100 books like Iona Iverson's Rules for Commuting

As a latecomer to long-distance hiking, this book is now one of my all-time favourites. It explores regrets and life's lessons, going beyond Alzheimer's.

One morning, Harold receives a letter from a long-lost woman, informing him of her impending death and wanting to bid farewell. Believing that walking the entire 600-mile journey and answering her in person could save her life, he embarks on this quest wearing only the clothes on his back.

With each step, Harold's past is peeled back, revealing deep wounds and losses that shaped his life and bringing him closer to healing. Along the way, he opens himself to the world, embracing not only others' vulnerabilities but also coming to terms with his own.

Driven by regret and the search for redemption, Harold's journey, both physically and emotionally, turns out to be a heartening one, narrated with a perfect blend of humour and pathos.

I was hooked from the start with the quirky but wildly entertaining and loveable Molly Gray. Her role as a maid at the hotel satisfies her need for “order,” a sentiment I can appreciate. I laughed out loud as Molly navigated the hotel corridors with co-workers and guests.

Then, when an inconvenient dead body upended her world, I felt her struggle as she was misunderstood and assumed guilty of the crime. I devoured this heartwarming tale of perseverance in one sitting and highly recommend an afternoon spent with The Maid.

I loved this book for its characters, especially Norman. Only a twelve-year-old boy, Norman has suffered the loss of his one true friend and now forms brave new plans: to find his birth father and to perform as a stand-up comedian at Edinburgh’s Fringe Festival. He is helped by his mother, her older colleague, and others he meets on the road trip to Scotland. Norman has terrible skin psoriasis, a fetish for cheese on toast, and vast quantities of courage and determination.

Some wisdom from Norman: "Never give up. Because no matter if everything goes to hell in a hand basket and you lose your father, your footy career, your baby, your memory, your son, your breath or your best friend, you’ve just got to keep on going."

Again, here is a fantastic cast of characters: the bold Mrs. B, the swearing Fox terrier, Decius, and the unassuming protagonist, Janice. Quiet, kind, thorough, outwardly unremarkable, Janice is a cleaner. She is also a wonderful listener. What a joy it is when, with a little help from her friends, she finally unlocks her own story and transforms her life.

Here’s the moment when Janice grasps how much hope can be found in stories: "She looks around at the shelves of books, every one of which she has handled, and she begins to think there may be a way. A way of finding that hope. She is, after all, a collector of stories and a storyteller. Maybe she could tell her story as she has told other stories?"

I found it fascinating to read how play has changed over the past fifty years and beyond. I found many parallels between the changes to children’s play and changes to children’s reading. The influence of mass media on today’s children's play is undeniable and the authors did a great job of highlighting both the potentials and limitations of this influence. I was left with many questions and ideas after reading the book and really enjoyed how the book taught me to think about children’s play in a new way.

Can we talk about how amazing Nora Roberts is? I started reading her more traditional romance novels as guilty pleasures when I was younger and quickly realized she loves to write about strong women. The O’Dwyer trilogy is part of her supernatural books, focusing on an ancient curse, a long-held obsession and the enduring power of love. Tucked in a small village in Ireland are a brother and sister, their American cousin, and their circle of friends. Together, witches, warlocks, and humans battle an ancient evil to break a curse that has plagued their family for centuries. Two of the main characters are separated from each other by the curse and their longing is so palpable. I don’t do spoilers, so you will have to read the trilogy to find out what happens. 

I’ll start this round-up with another book featuring an adorable french bulldog. Gaston is a story about family and that just because you might not look the same doesn’t mean you don’t belong. This story is a wonderful read-aloud with beautiful bold illustrations by Christian Robinson. This book celebrates blended families, being yourself, and as an added bonus, there are cute puppies. Who doesn’t love a book with cute puppies?!

Unlike the other recommendations, the plus-sized protagonist in this book is a man. Arthur Opp is a lonely shut-in who has lost his career, his friend, and his family of origin. His main solace is his correspondence with a former student, who, one day, asks him for help in guiding her son, Kel. 

From that point forward, the story is told from the alternating perspectives of Arthur and Kel. Both are plagued by isolation and tragedy. Though Arthur views himself as part of the shared soul of the lonely, he nonetheless begins to welcome people back into his life again and extols the virtues of found family to Kel.

This is a haunting, yet hopeful, book that stays with the reader for a very long time.

In urban warfare, boulevards, parks, palaces, and prisons take on crucial meanings. This is the launch point for Rapport’s narrative of how the spatial layout of three cities—colonial New York, revolutionary Paris, and imperial London—inspired and channeled violent uprisings and reprisals. Rapport ranges from New York’s Commons, a park contested by patriots and redcoats in 1770, to Paris’s Faubourg Saint-Antoine neighborhood, whose artisans stormed the Bastille in 1789, and on to the network of taverns created by London radicals as clandestine hubs of revolutionary activism during the 1790s. A treat for anyone interested in how eighteenth-century cities became battlegrounds for the era’s insurgent movements for freedom and equality.

It can be difficult for kids to see their parents as real people, and that’s why I love Some Places More Than Others. When Amara finally convinces her parents she should get to go on a trip with her dad to New York City’s Harlem to meet the grandfather she’s only spoken to on the phone, she uncovers the fact that her dad and her grandfather haven’t spoken in twelve years. I love the depiction of Amara’s father as a person in his own right, someone with a history and his own problems and how, as Amara slowly unravels the mysteries of her father’s past, she begins to understand herself better too.