Women Who Travel Book Club: 14 New Books to Add to Your Spring Reading List
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As warmer weather approaches, so do our long-awaited spring travel plans. And whether that means jetting off to a beachfront stay in Saint Tropez or just lounging on your own front porch, you're going to need a good book to accompany you. This is where the Women Who Travel book club comes in: The next installment of our quarterly list of new and highly anticipated reads written by women authors is here, and we promise there's something for everyone.
We asked our editors, contributors, and well-traveled bibliophiles in our Women Who Travel community to share which new books they're packing on their next getaway. They delivered a mix of new releases that will have you captivated from start to finish, from light-hearted romance novels to witty explorations of grief, set everywhere from Korea to French Polynesia. We'd love to hear which you're reading—and which fantastic new books we missed—on Instagram or Facebook.
Below, the best new books this spring.
Grief is not prescriptive. If there’s one thing you can take away from Grief Is for People, let it be that. Sloane Crosley’s new memoir is a deeply incisive and moving account of working through cumulative grief or grief overload—the kind associated with multiple losses in quick succession. Faced with a home break-in (during which she loses her family jewelry) and subsequently, the death of her friend and mentor by suicide, Crosley finds herself on a continuum of grief, during which this sequence of events that have nothing to do with each other mutate into a single event of profound stress. In fact, the title is a tongue-in-cheek reference to exactly that—the writer’s tendency to conflate her grief over her friend with the loss of her jewelry, an attempt at anthropomorphizing objects, if you will. Even in this morass of sadness and confusion, Crosley’s trademark wit, seen previously in her humorous essays, is on display—this book is both very poignant and darkly funny. And it smashes through any facile frameworks we have available for mourning. —Arati Menon, global digital director
The back cover of Alexandra Tanner’s Worry likens it to both Greta Gerwig’s “Frances Ha” and Seinfeld—a compelling start for a debut novel from the Brooklyn-based writer. Over a quick-reading 291 pages, the daily thoughts, anxieties, and indulgences of two sisters who are living together in New York City unfold through witty dialogue loaded with familiar pop culture references. Reading this feels a lot like hanging out with a sister, something I reflected on while carrying it to Mexico City for my little sister’s wedding. We’re hardly the same as Poppy and Jules, the two main characters, but I understand the dynamics at play here—it’s a bit like looking in a fun house mirror at times, sometimes to my horror, but always to my entertainment. —Megan Spurrell, senior editor
If you're even slightly into romance novels, you're probably familiar with Emily Henry, a New York Times best-selling author (and Women Who Travel Power Listee) known for her popular books like People We Meet on Vacation and Beach Read. Anticipating all the same feel-good magic in whatever Henry writes next, I couldn't wait to devour her latest novel, Funny Story. It follows a young woman named Daphne whose fiancé realizes he's in love with someone else—his childhood best friend, Petra. Daphne, now heartbroken and strapped for money, moves in with none other than Petra's ex-boyfriend, Miles. The unlikely pair of roommates, both grieving their own relationships, develop somewhat of an interesting friendship. It's humorous, playful, and has all the right ingredients for a good ole' love story. —Meaghan Kenny, associate commerce editor
I recently sped through Good Material, Dolly Alderton’s second novel and fourth book, while on a trip to Mexico City. As with her previous work, the book explores themes of love, friendship, and the role of technology in our lives and relationships with a searing specificity. This story, told from the perspective of a flailing standup comedian who’s stuck in the proverbial restaurant of his former relationship, gets into the agonizing days and months following a breakup, and surfaces every embarrassing emotion that comes with it. At times, I wanted to shake the narrator silly, but I appreciated the fact that Alderton didn’t try and make him overly likable. The tone is warm, funny, and all too relatable. —Madison Flager, senior commerce editor
I've been reading I'll Just Be Five More Minutes: And Other Tales from My ADHD Brain by Emily Farris, a senior commerce writer at Bon Appétit and Epicurious. I'm a longtime fan of Farris—her irreverent humor, her amazing sense of colorful design, and how she writes from the heart. She takes us on a journey through her life as experienced by someone with ADHD, and while I don't have ADHD, there are plenty of relatable tidbits (like the one about wanting to mail out those holiday cards a year late? Been there!) that make you laugh, cry, and cringe. It's not a topic talked about often and I appreciate Farris for putting it all out there. —Lia Picard, contributor
