• The cover of the book Glitter and Glue

    Glitter and Glue

    The title of Kelly Corrigan’s memoir comes from the way her mother once described their family’s dynamic: Kelly’s father, with his sparkly, outgoing personality, was the glitter, but she—staid, practical, and stern—was the glue. Kelly and her mother’s relationship was fraught during her adolescence, but it wasn’t until Kelly set off on a post-college adventure to Australia, and ended up as a nanny to a family who had just lost their mother, that she fully understood her and her mom’s complex yet ultimately loving relationship. The glue does hold everything together, after all.

  • The cover of the book Son of a Gun

    Son of a Gun

    Justin St. Germain’s mother, Debbie, was a former army paratrooper who in 2001 was found dead in her trailer in the aptly-named town of Tombstone, Arizona, apparently killed by her fifth husband. St. Germain, only 20 at the time and numbed by the tragic loss, returns to the desert years later to identify what happened to his mother, speaking to her four previous husbands in the process. This heartbreaking memoir is an examination of domestic abuse, gun culture in America, and above all, a son’s desire to be the man his mother would have wanted him to be.

  • The cover of the book A Mother's Reckoning

    A Mother's Reckoning

    Every day since the Columbine shootings in 1999, Sue Klebold has asked herself, “How could my son Dylan do such a thing? And was there anything I, as a mother, could have done differently?” In this unflinchingly honest memoir, Klebold grapples with these questions as she tries to understand her son’s motivation behind this incomprehensible act. Her desire to make sense of his actions leads her to the intersection of mental health problems and violence, which she’s made her life’s work. This book is a heartbreaking yet crucial read that, above everything, encompasses a mother’s unending love for her child.

  • The cover of the book The Long Goodbye

    The Long Goodbye

    When her mother was diagnosed with colorectal cancer at age 55, poet Meghan O’Rourke was adrift in a sea of anguish. As the eldest of her siblings, O’Rourke shuttled between her home in Brooklyn and her mother’s bedside, taking on the taxing role of caretaker as death loomed nearer and nearer. And when it came, the grief was overwhelming, isolating, and alienating—despite it being a universal human emotion. This meditation on loss feels like a friend with her hand on your back, guiding you through the process.