Women Who Travel Book Club: 9 New Books to Dive Into This Summer
All products and listings featured on Condé Nast Traveler are independently selected by our editors. However, we may receive compensation from retailers and/or from purchases of products through these links.
If you're in the midst of finalizing your vacation packing list, don't head to the beach or that hideaway Airbnb without tossing an exciting new read into your carry-on. So far, 2025 has proven to be a year with a bounty of great books. Victoria Lomasko's The Last Soviet Artist is a superb entry in graphic reportage. Charmaine Wilkerson returns with her sophomore novel Good Dirt. And Aisha Muharrar takes her screenwriting talents to the small page with her debut novel Loved One, which releases later this August. In this edition of the Women Who Travel book club, our editors are sharing the new books they just can't put down. Whether you choose to escape with another slam dunk from Taylor Jenkins Reid or delve deeper into the thornier sides of friendship, love, and parenthood, we've got you covered. Let us know what you're reading—and which great new books we've criminally missed—on Instagram or Facebook.
Here, nine of our favorite reads to check out yourself this summer.
Reading Matriarch by Tina Knowles felt like sitting across from a grandmother I deeply miss—someone who knew the world, who had lived and hurt and thrived, and who was finally ready to hand over her hard-earned wisdom like a gift. As a 20-something navigating the blurry lines of adulthood, identity, and complicated family dynamics, this memoir met me at the exact moment I didn’t know I needed it. It’s no mystery how creatives like Beyoncé and Solange became who they are—this book makes it clear: they were poured into. Loved out loud. Guided fiercely. Tina Knowles writes with the grace and steel of a woman who has seen things, survived things, and turned pain into purpose. Her voice is both tender and unflinching, offering stories of triumph, womanhood, heartbreak, and reinvention without once asking for pity or applause. What struck me most was how she reclaims herself—again and again. I found in her stories not just comfort, but a call to live unapologetically. To not shrink. To not let anyone else's discomfort dictate how bright I’m allowed to shine. It reminded me that I don’t have to earn space—I already belong. This book is more than a memoir. It’s a manual for becoming; a reminder that softness and strength are not opposites. That generational wisdom, especially from Black women, is holy. Tina Knowles may have written this for her daughters, but she ended up writing it for women like me, too—for those of us still figuring it out, still healing, still learning to take up space. —Paris Wilson, commerce writer
I've enjoyed several of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's books—especially Half of a Yellow Sun and Americanah—so I was excited to see that she had come out with a book centered around a travel writer. I mean, hi, yes, I'm listening. It's a love story, ultimately, set in the pandemic (fascinating for some, still too close to home for others), but comes from the perspective of someone who wants to write about the places she visits (or has visited) which I can relate to, even if our motivations aren't all the same. I'm just at the start but already nodding along to certain observations of hers with a knowing smile—and knowing Chimamanda the plot will soon enough whisk me away. —Megan Spurrell, associate director, articles
I’m a big fan of Taylor Jenkins Reid’s books—she’s written The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, Malibu Rising, and Daisy Jones and the Six, among others—so I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her newest novel, Atmosphere. Like many of her other books, the setting and world building is larger than life—in this case, readers are taken through the experience of a new class of astronauts in the ’80s, during a time when women were just starting to get equal opportunities within NASA. The details of what it’s like to go through training and get placed on a mission are fascinating, but ultimately, it’s a story about relationships, and coming to terms with who you are and what values you prioritize—I loved it, and was so sad to say goodbye to all of the characters at the end. —Madison Flager, associate commerce director
Notes to John is a poignant, intimate collection of 46 journal entries Joan Didion wrote as addressed to her late husband, John Gregory Dunne, between 2000 and 2001. Published posthumously, it offers an unvarnished look at Didion’s struggles—especially her grief over the death of her daughter, Quintana, and her attempts to come to terms with both her daughter’s addiction issues and her own loss. These entries, raw and unpolished, were left in a filing cabinet, as though meant to be found, giving them an exposing sense of being private yet exposed.
