Here are 100 books that Salt Fish Girl fans have personally recommended if you like
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I’m an artist and writer who works with food and eating. I find inspiration for my practice in my own body processes and in caring for and advocating for my friends and family. When my grandfather lost the ability to swallow, I began to understand the fragility and vulnerability of our gastrointestinal systems. After many years of teaching, making, and writing about food art, I started to wonder about what happens after eating. The books on this list join me in arguing for digestion, metabolism, and defecation as vital cultural processes. These authors have changed how I relate to food, guts, and my body.
Laporte’s poetic and sweeping tour of turds made me realize how flushing my toilet produces and reinscribes cultural norms. Read the history behind our collective fascination with “sewer stories,” whether it’s London’s immense blobs of underground fat or urban legends about deadly crocodiles or mutant goldfish.
I love how this book has inspired and influenced contemporary metabolic artists. In 2017, Kathy High and Guy Schaffer created a mixed media project “committed to re-imaging and re-inserting feminist and queer stories into our histories of medicine and science” and called their work History of Shit as an homage to Laporte. I am moved by how High and Schaffer continue Laporte’s work within what might have been his natural lifespan had we not lost him and countless artists and philosophers to the AIDS pandemic.
"A brilliant account of the politics of shit. It will leave you speechless."
Written in Paris after the heady days of student revolt in May 1968 and before the devastation of the AIDS epidemic, History of Shit is emblematic of a wild and adventurous strain of 1970s' theoretical writing that attempted to marry theory, politics, sexuality, pleasure, experimentation, and humor. Radically redefining dialectical thought and post-Marxist politics, it takes an important—and irreverent—position alongside the works of such postmodern thinkers as Foucault, Deleuze, Guattari, and Lyotard. Laporte's eccentric style and ironic sensibility combine in an inquiry that is provocative, humorous, and…
I’m an artist and writer who works with food and eating. I find inspiration for my practice in my own body processes and in caring for and advocating for my friends and family. When my grandfather lost the ability to swallow, I began to understand the fragility and vulnerability of our gastrointestinal systems. After many years of teaching, making, and writing about food art, I started to wonder about what happens after eating. The books on this list join me in arguing for digestion, metabolism, and defecation as vital cultural processes. These authors have changed how I relate to food, guts, and my body.
Alison Knowles made many of my favorite food works. I’m constantly inspired by her practice and how she reminds us that food is an environment.
This must be one of the best catalogues I’ve read, and part of that has to do with the beauty of the book itself. Each unique cover is a makeready press sheet, and the smart essays complement a real sense of the exhibition, including a comprehensive timeline.
The first survey of the Fluxus cofounder's prolific avant-garde output, from eight-foot-tall books to make-a-salad performances
The American artist Alison Knowles' (born 1933) groundbreaking experiments-from painting and printmaking to sculpture and installation, sound works, poetry and artist's books-have influenced art and artists for more than 50 years but remain relatively unknown among mainstream audiences. The first comprehensive volume on the artist, By Alison Knowles: A Retrospective presents more than 200 objects that span the entire breadth of her career, from her intermedia works of the 1960s to forms of participatory and relational art in the 2000s. The accompanying catalog features…
I’m an artist and writer who works with food and eating. I find inspiration for my practice in my own body processes and in caring for and advocating for my friends and family. When my grandfather lost the ability to swallow, I began to understand the fragility and vulnerability of our gastrointestinal systems. After many years of teaching, making, and writing about food art, I started to wonder about what happens after eating. The books on this list join me in arguing for digestion, metabolism, and defecation as vital cultural processes. These authors have changed how I relate to food, guts, and my body.
I love books that are themselves artworks. Artist’s books take this on in all kinds of fabulous ways, but when writing for academic audiences, making a book that is also art can be challenging. Teaiwa’s book pulls it off.
This book accompanies a touring art exhibition, Project Banaba (I am grateful to have seen it at the Bishop Museum in Hawai’i last year). Together, the book and exhibition communicate deep impulses that inspire many artists: mourning, loss, exile, family, and justice.
My favorite chapter is a photo essay, “Remix: Our Sea of Phosphate.” Staying close to materials, in this case, phosphate, asks writers and readers to connect to how injustices and struggles manifest, I am grateful to Teaiwa for extending her writing into the world in creative ways.
Consuming Ocean Island tells the story of the land and people of Banaba, a small Pacific island, which, from 1900 to 1980, was heavily mined for phosphate, an essential ingredient in fertilizer. As mining stripped away the island's surface, the land was rendered uninhabitable, and the indigenous Banabans were relocated to Rabi Island in Fiji. Katerina Martina Teaiwa tells the story of this human and ecological calamity by weaving together memories, records, and images from displaced islanders, colonial administrators, and employees of the mining company. Her compelling narrative reminds us of what is at stake whenever the interests of industrial…
I’m an artist and writer who works with food and eating. I find inspiration for my practice in my own body processes and in caring for and advocating for my friends and family. When my grandfather lost the ability to swallow, I began to understand the fragility and vulnerability of our gastrointestinal systems. After many years of teaching, making, and writing about food art, I started to wonder about what happens after eating. The books on this list join me in arguing for digestion, metabolism, and defecation as vital cultural processes. These authors have changed how I relate to food, guts, and my body.
