11 books like Built for Speed

This book is a scientist’s telling of his serious and quirky ambition to know what ravens know. When I got to the description of an experiment whose distinguishing feature was the author wearing a kimono, that’s when I realized I’d been learning as much about the mind of a raven biologist.

I love this book for showing how much more bird brains have in common with human brains–with respect to their capacity for emotion and intellect–than is commonly appreciated.

This book is fiction, infused with magical realism, and I am a scientist. Yet, this book definitely belongs on my list of best books about wild animals.

Superficially, it is about a boy, Dave, who regularly observes a pine marten, a kind of large weasel, in the lush forests of Oregon. I love this book because even the slightest chance of properly empathizing with a wild animal requires a powerful yet constrained imagination. Some of Dave’s attributions to Martin are self-projected, and some of his attributions are deeply true. Reliability in telling the difference is not always so simple.

This book never let me stop wondering, are the thoughts and life of a marten beyond my imagination?  

This book is motivated by the global uproar over the killing of Cecil, an African lion, by an American trophy hunter. The author is the researcher who made it his purpose to learn about lions from Cecil’s life and about humans’ relationships with lions through Cecil’s death.

I love the book for demonstrating the power that is unleashed when we care enough to name a wild animal, and that caring is reinforced by subsequently discovering that they have story-filled lives. The book warmed my heart when I found the book’s author–who has the felt responsibility and privilege of telling these stories–to be as lion-hearted as Cecil. 

This is the self-told journey of two scientists’ quest to know what free-ranging, wild baboons know about themselves and their fellow troop mates. When living–as baboons do–in a tangle of social relationships involving 50 or more baboons, it pays to know them and yourself.

The authors retell impressive adventures through the forests of Botswana’s Okavango Delta and dumbfound the reader by showing what can be learned about a baboon’s mind by playing them the recorded calls of their troop mates.

While the authors’ straightforward telling of their scientific sleuthing is remarkable, what I love most about this book is how deeply it blurs the line between what it means to be human and to be a baboon.

My favorite memoirs blend personal observations with some history and natural history and this book delivers on all those fronts.

I enjoyed how Berger’s essays ranged from the microcosm to the macrocosm, focusing on subjects as diverse as the dogs who lived on the rooftops of La Paz neighborhood, to the joy and the business of chasing eclipses.

An amateur natural historian who previously wrote about the environmental effects of the Glen Canyon Dam in “There Was a River” Berger obviously loves Baja, but more importantly, he is fascinated by the unique desert peninsula. His book drew me in from its first page and fascinated me in repeated readings.

This beautiful nonfiction book is a chronicle of four seasons spent following the desert bighorn sheep who live throughout the Southwest.

Even if you’re thinking, “Hmm, I’m really not that interested in sheep,” this book transcends its subject, weaving together science, imaginative observation, and personal reflection. She probes deeper, contemplating how humans connect with the more wild creatures on the animal spectrum.

The late Ellen Meloy was a lyrical writer, and all of her books are worth a read, but I especially love this book. Here’s a quote to give you a taste of her writing: “Each time I look into the eye of an animal...I find myself staring into a mirror of my own imagination.” 

How better to get kids involved with our world than a sensitive picture book for the younger set?

A young boy goes hiking with his mom across a desert area and down into a canyon. He notices all sorts of wonderful sights and sounds from the crunching of his boots on the stones to the horned lizard tracks, the road runner snatching a rattlesnake, and the riot of wildflowers of a desert in bloom. 

The illustrations, in their soft desert tones, are evocative and have just the pertinent detail that allows the reader to identify each new discovery.

I’m partial to stories that create a set of beliefs and identities for animals. Martine Leavitt does this in a way that’s at once simple and profound. Tuk is a fantastic character that young readers will relate to and root for. If your child liked Pax and A Wolf Called Wander they will love this book.

The Gates of Heaven is book three of Seven Brothers, a four-book series, in which the presence and role of the gods become more and more apparent as the overarching story unfolds. Llesho’s story starts off as what you might expect of a young prince in exile, sold into slavery as a pearl-diver, who escapes and sets out to find his scattered brothers. It doesn’t end up where you think, and this book is the point in the series where the story of gods and goddesses and dragons involved in human affairs really takes over as the main plotline, though the threads of it have been there from start. Mountains, grasslands, ancient cities, and their trade routes—this is an excellent silk road fantasy as well.

This book is a joy to read. It tells the story of nature as it once was to help us understand what it will be. And in both cases, humans have been a central element. It changed my views about how we have been tampering with nature for a long time and how the challenges we face today have been centuries in the making. But MacKinnon left me with a message of hope, provoking me to better see our place in nature, how to work with it rather than against it, and in the process become better human beings on this wonderful planet.