I am currently devouring Lyn Slater’s debut book, How To Be Old: Lessons in Living Boldly from the Accidental Icon, which details the decade of her 60s, how she became famous, and what spurred the reinvention taking place in her 70s. I myself have just entered into a new decade, and am about to become a mom. When I spoke to her recently about the book, I told her how much the material resonated with me. She told me that she actually wrote this book for people like me, in the midst of transition. “My message is that, instead of being fearful about being older, it's an opportunity to really take that dream that you might have put aside because of life, and making a living, and children, and really getting to a time of life where you can have that dream, if you want it.” —Mercedes Bleth, global associate director, social media
I’ve been reading a lot of fiction lately that deals with less widely-known parts of Asian history. Among the best of them is Kim’s riveting sophomore novel, which begins in 2011. The story opens with Eunju Oh in her Daegu, South Korea apartment, getting an unexpected visit from Narae, a woman who was raised by her childhood nemesis Sangchul Kim. Sangchul has recently died and directed Narae to Eunju to learn the truth about her origins. What follows is an account from both teenaged Eunju and Sangchul’s perspectives of their year in the Stone Home, purportedly a government-run reformatory for wayward citizens that was actually a camp where innocent civilians were kidnapped and forced to labor under grueling conditions, their wares sold abroad.
The book is tightly written and moves at a thrilling pace. You really feel for the characters and understand their motivations. Kim chronicles Eunju’s time in the camp’s kitchen with her mother, whom she calls Umma, and a disparate group of women who come to care for one another. While men usually toil in the workshops, Eunju and her friend Mina are chosen to work threading fish hooks with a group of boys that include Sangchul and his older brother, Youngchul. The main plot begins after Youngchul meets with tragedy, and Sangchul betrays his friends by becoming a brutal Keeper, a peer enforcer for the camp’s sadistic leaders. Kim’s writing is thoroughly engaging while also managing to educate readers regarding a brutal atrocity in Korea’s timeline. —Alexandra Sanidad, research director
I loved Sheila Marikar's debut novel Goddess Effect so much that I raved about it in last year's spring book club. So when I heard she had a juicy follow up, Friends in Napa, in the works, I couldn't wait to get my hands on a copy. If you love tales of insufferable wealthy people in beautiful environs, a la Succession and The White Lotus (and who doesn't), this is the perfect premise: A group of college friends-turned-frenemies reunites in a scenic California wine country estate, where drama—and murder—ensues. After getting immediately hooked on the riveting opening scene that takes you inside the mind of a murderer, I'm now racing through the chapters brimming with grudges and grapes to figure out whodunnit. —Sarah Khan, contributor
Fans of Lauren Oyler likely became so, as I did, because of her criticism, which is rather mean (never undeservedly!) and as a result, very funny. A follow-up to a debut novel that was received with a poetic panning of its own (Fake Accounts, not as bad as you’ve heard), No Judgement is a collection of six essays musing largely on criticism’s very existence—how it is generally good for the culture, how apps like Goodreads in turn make it bad for the culture, and most of all criticism’s inevitability in every sphere of human behavior. The collection’s introduction opens with a modicum of truth: That when somebody tells you, “No judgement,” as a way to encourage honesty or reward it, that somebody is lying. They are not not judging you, but rather keeping said judgement to themselves. Quite simply, judgement is as human as it is involuntary. There’s also a good essay about living in Berlin that everybody should read, if nothing else. That’s the beauty of a book of essays. —Charlie Hobbs, associate editor
If you've been following Caitlin Clark's historic college basketball career at the University of Iowa, then you know women's sports are really, truly, finally having a moment. But what motivates girls to compete? That’s a central question in Rita Bullwinkle’s debut novel Headshot, which follows eight teenagers as they face off in a single-elimination boxing tournament. Each chapter is a bout between two young women, with an emphasis on what’s going on inside their heads as they fight. I’m only a few chapters in, but already this book is about so much more than athletics—it’s an exploration of girlhood, insecurity, and grit that, even if you didn’t grow up playing sports, you’ll find relatable and compelling. — Sarah Kuta, contributor
Every now and then, a book description with some of my most niche interests and lived experiences make me really excited to crack it open: This one got me with camp counselorhood, a visit to a billionaire's remote private island, and an allegory for the Greek myth of Persephone and Demeter. (The goddess duo, legend has it, went toe to toe with Hades in a parable about the depth of mother-daughter connection.) It doesn't spoil any plot to say that author Rachel Lyon's modern Persephone is children’s sleep-away camp employee Cory, who soon introduces us to our Hades (the predatory father of a camper) and our Demeter (mother Emer), whose adjacent perspective of the plot is jumped to in nearly every other chapter for a she-said/she-said format.