Everything
we do with metabolism and digestion in our bodies also happens at a planetary
level. Corals help me understand this, and this project by the Wertheim sisters helps me understand corals.
They published this book themselves so they could include the names of all the
crocheters and supporters who brought the Crochet Coral Reef into being.
We combine and recombine to become holobionts, working together in tiny and
vast symbiosis to ingest, digest, and metabolize the planet.
Now perhaps the world's largest participatory art and science project, the Crochet Coral Reef combines mathematics, marine biology, environmental consciousness-raising and community art practice. Almost 8,000 people around the world have contributed to making an ever-evolving archipelago of giant woolen seascapes, which have been exhibited at the Hayward Gallery, the Smithsonian and many other venues. This fully illustrated book, written by the project's creators--Margaret and Christine Wertheim of the Institute For Figuring--brings together the scientific and mathematical content behind the project, along with essays about the artistic and cultural resonances of this unique experiment in radical craft practice. With a…
I’m an urban designer, author, and host of The Life-Sized City urbanism series - as well as its podcast and YouTube channel. I’ve worked in over 100 cities, trying to improve urban life and bring back bikes as transport. I came at this career out of left field and am happily unburdened by the baggage of academia. I've famously refrained from reading most of the (probably excellent) books venerated by the urbanism tribe, in order to keep my own urban thinking clear and pure. My expertise stems instead from human observation and I find far more inspiration in photography, literature, cinema, science, and especially talking to and working with the true experts: the citizens.
I’ve tried to explain this book to people for years, with varying degrees of success. It’s odd considering I’ve read it ten times. Bachelard was a philosopher but this is a work of deeply-rooted poetry. It’s not really philosophy or analysis, this book. It’s more of a seductive, lyrical invitation inside Bachelard’s dreamy, passionate imagination.
It explores the concept of “home” and the distinctions of inside and outside. It has nothing to do with cities or urbanism at first glance, but the second time I read it I tried to superimpose it onto the urban context. The idea of a city as a home - a notion that the Nobel Prize laureate for literature, Johannes V. Jensen, planted in my head in his 1934 novel Gudrun. I still have trouble explaining how, but this book is the seed for many of my thoughts and philosophies about space and cities.
Beloved and contemplated by philosophers, architects, writers, and literary theorists alike, Bachelard's lyrical, landmark work examines the places in which we place our conscious and unconscious thoughts and guides us through a stream of cerebral meditations on poetry, art, and the blooming of consciousness itself.
Houses and rooms; cellars and attics; drawers, chests and wardrobes; nests and shells; nooks and corners: no space is too vast or too small to be filled by our thoughts and our reveries.
With an introduction by acclaimed philosopher Richard Kearney and a foreword by author Mark Z. Danielewski.
I’m a Jamaican and Korean American author of young adult romance, and when crafting my stories, I love to create characters who go against the expectations thrust upon them, whether they’re based on race, ethnicity, sex, gender, sexuality, ability, etc. As a woman, as someone with multiple ethnic identities, as someone who isn’t neurotypical, and someone who doesn’t subscribe to the norms of gender and sexuality, navigating intersectionality has been a large part of my life and, therefore, my work. Rules should be broken when they're the ones telling us we can’t do something based on who we are.
This book features Princess Ying Yue, a character who defies numerous conventions, including traditional gender norms and the expectation that royalty must prioritize duty over love. I adored the complex dynamic between Ying and her two princes; I really couldn’t predict which direction the love triangle would go from the outset. There were so many twists and turns, but everything came together in a satisfying end.
This book was so creepy, eerie, and unsettling, yet beautifully written and carefully crafted with a rare elegance. The worldbuilding completely enamored me, and the creepy Mirror World is something that I’ll be thinking about for a long time.
I write adventure and mystery stories for children aged 9 - 13, involving battles with mythical creatures, dangerous pacts with demons, and other supernatural chills. My first book, Ante’s Inferno, won the People’s Book Prize and a Silver Wishing Shelf Award. For The Fall of a Sparrow, I drew on my love of ghost stories, not just for their scariness but also for their emotional complexity: ghosts don’t haunt just for the sake of it. They need something only the main character can give. Friendship, perhaps, a companion in their loneliness… or something much darker. Here’s my choice of classic stories in which ghosts pursue a wide – and sometimes terrifying – variety of agendas.
