74 books like Desert Notes

This was the book that, more than any other, enticed me to adventure. Robyn, her camels, and Diggity the dog felt like my people—yes, the animals, too. Robyn was many things I hoped I could be: brave, tenacious, and integrous.

This book gave me the confidence to forge on with planning my journey long before I knew why I was drawn to making it. For me, Robyn’s approach exemplifies why we should follow our hearts’ irresistible pull, however unreasonable. If we cannot, at first, explain what motivates us, then so much the better—more to discover along the way.

Crossing the Australian desert in the most essential way possible, borne out of a desire to be alone, has a purity and vitalness to it that is more than enough of an explanation for me.

A major part of why I read is to feel. Few books have moved me as strongly as this one. I deeply loved John Grady, and reading this book as he fought for love, his life, and the lives of his friends was a terribly painful experience.

Of course, it was worth it for the redemption, the passion and fidelity, the horses, the rivers, and the open plains. The emotions of McCarthy’s characters blaze through their sparse and natural dialogue.

When I emerged, heart wrung out and now strangely energised and peaceful, I felt differently about the world and for a while found it easier to belong to. My sense that beauty could emerge from adversity had been bolstered. 

This book produces a feeling of longing in me that I might someday handle the world with the voracity and veracity of Annie Dillard. Assuming that the enormity of wonder she provokes in me as a reader is just a fraction of what she, the originator of her experiences and descriptions, feels, then oh, the enviable richness of her life! Is anyone as astute and lucid as Annie Dillard?

Astounding language, never, ever straying into cliché, every word wondrous and holy and fresh. For me, she blows everyone else out of the water, not with an epic Odyssey or a feat of physicality but with these reverential and beautiful accounts of her frequent journeys to her local creek.

I love this book because it feels deep—it is deep—but it’s also engaging. There’s a story and characters to follow, but at its core, it’s a fascinating introduction to philosophy.

The meaning of life, the big questions, how to understand and negotiate the world. I first read it as a teenager during my gap year in Southeast Asia, and it was the perfect mental companion to the bombardment of my physical senses. Zen turned my perception of the world upside down, and I reread it occasionally.

It has one of the most memorable titles of all time, and I still quote its core message, which involves motorcycle maintenance.

The forthright honesty and the audacity of Nora Simms, narrator of Erika Mailman’s Woman of Ill Fame, is stunning and nearly as compelling as the murder mystery at the center of the novel. Set in San Francisco during the Gold Rush, the novel takes us into the city’s bordellos, which, like the rest of the state, have been infected by a get rich quick at any cost ethos. The cost for many of Nora’s colleagues is high. Women of ill-fame are being killed, one by one, and only Nora is capable and willing to wade through layers of deception to discover the identity of the killer and to save her own life. 

Nora is not your typical damsel in distress and that might be why I love this book so much. She’s not a “good” woman, by society's standards, but she is one of the most surprising… show more.

An interesting thing about reading this book is that I had read a novel about Dorothea Lange only months earlier. But when Darznik’s publicist reached out and asked me to read it, I couldn’t resist! Why? Because I love Dorothea and can’t get enough of her.

Dorothea is exactly the kind of woman I want to be BFFs with. But whose story would give me the intimate connection I was looking for? Jasmin Darznik, in her enchanting new novel, The Bohemians, that’s who.

On page one, I stepped into the relationship of two daring and talented women who seem different as night and day. Dorothea, a blond from New York and Caroline Lee, a black-haired Chinese American, raised in an orphanage.

For years, I couldn’t get yeast to cooperate. I just wasn’t patient enough and it was too darn temperamental. One day, the yeast worked. I made a lovely brioche dough and turned that into the stickiest, sweetest, yummiest cinnamon rolls known to man. 

I might not have stuck with my fussy yeast if it were of the variety in Sourdough. The starter that’s given to the main character sings, hums, and sometimes glows. It’s alive. I know that all yeast is alive, but this yeast is sentient. 

All that being said, the thing I love most about the book is that it is weird. I love weird people and things. I love weird books. What I don’t love about a lot of weird books is that they aren’t as immensely readable as Sourdough. Especially the ones that dance through genres as vastly different as science fiction and romance. But… show more.

I am in absolute awe of this essential American writer. This book made me cry, laugh, and shout in pleasure at the same time. I could hear, taste, and feel myself present in this book of poems, which explore loss and grief, but also tradition and legacy, our connection to the beloved dead through traditions.

Black food, music, and religious traditions are strongly present, but so is Wilco and Gram Parsons’ “Grievous Angel,” and we are immersed in one human’s attempt to sort out his place. Along with Heather Cahoon’s Horsefly Dress, which explores grief in the context of a Montana tribe, this book taught me how to think both beyond and more deeply within my own sense of “legacy.” 

I love the idea that there is someone out there who perfectly understands you. Even when I’m cranky, or when I’m making references to obscure bands, or when I’m not making a lot of sense, but I am clearly emotional.

This book introduced me to two people who love each other but can’t communicate well except through flowers. 

This story elicited every emotion: joy, excitement, yearning, jealousy, rage, hope, betrayal, relief, shock, bewilderment… it took my poor heart on a wild ride. However, there were two pieces that stand out in stark relief in my mind. First, the betrayal of the friendship in hopes of saving it. What a position to be in. Second, Nathan’s pain and confusion as he worked his way past his own assumptions. It’s never an easy journey to know oneself. Witnessing Nathan’s journey, because of the collateral damage to his most treasured relationship, stung. Compassion for both of them broke my heart. And isn’t that the whole point of a good story? To walk in someone else’s shoes and come away with more compassion, more wisdom, and a deeper capacity to love?