The result makes for a page-turning, sometimes deus-ex-machina story; one that interweaves teenage naivety, motherly intuition, and male privilege for a fast-moving tale that might call into question your own hard lines on topics like addiction, consent, and exploitation. (Readers should know there's a trigger warning for sexual violence, although the topic is explored thoughtfully, and through the eyes of both jaded single mother and young, lost daughter.) The joining force between the two points of view is the villain, whose descriptions and character development are Cat Person-level from the beginning. My only wish is that mother Emer's character was more fully brought into sharper focus by the end of the book—but with so much going on between the perspective-jumping chapters and a climactic ending, you'll find yourself gobbling up the pages. —Shannon McMahon, destinations editor
Food isn’t an afterthought in this scrumptious novel, it’s one of (if not the) main characters. Fittingly, I devoured it in a single sitting. Author Lottie Hazell has a creative writing PhD—her research considers food writing in twenty-first century fiction—and her expertise on the matter is immediately clear in the razor-sharp prose, spot-on character development, and propulsive plot. From the very first chapter, you know Piglet’s fiancé Kit has betrayed her somehow, but it’s not clear exactly what he did. Not knowing somehow makes it even more salacious; the tension becomes not the secret itself, but how it is so closely kept from everyone in the book—including the reader. (I won’t give away when/if you do eventually find out what happened.) As the plot thickens, you feel the weight of Kit’s unknown deed build up in your chest, screaming to be released, but wondering alongside Piglet if that would really make you feel any better. The result is a suspenseful, binge-worthy read that dives deep into womens’ appetites, in all its many forms. —Hannah Towey, associate editor, transportation and travel news
I read this on a trip to Cusco, Peru—so, lightyears away from Tahiti and New York, the two settings for this beautiful book (also, thankfully, years later than the depths of the COVID-19 pandemic in which it takes place). Following the lives of a coral researcher in French Polynesia, her ex-husband who is a doctor in New York City, and their daughter who moves between the two of them with all of her teenage dramas, this story meditates on love, family, identity, and complex dynamics of class and colonization in both destinations. It inspired me to learn more about Tahitian culture (and convinced me I need to visit ASAP), and kept me riveted from start to finish. —M.S.
At first glance, I had my apprehensions about beginning Melissa Broder’s Death Valley—as it is both fiction, and touches upon grief (I sway more towards non-fiction, and away from, well, grief). Immediately, though, Broder proves quirky and captivating—permitting us to accompany a woman’s solo expedition to California on a quest to reprieve the weight of loss of both her husband and father. Despite the Valley’s Best Western, though, the tale is opposite from bleak. Together, we head into a nearby desert trail and begin this existential, erotic, and treacherously real journey of self-discovery and resilience in the wake of “pending” grief. Whether conversing with unassuming cacti or vividly stark memories of her loved ones, Broder paints this hilarious fever dream, while still conveying a stark, tangible sense of what it means to be alive. All that to say, it’s still a great beach read. —J.C.
