97 books like All Over Creation

A tale of labor unrest in the hardscrabble frontier of northwestern America sounds anything but fun or funny, but Walter explores the lives of miners, railroad workers, and Vaudeville performers with surprising verve and a glint of humor on nearly every page.

Set mostly in and around Spokane in the years between the mid-19th and early 20th centuries, this sweeping, satisfying story follows a pair of working-class brothers as they confront corrupt lawmen, scheming actresses, and violent union-busters.

I live in the same world where too many modern novels (including mine!) take place—a world of professionals and students, people whose hands get dirty only if we’re repotting our tomato plants. So it’s wonderfully eye-opening to enter the setting of this book, along with farmers, prison guards, nurses, and other rural folks who are actually living out the current debate over natural-gas fracking. While the gas-company officials are clear villains, the townspeople on both sides are portrayed with compassion and complexity. Who are the “good guys” and “bad guys” when a prison guard sells his mineral rights to the frackers for the cash to start a dairy farm? Or when a gas driller has an affair with a woman whose husband died of environmental cancer? 

Alice Mattison, the author, must have been reading my mind! This piercing novel echoes some of my conflicted feelings about the Sixties and social activism in general, even as it also probes the strains of long-term marriage and friendship. As college students, Olive, Helen, and Val took different routes during the Sixties antiwar protests. Now, when a magazine commissions Olive to write an essay about Val’s long-ago novel, she must confront the repercussions of those friendships and the decisions the three women made. Helen chose violent protest; Olive chose a PhD; Val chose to appropriate Helen’s life in her fiction. Olive’s rethinking raises a question that’s important for us today: How far should an ethical person go for a just cause?  

At 640 pages, this exuberant saga takes an original approach toward the Sixties. The protagonist’s mother, Faye, got swept into the demonstrations at the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago almost by accident, because it was part of the student scene. That’s only one of about six plotlines in this book, which focuses on Faye’s abandonment of her son, Samuel, when he was a boy; her arrest for throwing gravel at a right-wing presidential candidate decades later; and the paths propelling the potential mother-son reunion. I was captivated by the energy, richness, and plot twists of this novel, which somehow manages to keep all its balls spinning. (PS: The political protests aren’t what they seem.)  

Unlike the typical post-apocalyptic fare of nuclear war or other identifiable disasters, Dies the Fire posits an interesting question: What if everything just stops working? Everything we rely on to drive modern society, from combustion to electricity, fails. Against this backdrop, a cast of characters from varied backgrounds all must struggle to adapt to this new reality. Civilization falls apart, and new orders spring up in their place. What drew me most to this was the different ways in which the characters responded to this situation. Some seek simply to survive, while others seek to exploit this new reality for their own gains at the expense of others.

Before I Called You Mine truly brought me through the gamut of emotions with a plot that pitted the main character’s two deepest desires against each other: becoming an adoptive mother and true love.

As a mom who has adopted twice, my heart thrummed in time with Lauren’s as she pursued her passion of adopting, only to come up against an obstacle she never expected. This journey of the heart was so relatable and heartfelt, I couldn’t help but walk it with the characters. And wow! What characters.

A novel about tough choices and how following God’s path brings the sweetest rewards in the end. This is a lesson I’ve learned repeatedly in my own life. How encouraging for this book to remind me. 

This book had me alternating from laughing out loud to holding back tears (or sometimes not holding them back).

Two parallel stories about loss and hope unfold from the perspective of main character, Sal Hiddle. Populating the two stories is an impressive cast of quirky characters, including Mr. Birkway, a gem of an English teacher who shows that believing the best about his students helps them be their best, a lesson that has been valuable to me as a teacher, friend, and parent. 

I identified with Tara Westover while reading her memoir because of her secluded and restrictive upbringing. Like her, my upbringing made me feel left out, “other,” different from normal kids, not allowed the usual activities that other kids could do and kept from learning and growing in my own way.

I didn’t understand how these rules affected me until I saw my angst in her own words of isolation, yearning, and rebellion. It gave me hope that our desire for self-fulfillment and actualization is universal and stronger than the people who try, for good reasons or bad, to keep us down.

It is an amazing book. I could barely put it down. 

Pines, book 1 of the Wayward Pines trilogy is a tense thriller with an irresistible dystopian twist.

When Secret Service agent Ethan Burke is sent to Wayward Pines, Idaho, he’s charged with finding two agents who went missing from this peaceful-seeming town a month prior. Upon arrival, Burke is involved in an accident and when he wakes in this hospital, his possessions—ID, phone, suitcase, are all missing.

Worse, no one believes him when he tells them who he is and he can’t reach the outside world. Then there is the matter of the scary electric fences that surround Wayward Pines. Are they keeping something out? Or in? This one was a propulsive read, wrought with twists and rising stakes. Such a fun read.

A play within a play, a book within a book, may be one of the oldest tricks in the book. Doerr’s book (which also contains fragments of an ancient text of the same name by one Antonius Diogenes) infuses this familiar trope with new scope, pathos, humor, and profundity.

It is a story about the past, the present, the future, and two beautiful twin bulls named Tree and Moonlight; I think this book contains it all.

Doerr makes this narrative juggling act seem easy, shifting from fifteenth-century Constantinople to a world-containing spaceship as easily as he moved me from laughter to tears.