Books That Made Me Cry - Part Two

Hello Readers,
Today, I thought I’d share the books that made me cry last year. And I don’t mean a few silly tears, dear Reader; I mean full-on, ugly-cry sobbing—the kind where you must pause and compose yourself at the end. These stories reached deep into my little black heart and left its mark. If you haven’t already, be sure to check out Part One.
 
A quick note before we dive in this post will discuss some key moments in these books—the ones that really got the tears flowing. So, if you’re planning to read any of them and want to experience the twists and turns spoiler-free, you might want to bookmark this post for later.
 
The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

I listened to the audiobook on Spotify, and I have to admit, I got way too cocky. As I made my way through the story, I hit the last 10% and thought to myself, “This isn’t so bad—why is everyone saying it’s a tearjerker?” I was so sure I’d escape unscathed. And then, out of nowhere—boom—the emotions hit me like a speeding freight train. It wasn’t just sadness; it was the kind of heartbreak that sneaks up on you and leaves you utterly undone.
 
I already knew the legend, of course, but even so, my little black stone heart wasn’t prepared for the depth of feeling this story brought out. You can’t help but feel the raw devotion, the fierce protection, and the devastating heartbreak woven into every line.
 
Looking back, I have a newfound appreciation for the way Madeline has layered this story with a gradual sense of foreboding. It’s subtle but masterful, and by the time the weight of it fully lands, you realise she’s been preparing you for that emotional gut-punch all along. It’s a story that stays with you, not just because of the legend, but because of the way it makes you feel every part of it.
 
Athena’s child by Hannah Lynn

This is one of the most heart-wrenching Medusa retellings I’ve ever read. What struck me the most about this version is how it portrays Euryale and Stheno. Unlike other retellings where they protect Medusa and help her come to terms with being a gorgon, here they despise her, blaming her for their transformation into gorgons. Over time, they isolate her, even mocking her. Their animosity toward Medusa was devastating to read, especially after encountering so many versions of the myth where her sisters are her fiercest allies.
 
And then there’s Athena. By the end of this book, I couldn’t stand her—despite knowing full well the risks of angering the Goddess of Wisdom and Warfare. Athena’s involvement in this retelling is infuriating. Her support of Perseus is not only calculated but outright cruel. She twists the narrative of what happened to Medusa, coldly declaring, “She is not human. She has never been human.” Excuse me, Athena, but what?! You did this to your own priestess. The betrayal and profound injustice woven throughout this story made it impossible not to be deeply moved.
 
The Witches of Vardø by Anya Bergman

The Witches of Vardø is inspired by the very real and harrowing events of the witch hunts that took place on the island of Vardø between 1662 and 1663. This story isn’t for the faint of heart, and I’ll be honest—it brought me to tears.
 
The novel offers an unflinching portrayal of what waiting for a witch trial meant for the accused. It lays bare the brutal reality of how men abused their power with impunity, taking pleasure in the suffering of those they condemned, while the innocent was accused of the most absurd and outlandish crimes.
 
Yet, despite its heavy themes, this book isn’t entirely doom and gloom. Among its pages, you’ll also find profound love, unwavering strength, and fierce loyalty. These moments of humanity shine brightly against the darkness, adding depth and hope to the narrative. This novel captures the complexities of a dark chapter in history, bringing it vividly to life in a way that is both heart-breaking and deeply thought-provoking.
 
Pestilence by Laura Thalassa

I didn’t expect to cry while reading this book, but there was one chapter that completely shattered me. The story follows one of the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse and it’s a paranormal romance. I went into this book expecting action, drama, and maybe some swoon-worthy moments—but certainly not tears. Yet here I am, still thinking about that one chapter that broke me.
 
Without giving too much away, there’s a scene involving an elderly couple who have come to terms with death. Their quiet acceptance, their peace with the inevitable, and the love they share in that moment hit me harder than I ever thought possible. It wasn’t dramatic or over the top; it was tender, poignant, and so incredibly human. I had to put the book down to compose myself before I could carry on reading. (I do not own the cover image used).

L x

 Instagram . BlueSky