15 cozy nonfiction books centered around heart and home

Dear reader, if you haven’t met Helene and her correspondent and friend, Frank Doel, I think you might want to. Their epistolary friendship crosses years… and an ocean after Helene first writes to Frank, a bookseller in London, hoping he can track down a hard-to-find title for her. While she waits for him to track a copy down, they continue to exchange letters back and forth, and his little book enterprise at 84 Charing Cross Road expands out into a bookish community of fellow readers in Helene’s life. Intrigued by her spirited and singular voice, Frank’s wife and coworkers eventually begin writing as well and they exchange letters that contain all the joys and trials of a readers’ life. And, for that matter, all of life. More info →

This is the book I recommend for anyone who has ever endured a long-distance relationship. If absence makes the heart grow fonder, and home is where the heart is, what does one do when a piece of your heart is never at home? Ann Mah’s husband is a diplomat, which means that they move frequently, but also that he travels for work. She’s both constantly moving to a new city for the sake of love, yet then left to discover that new city on her own. It’s all made a little easier when she lands in France and, as a food lover, decides to find herself and establish her life there through the meals that make the various regions of the country special. More info →

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve given this as a gift: Paula Sutton’s old-world British style is completely charming. The thick glossy pages filled with colorful yet sophisticated rooms transport you to the English countryside and inspire you to create a little of that wherever home finds you. My own copy is flagged on so many pages, including her checklist for creating the perfect “Quiet Nook” and her best practical tips for searching out pretty decor in secondhand shops. More info →

You’ll excuse me if I include one title from this list that’s still on my own TBR, but I couldn't leave off any book whose subtitle is “The Story of a Black Mothers’s Garden.” If there’s anything cozier than actual gardening, it might just be armchair gardening. Camille Dungy writes about her project to diversify the plants in her garden—branching out in the vegetables, herbs, and flowers she grows in a quest to protect biodiversity on her planet, but also as an image of what diversity can do in a community. Readers say to pick this up if you loved The Serviceberry or The Comfort of Crows. More info →

While you should know this memoir centers around the grief of author Elizabeth Alexander losing her husband, the memories of their life together on the page are pure delight: colorful, multicultural, warm, tasty, academic, artistic, full of life including the couple’s young children and extended family, biological and chosen. I wished so many times I had been invited to a dinner party with their circle of friends and colleagues. Alexander is a poet and that comes through strongly in her prose: her writing is precise and vibrant. More info →

Slow down, pour a big glass of sweet tea, and dip into one of Rick Bragg’s short essays. The world moves a little slower and feels a little saner when he’s talking about oysters, football, or his mama (and her iron skillet). Rick Bragg’s narration is the only time I’ve ever listened to an audiobook on 1x speed. I didn’t want one second of his southern lilt to go any faster. More info →

Part love story, part travelogue, Tembi Locke's zest for life after the death of her Sicilian husband is both heart-wrenching and heart-warming. There is such a strong sense of love, family, and place here, even through the tensions of losing those things. Listen to this one on audio if you can, both for the author’s narration and to hear her pronunciations for all the food and locations. More info →

Who hasn’t had that one perfect summer coloring the memory of what the season should be for the rest of your life? For Marjorie Hart that summer was 1945 in New York City, surrounded by girlfriends, lunches at the Automat, handsome sailors… and Tiffany & Co jewelry. She and her best friend miraculously land coveted jobs at the famous jewelry store, and become the envy of all of their pals, having the summer of their lives. Marjorie and Marty prove that diamonds aren’t really a girl’s best friend, best friends are. Fizzy and friendly. More info →

Beautiful in every way—the writing (of course, because it’s Lahiri), the language, the layout (two languages side by side), even the cover. This distinctive memoir of a life lived, and written, in two languages is one that only Lahiri could have written. She falls in love with Italian after a trip during her college days, and it sets her on a course to learn the language, and make the move to Rome to immerse herself in her newfound voice this way. Language and self are so intertwined; we see how Lahiri learns more about herself and where she truly belongs in the pages of this revealing journal. More info →

The book that sent me reading everything Nigel Slater has ever written. He writes about food, home, and pottery (so much pottery!) in a way that compels me to slow down and notice the small moments in my own life. Some of his essays are so short they’re merely one perfect sentence, but each is like a gauzy, misty, moody, lovely painting. The physical copy itself is so gorgeous and cozy, though I also recommend him reading it on audio. More info →

This spiritual memoir is told through a life in trees. Singer-songwriter Andrew Peterson starts with his front yard as a child—that giant maple at the parson’s house—and continues on until he’s planting his own saplings at the Chapter House, his home near Nashville, Tennessee. This is the book that made me a tree lover and a card-carrying member of the Arbor Day Foundation. I’ve spent many happy days under the branches of beloved shrubs and towering oaks, listening to the rustling of leaves and contemplating for myself how trees change not just the world, but our lives. More info →

I adored this literary tour through the symbolism of the heart—including its place in various cultures and religions, famous letters, and fields of study like medicine and history. What a delightful compendium. I can barely sum it up better than this passage where she describes how an editor pitched the idea to her: "a lush, intimate book with a narrative arc. It should have world history and religion and psychology and the arts in it, but it shouldn't be a plodding survey... like a long conversation with that writer over drinks or tea, about books and lovers and mystics and animals and gardens — all sorts of weird and curious stories about the heart." She brings together a rich collection of prophets, poets, playwrights, and painters that I'll revisit again and again. More info →

I’m a big fan of Miranda Mills on YouTube. Her videos are full of the English countryside, recipes for sweet treats, cups and cups of tea (usually in her collection of Emma Bridgewater mugs), and her own mother-daughter book club. When she put together a commonplace book, a dear friend you might happen to know (wink, hi Donna!) sent it my way. I’ve had the most delightful time slowly perusing her selections of recipes, poetry, and seasonal quotes. More info →

I’m on record as only making pleasurable New Year’s resolutions. Throughout the years, I’ve made it my goal to wear real pajamas, drink only out of my finest tea cups all year long, and watch all the rom-coms I’ve missed. But this year, I decided to finally put to good use all the brooches I’ve been collecting since childhood. And I’ve turned to the late diplomat Madeleine Albright’s memoir-in-pins for inspiration. She talks about politics, of course, but through the lens of when she decided to wear a snake brooch to a particular meeting, or a piece of turquoise to honor her guests at another assembly. I’m starting to see the way you can say so much without having to move your mouth. Instead, read my pins. More info →

I reread this almost every year as a reminder that life is best lived around the table. Niequist has a way of writing that welcomes you into her life and kitchen, and makes me think I could do the same. The gentle essays are interspersed with accessible recipes. The page with her recipe for Gaia cookies is comically stained, bent, and warped now from hours opened in the kitchen. I’ve made them more times than I can count. More info →