Sarah Harman's Desert Island Books
Featuring a book that captures both the mystical and the mundane of motherhood, and a thriller with biting social commentary...
I read All The Other Mothers Hate Me by Sarah Harman in a single sitting, en route back to Sydney from Delhi. A propulsive, pacy, unputdownable debut, it tells the tale of Florence, a messy, irreverent, and wildly entertaining single mother trying to clear her son’s name in a missing child case—while also attempting to reclaim some semblance of her former pop-star glory.
This novel is both hilarious and sharply observant, skewering the world of competitive parenting with pitch-perfect satire. Florence is the kind of protagonist you can’t help but root for, even as she stumbles through life in her unorthodox way. Her dynamic with Jenny, the straight-laced, risk-averse lawyer she teams up with, is a highlight—an unlikely but endearing detective duo unraveling the mystery of Alfie Risby’s disappearance.
With biting humour, a gripping plot, and Florence’s wonderfully chaotic energy, All The Other Mothers Hate Me is a fresh, smart take on the psychological thriller, and a book that everyone should read.
And if you’d like to get your hands on a copy of this brilliant debut, consider becoming a paid subscriber to my Substack for your chance to win a copy. Each week, paid subscribers are automatically entered into a draw to win a book by that week’s featured author. Otherwise, consider buying it from Bookshop.org—a better way to shop online, where every purchase supports local independent bookstores.
From her favourite book on motherhood, to a thriller with biting social commentary, here are the eight books Sarah would pack for her dream desert island escape...
The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
The ultimate dysfunctional family memoir. This a beautiful, brutal recounting of the author’s nomadic childhood with charismatic but unstable parents who couldn’t meet their own needs, much less their children’s. It deals with the legacy of mental illness, but it’s not black and white; the magic and misery are inextricably linked. Walls’ writing and her resilience are remarkable. Her book would be perfect company on a desert island, particularly if was less of a vacation and more of a Survivor-type situation.
Soldier Sailor by Claire Kilroy
For my money, the most beautiful novel about motherhood ever written. Claire Kilroy captures the wonder and the drudgery, the mystical and the mundane, and wraps the whole things in the most beautiful, effortless prose. The novel, like love itself, seems to exist outside of time. I read it last year on an airplane and sat there sobbing in my seat, absolutely terrifying the other passengers. I’d definitely bring it to a desert island so I could re-read it and sob freely.
The Runaway Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown
I never read this book as a kid, but my son brought it home from the school library one day and I opened it with no context. The message went right over his head, but as a mom? Oof, what a gut punch. That last line: ‘Have a carrot,' said the mother bunny’ just perfectly encapsulates how motherhood is simultaneously these huge cosmic feelings and an endless series of mundane, repetitive tasks.
Sorrow and Bliss by Meg Mason
This book is way funnier than any book about serious mental illness and a dissolving marriage has a right to be. Having come of age in the golden era of women’s confessional online writing, I’m a huge sucker for a messy, first-person narrator, and Martha Friel is completely original and uniquely hilarious. I’ve bought so many copies of this for friends that I’ve lost count.
Selected Poems by Gwendolyn Brooks
The Bean Eaters is probably Brooks’ most famous poem, but I think my favourite is Crazy Woman. Or maybe the mother. Brooks was critically acclaimed in her own time for writing with insight and compassion about the lives of Black Americans during the civil rights movement, but her personal poems are equally arresting. Even decades later, her writing feels shockingly contemporary.
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
Can you even be a writer and not have a parasocial relationship with Jo March? I didn’t grow up with sisters close in age and this book always made it seem SO fun. Obviously, I want to be Jo but worry I’m secretly Amy. I actually read that Alcott herself hated this book and considered it ‘moral pap for the young’; a distraction from the lurid gothic thrillers she wrote under pseudonym and vastly preferred. That cracks me up, and it’s such a humbling reminder that writers aren’t always in the best position to judge the quality of our own output.
Heartburn by Nora Ephron
Nora is the OG, and 40 years later no one can top this. Heartburn is famously based on the implosion of Ephron’s own marriage, after discovering her husband was having an affair with ‘a very tall person’ while she was heavily pregnant. She really took her pain and turned it into art, in a way I find totally aspirational. The fact that she then went on to write and direct some of the best-loved films of all time is hugely satisfying. It's like that saying—living well is the best revenge. The book that started it all is laugh-out-loud funny and a classic for a reason.
Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
I know, I know. This is one of the bestselling books of all time so hardly an original pick, but what can I say? Sometimes things are popular BECAUSE they’re good. This was the first book that made me realise a thriller could also be a scathing social commentary. I’ve read it probably five times, and I’m just completely in awe of the twists. Gillian is the master, and I know she’s busy being a successful Hollywood screenwriter, but I really hope she writes another thriller one day. Not that I would be able to access it from my desert island, but still. For the rest of you to enjoy.