Category: True Story

The Tarahumara Indians of Mexico are famed distance runners. Isolated from the rest of the world by the Copper Canyons, many can run hundreds of miles without stopping or getting injured. To understand how they do it, journalist and runner Christopher McDougall visits science labs and runners across the country to understand the mindset and physicality of ultra-runners of all ages and experience levels. There is SO MUCH in this book I would never want to experience, but it’s a fascinating read.

Noé Álvarez grew up in Yakima, Washington, working at an apple-packing plant alongside his mother for many of his teenage years. After earning a college scholarship, he struggled to adapt and fit into university life. At 19 he learned about Peace and Dignity Journeys, a Native American movement of extended marathons “meant to renew cultural connections across North America.” He dropped out of school to run in a four-month marathon from Canada to Guatemala, connecting with the other runners and his own history in the process. Again, this is nothing I would ever want to try, but it’s an engaging and thought-provoking memoir.

Chloé Cooper Jones finds herself in a bar listening to two men argue whether or not a disabled person like her should even exist. Jones was born with a condition that results in her being short of stature with a change in her gait. Moving through the world as a visibly disabled person, Jones knows what it’s like to feel like she has to prove herself. But isn’t that just her internalized ableism speaking, she wonders. Easy Beauty follows Jones on her journey to finding meaning and peace in a world that all too often reminds her that it wasn’t built with her in mind.

Haben Girma is a DeafBlind disability advocate who’s traveled the world, graduated from Harvard Law School, and met President Obama. She grew up visiting her family in Eritrea, learning about how her grandparents lived through the war where Eritrea fought for their independence from Ethiopia. She always wanted to embody her family’s courage, so she decided to bravely face the world. She didn’t accomplish these things by overcoming her disability. Instead she embraced it, inventing new accommodation technology and advocating for better disability inclusion.

Ariel Henley and her twin sister Zan were born with crouzon syndrome, a condition where their skulls fused too soon. Throughout their childhoods, they had dozens of procedures to save their lives and to make their faces more cosmetically “pleasing.”  A journalist who interviewed them said that they had a face for Picasso. This stayed with Henley, and she mulled over the meaning of the phrase for years. As she grows into her own, she begins to accept her body, and her reflection, for what it is. A Face for Picasso was named A Schneider Family Honor Book for Teens.

Carly Findlay was born with Ichthyosis, a rare skin condition that causes her skin to appear red. When moving through the world, random strangers have responded to seeing in her with hatred, repulsion, or even hostility. She really just wishes that they would just “Say Hello.” In her memoir, she describes her work advocating for people with facial differences, and raises awareness for their unique experiences. You can learn more about her work over on her website.

Since she was a child, Sue Leaf has been mesmerized by canoeing. This book is a collection of essays about rowing along the waterways of North America with her family, everywhere from the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota to the bayous of Louisiana and the deserts of the American West. I cannot even tell you how much I love this book. It was an impulse purchase while I was on vacation near Lake Superior a few years ago, and I have been pushing it on people ever since. It is charming, funny, and inspirational all at once.

Rowing crew is not quite the same thing as rowing in nature, but this book is so interesting we’re just going to go with it. Arshay Cooper grew up on the west side of Chicago in the 1990s. An isolated kid trying to stay out of trouble, he was intrigued by a notice on his school bulletin board looking for crew team members. Cooper and his teammates had never even been on the water, but with the guidance of a dedicated coach, they became a decorated and formidable team in a largely white and Ivy League sport. This book is a classic inspirational sports story, so grab it if that’s your jam.

If you’re new to the world of disability literature, Demystifying Disability is a great place to start. Emila Ladau does a great job of instructing people on disability etiquette 101. She also gives readers an introduction to disability history, language, and culture. This has become my go-to book whenever I want to introduce someone to the world of disability—it’s the perfect place to start!

Disability activist Alice Wong has gathered together some of the best disabled writers of the last few decades. This collection features authors from a wide range of backgrounds, each with their own unique experience of disability. Each essay gives a different perspective on what it’s like to live as a disabled person in the U.S. Plus, there’s even more resources in the back of the book.

