100 books like Monster of God

I don’t know which of the journeys in this slim volume I cherish more: the outer, which entails an arduous trek through a remote corner of the Himalaya, or the inner which involves the author’s fraught quest for a deeply Buddhist kind of inner peace.

I have carried this book on similarly long walks in the wilds of Laos and Nepal—even on the very trails that Matthiessen trod. It is one of the great companions of my life.

Those of us who wage the battle to conserve wildlife don’t always do so in the field. A successful conservation strategy starts with good science, but it often requires effective communication and political strategies as well. J.A. Mills, the author of Blood of the Tiger, is a master at both. Mills, who researched and battled illegal wildlife trade for traffic and the World Wildlife Fund for two decades, gives the reader an often thrilling and always insightful look at the still unfinished battle to save wild tigers from extinction at the hands of poachers and Chinese moguls. She is as expert in describing the politics of CITES – the Convention on Trade in Endangered Species – as she is in detailing the operations of the Chinese markets where tiger parts are sold. Full disclosure: Although Ms. Mills and I have worked in very different domains of the global environmental… show more.

Charlene D’Avanzo is a respected marine ecologist, and her expertise and love for the living creatures of the ocean shine through every page of Cold Blood, Hot Water. But in this, her first novel, she’s after much bigger fish than the ones who swim along with her research vessel. What she reveals to the reader is the real and potentially dire impacts of climate change on the ocean, and the dark motives that drive the energy industry and other malefactors to deny the threat. The wealth of scientific detail in her narrative never overwhelms the human drama of her story, and the result is a riveting tale of science and the sea.  

A Parrot Without a Name is the tale of a quest as primitive and compelling as any grail search from medieval legend. It’s the story of John O’Neill and Theodore Parker, two of the 20th century’s most accomplished birders and ornithologists, and their pursuit of the least known and most elusive birds in the whole of South America. Parker, whose death in a small plane crash in the Ecuadorian mountains cut off one of the most famous and unique escapades in birding – he ended up knowing and recording the calls of more than 4000 bird species – shows up as a colorful character with all the quirks of other great scientific iconoclasts such as Alan Turing and Robert Oppenheimer. 

I’m captivated by this book every time I read it (and I’ve read it a lot). It brings to light the uneasy relationship we have with wild creatures, especially when we unwittingly invite them into our own backyards. A thought-provoking (and often nerve-wracking) narrative about the clash between the citizens of Boulder, CO and the local population of mountain lions, and the distressing expansion of human beings into the few wild areas remaining to them (and, in fact, to all animals). When those pockets of wilderness are gone, where are they supposed to go? How can we alleviate human/animal conflict over resources?

If it’s not already abundantly clear, humans can’t help but argue about wild canids and other carnivores. The concept of trophic cascades, whereby the impacts of apex predators cascade throughout wood febs and whole ecosystems, is no exception. Many people celebrate wolves’ contributions to a wilder Yellowstone ecosystem. Others argue that trophic cascades are limited to certain landscapes. Cristina Eisenberg is a conservation biologist with a writer’s bent and will help you understand the science behind this important topic.

I debated whether to include this book because the author, Iraq war veteran Luis Carlos Montalván, apparently took his own life a few years after it was written, just before the sequel was published. Does that mean Tuesday didn’t “save” Montalván as the title says? I finished this book wishing that every returning service member could be given a service animal to help navigate their lives after experiencing psychological and often physical trauma. I didn’t warm up to the story right away, because it begins with a description of Tuesday’s training before the author knew him. Tuesday comes alive as a character when Montalván describes their strengthening relationship. Regardless of how the story ended, the healing power of their bond is miraculous and Tuesday did enrich Montalván’s life for the years they were together.

This has to be the coolest story of reinvention – man gets unexpectedly dumped by his wife, moves to a California beach town, rescues a 140-lb neglected Newfoundland, and teaches him how to surf with him on his longboard. Man and dog are both traumatized, and the scenes of their slow dance around one another in a tiny apartment are so sweet and awkward, like the slapstick 80’s sitcoms I grew up watching. I love stories like this that make me believe in fate, that Colin and his dog George were destined to give each other a second chance. When they start winning dog surf competitions, I was cheering out loud. It’s quirky, brilliant, and badass all wrapped in one. 

One of the cliches of historical fiction is that it can bring the past to life in a way that factual historical books can’t. If you read the superb City of Beasts you’ll think again! The book studies the many ways in which animals contributed to and shaped eighteenth-century London. History has largely overlooked their presence – but Almeroth-Williams puts them back in all their noisy, smelly, messy, toiling existence. Here, too, are the men and women who worked with them - the drovers, milkmaids, grooms, and pig keepers whose lives don’t often find a place in the history books. If you want sights, sounds, and smells, here they are in plenty. Few books I’ve read, fact or fiction, have given me such a vivid impression of the every day, working life of Georgian London.

I have two pets cats, and my relationship with them is pretty straightforward—I care for them to the point of being obsessive about meeting their every need. Unlike me, the communities described in this book have a range of relationships with the non-human species they share space with. Care of course, and kinship, but also relationships of conflict and violence. Complex themes such as animal ethics, Hindu nationalism, the politics of exclusion, conservation, and even inter-species love are written about against the backdrop of the everyday lives of the villagers. The binary of domestic cow and the wild bear and the pigs that fall in between are all a part of this narrative of the tangled relationship between humans and animals. For those of us who balk at reading anthropological works, this book is a pleasure and easy read for the relatable style of writing.