Here are 93 books that The Girl Who Lost a Leopard fans have personally recommended if you like
The Girl Who Lost a Leopard.
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I was a child who was very dissatisfied with the idea that this world, with its rules and routines, is all there is. Sunday school filled me with a fear of hell, and heaven sounded boring, a lot of people wearing white and singing. This forced me into the world of fairy and folktales: spirits, tricksters, masquerades, elves, werecreatures, and merpeople. It was all so exciting and, more than that, comforting. The just were rewarded, and the wicked were punished within the timeframe of the story, not later when they died.
I grew up reading fairy tales from other lands and taking our own oral stories back home for granted. At the very least, our stories belonged to dark, scary places.
This book changed all that. It was magical! It showed me new Igbo mythology and made my culture appealing and heroic. What's not to love?
I come from a family of some of the earliest big-game hunters turned conservationists of India and grew up treading jungles with my naturalist father. As a child, I was often found trying to catch a snake or spin a yarn or reading from the collection of wildlife and natural history books at home. Jungles were as much a part of growing up as was going to school, and I learnt precious life lessons from them. To pursue the cause of conservation, I’ve written several fiction and non-fiction books, as well as articles in national dailies/magazines on wildlife and nature, and I was appointed the Honorary Wildlife Warden of Udaipur, India.
500 square miles of terror. 125 deaths. One hunter.
The Rudraprayag man-eater’s reign of terror went on from 1918 to 1926.
The remarkable hunter cum conservation Jim Corbett’s inimitable style, simple language, and unadulterated love for the forests will keep you hooked to this gripping tale of true adventure as he follows the footsteps of the leopard in the wild mountains. What makes Corbett special is that he empathised with not just the plight of humans, but of animals too. “(The crime) of the leopard was not against the laws of nature, but against the laws of man,” the hunter wrote in his book.
Corbett was a real-life hero and an inspiration for my father. And subsequently for me too.
Jim Corbett's books are usually collections of stories about how he tracked and shot man-eaters in the Indian Himalayas. The present volume consists of a single story, which is perhaps the most exciting of all Corbett's jungle tales.
Fantasy has long been one of my go-to genres. I also studied history in college and grad school. And while my academic focus was 20th-century America, I’ve always enjoyed studying other regions and eras. So if you can boil a book down to the equation History + Fantasy = Magical Learning Experience, I’m in. Those are also the types of novels I love to write.
This one gets a content warning too: Black Leopard, Red Wolf is decidedly not a children’s book. It contains graphic depictions of violence, sex, and rape.
But the worldbuilding—my god, the worldbuilding. Black Leopard, Red Wolf is an African fantasy set before Europeans intrude, and there’s very little that feels “Western” about the story. The monsters are distinct (roof-walkers who stalk you from the ceiling, lightning vampires whose thralls crave their master’s charged blood, men who mutated themselves into spiders, and many more). The societies function according to different rules. The magic works in intriguing ways.
Black Leopard, Red Wolf also offers an unorthodox mystery to unravel. And while the voice lost me on occasion, there’s a messy genius here I’m glad I engaged with.
Ever since childhood, I have been fascinated by African wildlife. When I worked in Africa as a journalist, I always found ways to view wildlife and to meet those who lived alongside dangerous and charismatic animals and those who conserved them. When I moved into academia, I started researching human-wildlife relations in detail, examining sustainable conservation approaches and how to control the illegal wildlife trade. It is a passion, almost an obsession, and as I finish researching and writing one book, another is already fixed in my brain.
Published 80 years ago and based on the author’s experiences hunting man-eating tigers and leopards in northern India, I read this book repeatedly. Well and sensitively written, it is not a book of boasting, hunting, and bravado but a nuanced account of efforts to protect local people from the ravages of seriously dangerous wildlife.
Corbett, part of the British occupation machinery in India, projects a love of the people of northern India and the wildlife. He is deeply committed to both and laments the need to kill tigers but accepts that protecting ordinary people is the priority.
He provides a wealth of wildlife information and always explains how and why a tiger became a man-eater–often the result of a bad encounter with a porcupine, the breaking of canines in older tigers, or injuries received hunting or being hunted.
