100 books like Mighty Storms of New England

Meteorologists generally regard this 2004 two-volume set as the definitive tome in describing the major snowstorms which have impacted the northeastern US since colonial times. These two highly credentialed and well-known former National Weather Service experts provide a detailed analysis of each storm, along with their painstaking reconstruction of surface and upper-air pressure patterns for many of them. The result is an enormous wealth of information offered up in this 821-page magnum opus (with some 500 references) which will satisfy both the interested layperson and the seasoned professional meteorologist. 

This delightful chronicle of the infamous Blizzard of 1888 and its impact upon the population of New York City was published on the storm’s 100th anniversary. Prior to penning this book, Ms. Cable authored nine others over nearly two decades—including several on American social history—and served as editor/writer for The New Yorker and Harper’s Bazaar (among other publications). In my view, this prior experience was key to her uncommon ability to consistently evoke the vivid images of the trials and tribulations experienced by numerous real-life figures (some famous), and to create a broader social context throughout the book. For these reasons, hers was among the most enjoyable accounts of the Great Blizzard I’ve had the pleasure of reading.

This book is ideal for those who simply want to enjoy the plethora of great visuals which capture the splendor of New York City’s most memorable blizzards. Covering twelve such events between 1888 and 1994, this oversized book contains, by far, the greatest number of photos I have ever seen in a single compilation. Each photo’s caption also includes the source detail—something rare in most other accounts. Ample text accompanies each photo, making this a most pleasurable and informative read. 

This book, with its captivating accounts of human bravery, is unmatched for sheer excitement. Turner’s vivid description of the misfortunes befalling scores of residents throughout the Northeast stems from the astonishing level of detail he garnered through dozens of interviews with survivors and meteorologists and from myriad articles he culled from over 20 newspapers dating back to 1888. Born in 1935 and a lifelong native of the Jersey shore, he is able to artfully share his childhood experiences living through three of the legendary superstorms in this superbly written and well-researched work. Even without a degree in meteorology (though once a high school geography and English teacher), Turner’s love of big storms—particularly snowstorms—is obvious throughout. Dare I say it could well rival my own?

I love how Dean takes a creepy cow head on a barn, and builds a compelling mystery around it. The cow head permeates the book, watching, judging, accusing, and shedding tears in the aftermath of a storm—seemingly more alive than wooden. Next to the cow head, snow is the dominant image. It’s a place for fun, as the main character and her close friend create snow angels, but it also carries a warning in the form of a message written in white, and as a blizzard, it knocks out the power in town, making getting around dangerous. Set in New England in the dead of winter, this is a book to read on a dark, frigid night with a hot drink and a blazing fire. 

I chose this quietly devastating first novel by Susan Minot because it is a delicate family story, thought to be based on her own childhood of growing up as one of seven children. When it came out, many of her siblings became upset with her portrayal of events; a few even wrote their own novels with their version of what they perceived as “the truth”. My own sister stopped speaking to me when I sent her my first memoir to read. She eventually came around, and told me she was glad I’d told our story. I believe that the truth is not a solid, but a liquid. Truth is personal—it’s what we see, assume or believe filtered through our own lens and experience. 

Harriette Merrifield Forbes pioneered the field of American gravestone studies. Her admirable study has separate chapters on several artisans, including the 17th and 18th-century stonecutters of Boston, the Lamsons of Charlestown, the Fosters of Dorchester, the stonecutters of Groton and Harvard, and the “Thistle-Carver” of Tatnuck. It also has chapters on the gravestones of Rhode Island and Connecticut. 

Forbes initiated real interest in this area of research. I found it astounding that she could have accomplished so much in the 1920s—before the introduction of modern battery-powered flash systems (which I relied on so often in highlighting shallow carvings and lettering)—and almost singlehandedly lit the fire of inquiry in so many of us who followed her model. She was also attentive to the human side of this craft, with many interesting observations on the stonecutters’ intentions and skills.

Our Beloved Kin is a unique account of King Philip’s War that centers on the history of Native resistance and their experience of the conflict. Drawing on early documents and information often overlooked in previous studies, the author, a member of the Missisquoi Band of Abenaki, presents an in-depth chronicle of the war and the events leading up to it. I wish this book had been in print when I was researching my book. While it wouldn’t have changed the basic arc of the novel, it would have given me a more complete understanding of James Printer’s perspective.

This is one of the nonfiction books I read as a teenager that convinced me to become a professional writer. The author, Sebastian Junger, doesn’t just describe the titular storm (which hit the U.S. East Coast in 1991) in terrifying detail—he also manages to assemble all of the weather-driven chaos into a real, gripping narrative. We don’t know a lot about what actually happened to the Andrea Gail, the fishing boat at the center of the narrative, but Junger recreates its final hours in a way that feels bracingly real—and heartbreaking.

Even if you don’t like nonfiction books, The Perfect Storm has the pacing and heart of a novel. I consider it one of the finest—maybe the finest—disaster narrative ever written, and it’s a perfect choice of book if you’re trapped inside by a raging storm.

A superb history of a particular landscape in the midst of profound political, economic, and environmental transformation; it is a wonderful example of interdisciplinary research.

The book explores the Connecticut River valley in colonial New England, and shows how the economic needs and interactions of the Native American and European inhabitants completely reshaped the ecology of the region.

My favorite chapter is Roberts’s brilliant analysis of the lucrative trade in beaver pelts, which not only shifted the balance of power between Native Americans and European settlers, it also eradicated the beavers and their extensive network of dams, erasing the vast wetlands of the region and leaving the river itself unrecognizable.