The mix of first- and second-person perspectives throughout the entries feels less like self-reflection and more like conversations with Dunne, blurring the line between personal journal and letter. For Didion fans, especially those like me who found relatability and solace in her Blue Nights, the book provides a deeper, more candid view of her ongoing reckoning with love, loss, and grief. It’s both a comfort and a violation, a sacred intimacy that can feel selfish to read. Still, it had me hooked and felt like an important read for anyone seeking to understand the heart of Didion’s world. —Jessica Chapel, commerce writer
Charmaine Wilkerson’s debut novel Black Cake was undoubtedly one of my most memorable reads of 2022, so I was delighted to dive into her second novel Good Dirt. Both books tackle the complicated intergenerational dynamics of family specifically when it comes to dealing with tragedy. But Good Dirt focuses in on the experience of 29-year-old Ebby Freeman, the daughter of a wealthy Black family in an exclusive New England town. Ebby was only 10-years-old when in an instant, her older brother Baz was murdered and a family heirloom, a ceramic jar nicknamed “Old Mo” that traces back generations, was shattered. The crime remains unsolved and Ebby continues to deal with the aftermath of the public interest in her family, which is only magnified when her fiancé stands her up at the alter on their wedding day at the beginning of the book. Good Dirt explores how Ebby attempts to escape her past, how she reconnects with her family story, and whether and how she’s able to find closure. Wilkerson tells this story through multiple character perspectives at distinct points in time, even giving "Old Mo" a chance to recount its story. —Kate Kassin, editorial operations manager, Bon Appétit
Filled with interviews of creatives, activists, and citizens of all ages, The Last Soviet Artist examines the post-Soviet landscape of the countries that once made up the USSR—what still ties each country together, and what sets them apart. Told through a series of observations by the author, interviews, and poignant illustrations (of which the final part is written in exile after the 2022 attack on Ukraine), Victoria Lomasko chronicles her visits to over half a dozen locations as she examines how everyday life for ordinary citizens is altered, and how those of all ages contemplate their present and futures. —Jamie Spain, travel bookings editor
I’m currently reading June in the Garden. I know they say not to judge a book by its cover, but this one with colorful hues and fresh tulips gave me the impression I was delving into a light beach read. I was wrong: The novel tackles grief, self-discovery, and family relationships with great emotion and thoughtfulness. The story follows June, a young woman with a deep love of all flowers, as she’s been left without a place to live following her mother’s unexpected death. She sets out on her first solo journey to find her estranged father. And with nowhere else to go, she moves into her father’s garden shed—surrounded by flowers. June’s curiosity quickly pulls you in and takes you on the journey with her. —Meaghan Kenny, commerce editor
Some may call it gimmicky, but I'm always intrigued by books that experiment with the literal form of the novel. House of Leaves forces its readers to rotate and reorient the book, mirroring the journey of spiraling down the labyrinthine house. Interior Chinatown takes on stereotyping by typecasting its characters into a screenplay format. And JJ Abrams' S. unfurls its mystery in part with tactile, physical puzzles. Much like the mystifying topological form that graces its cover, The Möbius Book is a narrative forged by tying two different ends of looking at something with a twist. If you choose to start the story from the front cover, you'll sit with Edie and Marie as the two friends perform a post mortem on their painful breakups. If you instead begin in the back, you'll enter the monologue of a first-person narrator who has recently left an emotionally abusive relationship and finds themselves braiding their path out with childhood memories of leaving their faith. There's really no wrong way to go here. Come for the novelty of its format, and stay for a compelling hybrid of memoir and novel with no real end. —Kat Chen, editorial assistant, destinations
Available on Aug 12, 2025
Aisha Muharrar's debut novel ticked off all the boxes I could want in a summer read and even drew in a couple of its own—a bright, illustrated cover; an exciting love triangle of sorts that bounces between LA, Barcelona, and London; an engrossing pace; and an intriguing premise of moving through grief with your late best friend's capricious ex. Readers are in good hands with Muharrar who's written and produced for Parks and Rec, The Good Place, and Hacks. Every emotion and nerve her writing touches on is well-earned, whether its a light chuckle or tear in your eye. And though the story is totally fictional, you'll find yourself a fan of in-universe musical project Separate Bedrooms by the end of it. —K.C.