Her tracks now–as she carried away the girl–led into the wilderness of rocks, some acres in extent, where the going was both difficult and dangerous. The cracks and chasms in between the rocks were masked with ferns, blackberry vines, and a false step, which might easily have resulted in a broken limb, would have been fatal. Progress under these conditions was of necessity slow, and the tigress was taking advantage of it to continue her meal. A dozen times I found where she had rested, and after each of these rests, the blood trail became more distinct.
There is no quality of life without meaning, and there is no better meaning than the search for it. The Vision Quest has been a beacon of hope for me my entire life. It permeates all my aspirations and writing. It inspired me to hitchhike worldwide for five years and continued into my professional life. I hope you enjoy the selections.
This book is the ultimate spiritual rite of passage. It begins with a metaphor—a lone leopard dead on the summit of the mountain. I felt the pain and chaos of Hemingway’s protagonist, Harry, deeply dying of gangrene on the plains, never to find enlightened consciousness on the clean white mountain canvas high above.
Good things happen in the mountains; bad things happen on the plains. This story sparked my climb of Kilimanjaro, my vision quest in the Cartwheels Quadrilogy.
Men and women of passion and action live, fight, love and die in scenes of dramatic intensity. From haunting tragedy on the snow-capped peak of Kilimanjaro to brutal sensationalism in the bullring; from rural America with its deceptive calm to the heart of war-ravaged Europe, each of the stories in this classic collection is a feat of imagination, and a masterpiece of description. The Snows of Kilimanjaro is one of the best known and loved collections of stories by one of the greatest literary novelists of the twentieth century.
I’ve always been an animal lover who's also interested in what makes different creatures tick: how they’ve evolved as living beings, where and how they exist, and what role any given one plays in our world at large. I also find bodies of water calming to gaze at, fun to splash in and sail on, and it’s intriguing to study them as ecosystems. Each type—from small transient sidewalk puddles to vast enduring seas—can support some form of animal life under the right circumstances. And, for me, the fact that we humans spend most of our time experiencing life on land makes marine life that much more mysterious and magical to learn and write about.
This adorable story revolves around Shawn, whose love for the majestic shark is so strong that he revels in learning all the things about its life and function in the sea.
When it’s time for his class to draw predator names for a project assignment, Shawn is devastated to wind up with the Leopard Seal instead of the Great White Shark that Stacy drew. Tensions flare between the two when Stacy refuses to trade predators.
The rest of the story unfolds as Shawn slowly realizes he can love sharks andseals, and that a really great thing about humans—like Stacy and him—is that they can figure out how to become friends with each other.
Shawn loves everything about sharks. He loves their dark, blank eyes and the way they can grab something tasty like a seal in just one bite. He loves sharks so much it's really all he thinks about, until Monday.
On Monday, Ms. Mitchell tells the class they may each pick one predator's name out of a bowl, and that is the animal they will learn about. Shawn wants to pick sharks so badly he almost falls out of his chair. But Shawn does not pick sharks.
Writers often get labeled as either nonfiction or fiction writers. In grad school, it was very difficult to study across genres, which I found very frustrating: To me, the most important thing about a book has always been the voice. A novel? A memoir? Essays? Stories? Don’t pin me down, just give me something with a voice that propels me forward, that is unique and sparkling and unputdownable. When I find books with voices so singular and propulsive, I return to them over and over.
A dizzying, intoxicating, completely engrossing memoir by another poet, who’s most famous as the author of The English Patient. I always feel a little tipsy, in the best way, reading this one.
Ondaatje was born in Sri Lanka and sets out as an adult from Canada to discover the mysteries left behind by eccentric, long-lost family members in a land he loves. Newspaper articles, pictures, ghost stories, and poetry comprise this one-of-a-kind narration. When his brother pleads with him to get this family history right, you feel the weight of the request as heavy as a summer rain.
In the late 1970s Ondaatje returned to his native island of Sri Lanka. As he records his journey through the drug-like heat and intoxicating fragrances of that "pendant off the ear of India, " Ondaatje simultaneously retraces the baroque mythology of his Dutch-Ceylonese family. An inspired travel narrative and family memoir by an exceptional writer.
I’ve turned lessons from a 30-year career with the Central Intelligence Agency into crime fiction loaded with intrigue and deception. My Detective Emilia Cruz mystery series pits the first female police detective in Acapulco against Mexico's drug cartels, government corruption, and social inequality. Readers will love Detective Cruz’s complex plots, fast action, and exotic location. I’m originally from upstate New York, the setting for the upcoming Galliano Club thriller series. My family tree includes a mayor, a Mensa genius, and the first homicide in the state of Connecticut with an automatic weapon. After killing two people, including his wife, my great-grandfather eluded a state-wide manhunt. He was never brought to justice.
