing read.

11. The Travelling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa

Why? A beautiful ode to the connection between animals and humans.

A personal favourite quote:

“How could I ever leave him, having experienced that kind of love?” (p.171)

A vital fact you should know about me: I am an animal lover. Even more so, I am a cat person (you have met Pud in this post, and will see his gorgeous, squishy face at the end of it, too). This book is a wonderful tale of the bond between a cat and his human, told from the perspective of a cat.

12. Zami: A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde

Why? An intersectional feminist reflecting on her life - she is an inspiration.

A personal favourite quote:

“Our obvious happiness in our ‘incorrect’ love was so great besides her obvious unhappiness in her ‘correct’ ones, that the only response to such cosmic unfairness was tears.” (p.232)

Audre Lorde is one of those women with whom I would do anything to have a five-minute conversation. As mentioned above, she was an intersectional feminist, and she discusses these intersections of race, gender, class and sexuality in this book. Women, and her love for them, are what form the foundations of the book, but her tumultuous relationship with her mother is what makes it all the more absorbing.

13. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (featuring the most beautiful edition of the book you’ve ever seen!)

    Why? An iconic tale of sisterhood and coming of age.

    A personal favourite quote:

    “I like good strong words that mean something.”

    I don’t need to pitch Little Women to you, because I am sure you have read it. If you haven’t read it, please do! It is a really accessible classic book. I often am put off by the classics, as I deem them intimidating, but this one is a joy to read. Despite its age, its themes keep it relevant even in the modern day.

    

14. When the Cranes Fly South by Lisa Ridzén

    Why? A story of a father and son trying to reconnect.

    A personal favourite quote:

    “I know what I want to say, but it’s hard. I’ve been trying to say it for weeks now. They’re just words, but it’s so hard.” (p.306)

    This is a sparkling debut novel, exploring a strained father-son relationship as the father ages. As a carer myself, it’s also the first time I have ever seen a story involving carers! (I know, the irony of a highly sensitive person ending up in the care sector is not lost on me either.) It tells the classic story of trying to say

    the right thing before time runs out.

15. The Position of Spoons: and Other Intimacies by Deborah Levy

    Why? An author reflecting on the art that both inspired and affected her.

    A personal favourite quote:

“It’s hard, sometimes even absurd, to know things, even harder to feel things…” (p.7)

You don’t mind if I sneak a second Deborah Levy onto this list, do you? Good. In my head, this is the modern-day A Room of One’s Own, where a deeply respected author reflects on writing, and the people and works who have influenced her. I would read Levy’s shopping list. Even if she only needed bread and milk.

Last but not least, a bonus three poetry anthologies! Although I mainly read fiction and non-fiction, the poetry I do consume, I adore. Here are my ladies.

1. Collected Poems by Wendy Cope

Beloved writer of The Orange, this is a collection of Cope’s poetry spanning her entire career. She writes with wit and candour about life and love, and she does it brilliantly.

2. Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz (featuring my gorgeous boy, Pud, who wanted to see what was going on)

Why! Is! This! Anthology! Not! Talked! About! More!

It won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry back in 2021, so it blows my mind that I don’t hear more rave reviews of this collection. Diaz’s poetry explores what it means to be a queer, Indigenous woman, and does so with expertise. It is also a deep reflection on masculinity, violence and the ripple effects from said behaviour (a special mention goes to ‘The Mustangs’, my favourite poem in the anthology. It moves me to tears every time I read it).

3. Devotions by Mary Oliver

You really thought you would get to the end of a sensitive woman’s reading list without finding Mary Oliver?

My favourite poet has entered the building, and she is here to celebrate nature, the self and love in all its forms. Oliver has my eternal adoration.

My judgemental boy wondering why on EARTH I am taking photos of books OUTSIDE

Writing about books like this has given me more joy than I thought it would.

The last time I wrote about books in any capacity was during my degree; it’s good for the soul to rave about books simply for the sheer love of them. I hope you can find some helpful recommendations here, and can dip your toe into new waters. If you are already familiar with them all, please let me know your favourites!

See you on Sunday for another post!

All my love,

Emma