97 books like Slovenology

In contrast to Slovenology, this book digs deeper into Slovenia. A memoir by an American who moved to the country in the mid-1990s after falling for a handsome Slovene poet, Debeljak tells the story of her life as she takes on the head-twisting nature of Slovenian, and gets to grips with a culture that is often quite different to that of her homeland. 

Debeljak does not hold back on personal details, and I loved how she pours her heart into the story, sharing so much of her inner feelings with us. She also writes with humor and beauty. I think Slovenia has changed quite a lot since Debeljak's story, but it's still a great read for any Slovenia fan.

Though I'd seen this book advertised, it took a recommendation from a Slovenian to make me read it. And I'm glad I did. Blake, a Canadian author who's lived in Slovenia for many years, has done an excellent job documenting what makes Slovenians–Slovene. 

It's an informative and frequently funny look at the country and its people. I found myself chuckling at many of the behaviors Blake notes that I had personally experienced myself.

With its undercurrent of dry humor and its overview of the people, this is a must-have book for anyone interested in understanding Slovenians.

As a fan of both Slovenia and the mountains, this book was a real treat. Written by a Canadian author, it’s an excellent account of the rise of Slovenian climbers during a golden era in the 1970s and ‘80s, who quickly became some of the most respected alpinists in the world.

Although it focuses on stories of high peaks, north faces, first ascents, and avalanches, it's set in a background of life in Slovenia, largely during the Yugoslav era. I found this insight fascinating, and it helped me to understand more about the Slovenian love of high places and what draws so many Slovenes to their numerous summits. A very enjoyable read–well-researched and written. 

Slovenia might only have two million citizens, but they've punched above their weight. Author John Bills has superbly brought 100 of the most important to our attention. I loved reading about Slovenia's world-famous endurance swimmers, Everest skiers, scientists, musicians, poets, playwrights, and more.

Laced with dry humor, this book is a must-have for Slovenophiles who want to learn more about the Slovenian people who have gone well beyond their borders and made their mark on the greater world. 

I am Slovene-American, my mother being off the boat. This book told me what I’d wanted to know: how my people engaged with the world around them, not just physically, but metaphysically. Anyone interested in understanding the way folk belief mixed with medicine, and why people would resort to beliefs we would view strange in modern day, could learn quite a bit from this book about the rural folk of Slovenia and their medicine.

It’s also a key resource for one fantasy book I still have in the works, which is reminiscent of Arden’s The Bear and the Nightingale, and it is a wonderful anthropological resource that shows, very plainly, how magic is alive in this world as much as it is in the fictional ones we love so much.

The sources found in Collective Identities illustrate how national ideas were received, fashioned, and conveyed by thinkers in many parts of Europe during the modern era. Each volume also includes a number of opening essays and chapter introductions which provide helpful references to additional foundational texts and matters of historical context. In sum, the volumes perform the very valuable service of introducing readers to some common elements in many ‘discourses’ from the period as well as important local variations in style and content.

Edna O’Brien’s 2012 autobiography Country Girl is a blunt, gripping, lyrical and non-self-pitying depiction of her early life in the west of Ireland. It exposes the stultifying conformity imposed by the Catholic Church, family and community which I experienced myself. She rebelled as she sought freedom and self-expression from a domineering mother and drunken father. Edna’s escape to Dublin, London and New York as well as her exile from Ireland reflects an individual addicted to drugs and alcohol who seeks acknowledgement, liberty and success through many failed relationships. Edna’s autobiography resonates with many of my own experiences of the 1960’s. Country Girl demonstrates how one Irish female writer broke the cultural silence so that others would not feel alone. Her writing was an inspiration to me for my own memoir.

Bryson’s various travelogues give you such colourful views of the places he visits and, if you’re journeying to Australia, Down Under is a must-read. Expertly combining sharp observations, unusual factual snippets, and incisive wit, the pictures he paints will inspire you to travel and see it for yourself... or alternatively, persuade you to avoid it at all cost. Whichever the result, you will be amply entertained. 

I love this book so much it made me want to write books. Seriously. This is the book that inspired me. Until I read this book (way back in 2000), I didn’t know non-fiction could be so informative, compelling, AND funny—all at once. But Bryson showed me it’s possible. Sure, he’s a witty writer. But I think Bryson’s real weapon is that he does his research.

He digs up the fascinating, bizarre, and downright unbelievable facts about his subject—in this case, the continent of Australia—then seamlessly weaves them into a compelling narrative that keeps readers looking forward to each intriguing nugget of information waiting for them to discover next. It wasn’t until the end that I realized I’d learned as much as I’d laughed.

Neil Ansell is such an honest writer. I came to this book because I loved his other writing about nature and followed him back through time to the five years he spent living alone up a Welsh mountain, seeing no one for weeks on end, exploring and working in the woods and hills around him.

It’s a rich and deep description of place, but more than that, it’s a gradual unfurling of Ansell’s sense of self. In a later book, he writes of that time of prolonged solitude, ‘You slough off the skin of self, all self-awareness, and are left with pure sensation. Nothing has a name; it is only itself.’

Ansell is a slow-burning writer who I trust completely to take me, however slowly, to a new understanding.