I love the combination of a historical mystery with a
little-known location, but this book also charmed me with a spare but fluid
writing style. Ceylon in the 1930s under British rule (today Ceylon is
the independent nation of Sri Lanka) sets the first book in the addictive Inspector Shanti de Silva mystery series
in a riveting yet mostly overlooked moment in history. Add a superbly written
cast of characters and set them at odds against each other, and I’m hooked on
the whole series.
De Silva is the head of a 3-person police force in the
smallish city of Nuala where he must straddle the divide between the local
population and his British bosses. Reports of a cruel tea plantation owner lead
to a missing worker and the owner’s suspicious debt. A dubious business
associate, a frazzled wife, and a chatty mynah bird all combine to add layers
of…
Meet Inspector Shanti de Silva, the new chief of police in Nuala, a sleepy town in the beautiful tea country of colonial Ceylon. He moved from the big city in search of a quiet life, but now that he’s faced with the suspicious death of an arrogant plantation owner, it looks like Nuala won’t be as peaceful as he’d hoped. He’s going to need all his experience to unravel the mystery and prove his worth to his new British boss. A vintage-style mystery set in the 1930s, spiced with colourful characters and a dash of humour.
When my father died in 1998, bladder cancer, I was 41 years old and privileged to be his primary caregiver for five weeks. My first major loss and it was as though a mack truck had been driven through my chest. Ten years later, my mother died, after nine years of dementia, which is like losing someone twice. That was a more ravaging grief. Twelve years later, my nephew died, a month away from his 36th birthday. And in 2022, one close friend of mine took his own life and another died of cancer at age 57. Grief is the subject I gravitate toward in the books I read and the essays I write.
This book is about the most horrifying loss imaginable: the author loses her parents, her husband, and her two young sons all at once, in the tsunami in the Indian Ocean, the day after Christmas, 2004. She and her family were spending the holiday in Sri Lanka when the wave hit and overtook the jeep in which they were attempting to flee. I can’t come up with a better justification for suicide than this—she’s lost everyone; she wonders why she was spared, just to suffer these losses every minute of every hour of every day. The book is both a horror story and a testament to human strength. I assure you, you won’t be able to put it down.
The book opens and we are inside the wave: thirty feet high, moving at twenty-five mph, racing two miles inland. And from there into the depths of the author's despair: how to live now that her life has been undone?
Sonali Deraniyagala tells her story - the loss of her two boys, her husband, and her parents - without artifice or sentimentality. In the stark language of unfathomable sorrow, anger, and guilt: she struggles through the first months following the tragedy -- someone always at her side to prevent her from harming herself, her…
Nicholas Jubber has written for the Guardian, Irish Times and Telegraph, amongst other publications. He has won the Dolman Travel Book Award, for which he has been shortlisted three times, and his books have been picked by National Geographic, Wanderlust and the New York Times, amongst other publications, for their books of the year.
The scale of this ancient Indian epic is off the charts, fusing Hindu iconography with story beats of startling familiarity. Monkeys build a bridge between India and Sri Lanka, an army of demons takes on the vanguard of the gods and the villain is felled by a celestial bow. An influence on storytelling down the ages – notably Star Wars – it’s a tale as exciting as it is charming, with a surprisingly downbeat coda, as Queen Sita discovers that being rescued by her divine husband isn’t enough to survive the prejudices of her age.
Which version to read? Arshia Sattar’s 1996 translation is available in Penguin translation. I can’t testify to its accuracy, but it’s a magnificent read.
One of India's greatest epics, the Ramayana pervades the country's moral and cultural consciousness. For generations it has served as a bedtime story for Indian children, while at the same time engaging the interest of philosophers and theologians. Believed to have been composed by Valmiki sometime between the eighth and sixth centuries BC, the Ramayana tells the tragic and magical story of Rama, the prince of Ayodhya, an incarnation of Lord Visnu, born to rid the earth of the terrible demon Ravana. An idealized heroic tale ending with the inevitable triumph of good over evil, the Ramayana is also an…
