Opinion | Modern non-fiction for people who like to cry

As the weather gets colder and the days end sooner, nothing is quite as perfect as curling up with a hot cup of tea and a good book. My favorite genre to lose track of time reading is memoirs. I have always been a fan of realistic fiction, but reading a factual story feels productive and potentially more emotional. 

So, given that we can no longer sit in the sun on a park bench reading, but instead are cuddled up in the privacy of our homes, why not read a book that makes you weep? The only person that may bother you is your roommate, and they’ve probably seen you cry before. 

If you’re unsure where to start with your journey with tearful memoirs, I recommend five favorites to any reader with a box of tissues:

“Just Kids” by Patti Smith

Chances are, if you are on BookTok, watch tutorials on “Rockstar Girlfriend Makeup” and know who Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin and Joan Didion are, you have heard of “Just Kids” by Patti Smith. This memoir became my favorite book two years ago when I had the very surreal experience of reading it while in Paris. 

This book reminded me of the value of art, and it made me reevaluate my life. I started thinking about abandoning my plans to study engineering to become a journalist and live in a studio apartment with a painter — so far only half of which have occurred. 

The memoir follows Patti Smith throughout her relationship with the famous photographer, Robert Mapplethorpe. It is an intimate portrayal of life in the 60s in the heart of art and music, New York City. At its core, it is a story of outsiders, of artists and freaks that never quite fit the mold, finding their community in the Chelsea Hotel. 

If you ever debated running away to a city in rebellion against everything you were told is true and proper, you will probably relate to Patti Smith. She was a true starving artist, willing to go without meals to afford paints from her favorite art store. She demonstrates that life is illuminated by art and music — it is how we connect to ourselves and each other. 

“Crying in H Mart” by Michelle Zauner 

This summer, I stole “Crying in H Mart” off my brother’s bookshelf, not expecting to pass hours on my bedroom floor reading it on the verge of tears. 

This novel follows the lead singer of the indie rock band Japanese Breakfast as she navigates her mother’s battle with pancreatic cancer and reflects on their relationship. Michelle Zauner relies on her Korean culture, specifically food, to remain connected to her mother and care for her the way she was cared for as a child. 

This story will resonate with people who look to the movies “Lady Bird” and “Everything Everywhere All at Once” as representations of their complicated relationship with their mother. It tells the age-old story of a mother wanting her daughter to have everything she never could have for herself and straining their relationship by doing so. 

While reading what feels like Michelle Zauner’s private journal, the reader is forced to question if their resentment for the one person who would sacrifice every part of their being to protect them is worth holding onto. 

I recommend reading this at home, so you can run out of your room to hug your mom when compelled to do so, and within reach of an Asian supermarket, so you can combat the hunger that Zauner’s descriptions of her favorite dishes will provoke. If your mom is no longer around and you find yourself relating to the grief and emptiness Zauner illuminates, this story may help you relive the lifetime you shared with the woman whose reflection you see in the mirror a little more everyday. 

“On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” by Ocean Vuong

This is another heart-wrenching read for the mommy issues crowd. “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” is an artistic and intentional recount of Ocean Vuong’s childhood told through a part-autobiographical, part-fictional letter to his Vietnamese mother. 

Due to the fictional aspect of this novel, it takes a more poetic approach than the other stories on this list. It dives head-first into Vuong’s, referred to as “Little Dog,” generational trauma and swims in the exploration of his sexuality, culture and his mother’s and grandmother’s pasts, which inevitably construct his present. 

The underlying sentiments of this book course through the veins of anyone who has been hurt or shamed by the people that they love the most and potentially turned to harmful behavior in their internal fight to make sense of it all. My review of this book was simply the word, “STUNNING,” because even if you can’t relate to the experiences of Vuong and his family, at the very least you can appreciate the variance and creativity the author uses to reach out to his mother. 

“The Glass Castle” by Jeannette Walls 

In a high school English class when I was asked what book I think every student should be required to read, I said “The Glass Castle.” This book also has a movie, but I have not seen it, so I can’t speak to its quality. My mom was a big fan, though. 

This is the review I left Jeannette Walls’ memoir on Goodreads immediately after finishing it:

“I recommend this book to any reader, no matter what genres they may be interested in. Walls beautifully captures her tumultuous childhood. It left me angry at her parents — her mother for her constant toxic optimism, her father for abusing his daughter’s obvious admiration and unconditional love, and both of their failure to prioritize their children. Walls displayed how she was able to use her anger to drive her success, while she never truly stopped caring for her family. She stayed connected with her siblings, using their traumas to strengthen their bonds in a way that all siblings should. This memoir is eye-opening to the struggles of poverty in America and a reminder that a life lived without ever eating margarine for dinner was a very fortunate life.”

I think that does a decent job of summing up this novel, so I’m not going to add too much more than saying this book is a must-read. It forces you to evaluate your privilege and look at a part of the American population that politicians and the media constantly neglect. If you think that living below the poverty line isn’t that serious, hold your tongue and read this book before you say another word. 

“Beautiful Boy” by David Sheff

If you haven’t heard of the book “Beautiful Boy,” you may be familiar with the movie starring Timothée Chalamet and Steve Carrell. This novel, which the movie is based on, follows David Sheff and his son Nic throughout Nic’s life, focusing on his battle with addiction. 

If anyone you love deals with addiction, this book will hit close to home as it captures the love and hate that underlies the fight to keep that person alive while trying to preserve yourself. This book is not only an unfiltered account of Sheff’s suffering and attempts to hold onto the boy he once knew, but a culmination of facts about addiction in the United States. 

Growing up in a small town where judging other people was the most fun a person could have, talking about addiction was scary. Many of my friends viewed drug addicts as bad people who purposely inflict pain on their loved ones. 

Although addiction is indeed an inherently selfish disease, addicts do not adopt their habits to hurt those they love. They face struggles that they lack the resources to confront, and often more than anything, they wish they could release their family and friends from the burden of loving them. This book captures these nuances in a way that is digestible for someone who has not had to go through the pain of experiencing them.

I think every person should read this book. Period. I don’t care about your background or previous beliefs. This book is educational, emotionally raw and represents an extremely vulnerable and misunderstood population in America. Reading this book may make you cry, but it will hopefully leave you a more compassionate person.

Julianna Steach is interested in topics regarding human rights, feminism, mental health and queer culture. Email her at jhs106@pitt.edu.