Best Feminist Books Novels & Stories

“I don’t know. You keep everything in such good condition. I’m almost afraid to touch anything in this room.” “I know you’ll be careful with my things.” She nodded and pulled the book off the shelf. “I didn’t know you liked Jane Austen.” “Why not?” She shrugged. “She’s a woman author.” “I’m broad minded enough to think women have a lot to offer society. I enjoy her work.” “This is one of my favorite books. Sense and Sensibility. The story of two sisters who represent two opposing forces: logic and emotion.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He seemed to be considering her analysis of the book. “I didn’t think anyone else in Virginia understood that.”

Julian removed her hand from his shoulder. "Oh?" Rhea sized me up. "You're the Alpha Female, right? Sorry, I don't serve women. Let me recommend other girls to you." "I'm not looking for you to… have sex. I need to talk to you." Thus, I told her my idea of abolishing the military prostitution system and dissolving the military brothel. "I believe you deserve a better life than the current one, Rhea." Rhea was a little surprised as she listened until I finished. Yet, she didn't look as joyful as I had imagined. Instead, she glanced at the other women behind her first before turning around to look at me again.

I stopped by the library—the same one I’d visited as a girl, the place where I first found stories about women who dared to rise beyond the walls they were born in. Mrs. Bertram, the head librarian, recognized me immediately. “You’ve grown into yourself,” she said as she welcomed me inside. I smiled. “I’m trying.” “I heard about the Foundation. And the baby. Congratulations.” “Thank you.” “I always said you had a story inside you.” “I think it just took time to find its voice.” I donated a dozen books from the Barlowe house—stories I wanted other young girls to find: Jane Eyre, Little Women, The Secret Life of Bees, Becoming, The House on Mango Street, and more.

Sabeerah brought them out one by one. Muslim Girl and If I Speak by Umm Zakiyyah, The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides, Three Daughters Of Eve by Elif Shafak, On Black Sister's Street by Chika Unigwe, And Then There Was None by Agatha Christie, A Time To Kill by John Grisham and finally, A History Of The Wives Of Prophet Muhammad by Umam Kahn. She picked up the last book which was actually a journal and tucked in its side were plack pencils with bookish scribbles on them.

Mine had already drained away, replaced by something colder, heavier—worry. My thoughts spun as I stared out the window. I couldn’t keep clashing with him like this. That ridiculous book, The Perfect Wife, flashed through my mind—its chapters on handling dominant men. Softness. Vulnerability. Subtle rebellion. A woman with fire, but without the flames. Sweet enough to draw in. Dangerous enough to chase.

She had wondered privately if the stink of the city alone could coerce her to follow her husband’s command to stay indoors, though she considered it highly unlikely. As she had paused to examine the books lining the shelves, the faint beginnings of her good humour had fled. The titles on the spines leered down at her, the jagged lettering contriving rotten faces of their own. Woman and Sin, they read. The Keeping of a Good Wife. Accomplishments Acceptable in the Female Gender.

“This world is filled with guys who gouge themselves on lesbian porn, yet those same guys would swear up and down that girls loving girls is not a real thing.” “Right,” Bianca said, “because they can’t fathom that there are women out there who have absolutely no interest in men.” “Women who aren’t attracted to men? Where did you get such an outlandish concept from?” Bianca giggled at my sarcasm. “It was probably invented by feminists.” And that led us into a conversation of our favorite feminist authors and concepts. I descended into a rant about how Simone De Beauvoir’s Second Sex is an absolute masterpiece that radically changed my way of viewing the world.