I am not alone in being drawn to the water. Humans swim all over the world, from Arctic waters all the way to tropical locales. In this book, swimmer Bonnie Tsui travels the globe to tell stories of how swimming has changed and connected people. She visits a swim club in Baghdad, samurai swimmers in Japan, and several other locations to try and understand what about the water is so important to people. This book is a very soothing read, if you need something calm and quiet in the middle of your summer craziness.

This book is another ode to swimming, this time looking more deeply at the history and biology of why we love the water. She explores how swimming has shifted from a solitary to social activity, as well as things like the history of buoyancy and the science behind how we evolved to swim. While less contemporary, this book also has many of the same chill, low-key vibes as other swimming books in this edition.

Whenever I read Samin Nosrat’s cookbook, I know I’m going to learn something new. She structures her cookbook by the four categories in the title—salt, fat, acid, heat—explaining how each element is used in cooking. Best of all, she teaches you HOW to cook, not just how to follow a recipe. I have given dozens of copies of this cookbook to friends and family, always keeping a copy on hand for last minute gifts.

I have a huge soft spot for Julie Turshen and even had the honor of interviewing her for Reading Women. And while I may be biased, her cookbook Simply Julia is truly a gift to food lovers everywhere. Her cookbook is based around the idea of eating healthy, satisfying food using cooking methods that have nothing to do with losing weight. Turshen describes how she was very much inspired by her wife’s experience of developing chronic illness later in life and what it was like trying to learn new recipes that her wife could eat. As someone who also has a medical diet, I appreciated how Turshen’s recipes include notes on possible substitutions for each dish.

Seeing this book on my shelf always makes me think about the going on a stupid walk meme, but that’s not a bad thing. Getting outside for a walk, even just around the block, almost always helps me feel more relaxed by quieting the voices running through my brain. In this book, Kerri Andrews tells the story of 10 women who have “found walking essential to their sense of themselves,” both as individuals and as writers. Stories about male thinkers who walk are very common, so I am very excited for a similar treatment of women who walk.

This book is a collection of essays about crossing borders, our relationship with nature, and the stories we use to make sense of the world. The opening essay is a beautiful ode to air travel (a complicated topic right now!), while others take on stories about colonialism, a veterinarian in Sierra Leone, and more. Aminatta Forna’s writing is so evocative and thoughtful and beautiful, this collection feels like one to just sink into over a long afternoon.

Back in 2010, Samatha Allen was a suit-wearing Mormon missionary. At the time she wrote this book, she was a reporter for the Daily Beast and married to a woman. In this book, she heads out on a road trip with the goal of experiencing “something gay every day” in areas of the country we don’t typically associate with queer people. In places like Utah, Indiana, Texas, and more, she meets LGBTQ+ people who are choosing to stay in communities, building chosen families that are working to make the world a better place. It’s a deeply human book that I really liked. 

Shortly after graduating from college, Suleika Jaouad was diagnosed with a rare and particularly dangerous form of bone cancer. In the first half of the book, she writes about her experiences as a young cancer patient and how it affected her relationships, work, and outlook on life. After her cancer goes into remission, she sets out on a cross-country road trip with her dog as a way of regaining her independence and experiencing what it means to live in the world again. She stops for visits with people she met because of her cancer treatment, and shares many lessons about grief, loss, creativity, and life. This memoir is difficult to read, in parts, but it is also beautiful and human and moving. It was one of my favorites last year – I can’t recommend it highly enough.

In one of my favorite memoirs of all time, T Kira Madden shares her experience growing up as a multiracial girl in Boca Raton, Florida. While she comes from a wealthy family, her parents experience addiction, causing a lot of emotional instability in Madden’s childhood. In college, she begins to realize that she’s queer, family secrets come to light, and she begins to understand herself in whole new ways. The prose is incredible, and each essay-like chapter is all-engrossing from the first few paragraphs.

As an Appalachian, I’m always looking for more stories from the region. One of my favorite Appalachian books this year is Neema Avashia’s Another Appalachia. In her memoir, Avashia shares the experience of growing up as a queer South Asian woman in West Virginia. While Avashia loves her home state, being West Virginian is complicated. The same people she grew up with, who she considers as close as family, now declare how much they dislike immigrants. When she points out that she and her family are immigrants, these same people reply, “You and your family don’t count.” Avashia’s essays are a beautiful testament to the complex realities of being from Appalachia.