Even now, I can’t read this without getting goosebumps. No other writer matches L. M. Boston for creating an enchanting, intriguing atmosphere that leads the reader, along with the story’s main character, 7-year-old Tolly, to feel the ghost children long before they appear. When they do, the combination they bring of joy, playful behaviour, and wistfulness – there is a reason, after all, that they are all ghosts together – goes straight to the heart.
L. M. Boston's thrilling and chilling tales of Green Knowe, a haunted manor deep in an overgrown garden in the English countryside, have been entertaining readers for half a century. Now the children of Green Knowe--both alive and ghostly--are back in appealing new editions. The spooky original illustrations have been retained, but dramatic new cover art by Brett Helquist (illustrator of A Series of Unfortunate Events) gives the books a fresh, timeless appeal for today's readers.
I was a teacher and a professor who showed generations of students how to find x, how to prove figure 1 was similar to figure 2, how to make a machine search through millions of bits of data for an answer. An inspiration for a story struck me one day early in retirement as I was daydreaming. I began to write and have never stopped. It turns out that “if-then” is not so different from “what if.” The first is more like destiny, the second like free will. One is science, the other is fiction. “What if” has led me into strange lands.
I loved this book because it has mathematics to the nth degree! Some of it in the form of inside jokes like “easy to use partial differential equations” that made me laugh out loud. Some of it, such as “equations that had sadness as a constant,” are in a “techno-poetic” style that I strive to achieve in my own writing. But this “meta-science fiction” novel is also filled with musings on writing and creativity. The self-referential recursion of a book within a book within a book makes the paradoxes of time travel even more interesting. The “reality portions” in which the main character pursues his quest to “find his father” are as deep and well done a theme as any I have read in sci-fi.
With only TAMMY - a slightly tearful computer with self-esteem issues - a software boss called Phil - Microsoft Middle Manager 3.0 - and an imaginary dog called Ed for company, fixing time machines is a lonely business and Charles Yu is stuck in a rut.
He's spent the better part of a decade navel-gazing, spying on 39 different versions of himself in alternate universes (and discovered that 35 of them are total jerks).…
I grew up in the 1970s, still in contention for America’s most paranoid decade (thanks, Watergate). Practically everything I watched, listened to or read (right down to my beloved superhero comics) was asking, what’s hiding behind the world around you? I don’t think of myself as a paranoid guy – I don’t, for instance, believe in a real life Deep State – but these are the sorts of stories that resonate for me. Taken less literally, they do ask worthwhile and still disturbingly relevant questions: what is beneath the world you know and see every day? What is right in front of you, both good and bad, that you aren’t seeing?
Suburbanite Ragle Gumm is overcome with a sense of urgency to play a bizarre newspaper game every day. He’s so good at it, he makes a living from its cash prizes. But lately, his world seems to be fraying around him. Things he sees and knows are suddenly...not. And if you can’t trust the very ground you’re standing on, what’s left? This takes the whole “maybe my world isn’t what I think it is” idea about as far as it can go, and it was just about the first story to ever do that. The best, most satisfying book I ever read about a banal, mundane world that turns out to be anything but.
Ragle Gumm is an ordinary man leading an ordinary life, except that he makes his living by entering a newspaper contest every day - and winning, every day.
But he gradually begins to suspect that his life - indeed his whole world - is an illusion, constructed around him for the express purpose of keeping him docile and happy. But if that is the case, what is his real world like, and what is he actually doing every day when he thinks he is guessing 'Where Will The Little Green Man Be Next?'
Maybe because I grew up in San Diego, a city that boasts what ghost hunter Hans Holzer called the most haunted house in America, I’ve always loved ghost stories. I never encountered a ghost when I visited the Whaley House Museum, as Regis Philbin did when he spent the night, but I once took a photograph there that had an unexplained light streak on it. Although I conceived a passion for the printed word with my first Dick and Jane reader and wrote my first story at the age of six, it took me a few decades to fulfill my long-held desire to write a ghost story of my own.
This was a favorite of mine when I was about twelve, and probably should be considered a YA book. It’s a sweet and romantic tale with ghosts that are very real and fascinating historical details of the American Revolution.
I didn’t mind that each ghost told his or her story as if writing a novel—it worked. Charming rogue Peaceable Sherwood was a favorite character of mine as a child and was still very appealing to me when I reread it as an adult.
Newly orphaned Peggy Grahame is caught off-guard when she first arrives at her family’s ancestral estate. Her eccentric uncle Enos drives away her only new acquaintance, Pat, a handsome British scholar, then leaves Peggy to fend for herself. But she is not alone. The house is full of mysteries—and ghosts. Soon Peggy becomes involved with the spirits of her own Colonial ancestors and witnesses the unfolding of a centuries-old romance against a backdrop of spies and intrigue and of battles plotted and foiled. History has never been so exciting—especially because the ghosts are leading Peggy to a romance of her…
