Pho­to by Marah Bashir on Unsplash

Jump­ing to con­clu­sions is one of the most nat­ur­al human impuls­es. We all do it, and no won­der. It can be com­fort­ing to believe we know every­thing about anoth­er per­son — that their sto­ry can be summed up in a sin­gle phrase or moral judg­ment. But while we all feel the temp­ta­tion to sort oth­ers into dis­tinct cat­e­gories like vil­lain” or hero,” the truth is rarely that sim­ple. And of course, the same can be said in fiction.

This idea of pre­con­ceived notions and judge­ments kept return­ing to me as I worked on my nov­el Fagin the Thief. For two hun­dred years, the char­ac­ter of Fagin from Oliv­er Twist has been flat­tened into the wicked Jew,” leav­ing no room for a human spir­it beneath those two words. I felt it was past time to let read­ers form their own opin­ions of Fagin, this time with a fuller perspective.

The fol­low­ing eight books invite read­ers to chal­lenge their assump­tions about the kind of peo­ple and char­ac­ters we may write off as unfor­giv­able. Some of these nov­els fea­ture char­ac­ters who are learn­ing to see oth­ers more ful­ly, while oth­ers ask the read­er to do that dif­fi­cult but nec­es­sary work themselves.

On Divi­sion by Goldie Goldbloom

On Divi­sion is the sto­ry of Suri, a matri­arch in Williamsburg’s Hasidic com­mu­ni­ty whose life appears to con­form ful­ly with her neigh­bors’ expec­ta­tions — until she finds her­self preg­nant at age fifty-sev­en. As Suri wres­tles with the widen­ing gap between self and col­lec­tive, the read­er is invit­ed to ques­tion their own assump­tions about what it means to belong. This mov­ing nov­el is a pow­er­ful reminder of the bur­dens our friends and neigh­bors may bear that we know noth­ing about. 

Pri­vate Rites by Julia Arm­field 

This sto­ry of grief, famil­ial for­give­ness, and cli­mate dis­as­ter is one of my favorite reads of the past year. Pri­vate Rites fol­lows sis­ters Isla, Irene, and Agnes after the death of their father, a com­pli­cat­ed fig­ure known for his genius and his cru­el­ty. It’s a med­i­ta­tion on how one painful rela­tion­ship can rip­ple through a person’s entire life, as well as what can be lost and gained by decid­ing not to let the past con­sume you.

Lady Eve’s Last Con by Rebec­ca Fraimow

A Jew­ish queer sci-fi rom-com set in inter­galac­tic high soci­ety might sound like an odd set­ting for a book on for­give­ness, but Fraimow is full of sur­pris­es. Con woman Ruth John­son is hell-bent on secur­ing revenge against the man who broke her sister’s heart. But when she finds her­self falling for that man’s dash­ing sis­ter, her desire for vengeance is com­pli­cat­ed by her grow­ing under­stand­ing that even our ene­mies have their own stories.

Angels in Amer­i­ca by Tony Kushner

As a queer writer, I’ll always adore the expan­sive­ness of Kushner’s affec­tion for human­i­ty in his two-play cycle, but it’s the play’s treat­ment of Roy Cohn that I think is the real mas­ter­work. Not for a moment does Kush­n­er con­done the homo­pho­bia, bru­tal­i­ty, and self-serv­ing nature of his antag­o­nist, but by the time the final cur­tain falls, it’s impos­si­ble not to feel a con­nec­tion with him. It isn’t redemp­tion for Cohn — nei­ther Kush­n­er nor I would call him a hero — but it’s a step clos­er to understanding.

The Sins on Their Bones by Lau­ra R. Samotin

The first book in the Cursed Crown duol­o­gy intro­duces a world rife with polit­i­cal dra­ma, civ­il war, and mag­ic inspired by Jew­ish folk­lore. But at its core, The Sins on Their Bones is a sto­ry about sur­viv­ing the worst thing that’s ever hap­pened to you and emerg­ing stronger on the oth­er side. Watch­ing the pro­tag­o­nist Dima process his grief over his role in the rela­tion­ship that shat­tered his life and desta­bi­lized his coun­try, I was remind­ed that some­times the most dif­fi­cult jour­ney of for­give­ness is the process of for­giv­ing ourselves.

James by Per­ci­val Everett 

James forces the read­er to upend every assump­tion we brought with us from our last for­ay into Huck­le­ber­ry Finn. By trans­form­ing Twain’s racist car­i­ca­ture of the slave Jim into a com­pas­sion­ate and bit­ing­ly fun­ny pro­tag­o­nist in his own right, Everett’s satire gives the read­er nowhere to hide from the wrongs done to the orig­i­nal char­ac­ter. The end­ing leaves us with unan­swered, thorny ques­tions of jus­tice and repa­ra­tion, but the cen­tral ques­tion of human­i­ty is clear as day.

Red Cav­al­ry by Isaac Babel

One of the great­est short sto­ry writ­ers of all time, Babel’s mas­ter­work takes us behind the front lines of the Sovi­et Red Army in the 1920s. But this is not your stan­dard war nov­el. We are exposed to cru­el­ty, yes, but also absur­di­ty, from indis­crim­i­nate anti­semitism to the point­less, brava­do-filled killing of a goose. War is the eas­i­est place in the world to divide mankind into allies and ene­mies, but Babel’s sharp eye reminds us that the real sep­a­ra­tion between us” and them” is nev­er so simple.

Fagin the Thief by Alli­son Epstein 

Like many of the books list­ed above, Fagin the Thief is not nec­es­sar­i­ly about redemp­tion or turn­ing vil­lains into heroes. My char­ac­ter of Jacob Fagin makes choic­es that even I find hard to for­give. But by show­ing Fagin’s world through his eyes, my hope is that read­ers will see the human­i­ty that runs through all of us — and see how much vio­lence we do to oth­ers when we write them off as lost.

Alli­son Epstein earned her M.F.A. in fic­tion from North­west­ern Uni­ver­si­ty and a B.A. in cre­ative writ­ing from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan. A Michi­gan native, she now lives in Chica­go. When not writ­ing, she enjoys good the­ater, bad puns, and fan­cy jack­ets. She is the author of the his­tor­i­cal nov­els A Tip for the Hang­man and Let the Dead Bury the Dead.