78 books like The Golden Grindstone

Perhaps one of the most classic Arctic memoirs, this book is Ritter’s account of the year she spent in the remote Arctic wilderness of Spitsbergen in the 1930s. 

The nature writing is exquisite, and you can’t help but be transported to the time in place in which she lived, replete with polar bears and long, cold, (and dark) Arctic nights. 

It’s a richly lyrical, indeed Thoreauvian account of life in Labrador in the late 1920s. Among other things, the author and his life go on a long trek in the dead of winter and experience a remarkably different way of life – and mostly a rewarding one – from their previous way of life down south. I might add that the now-deceased author was a dear friend of mine.

This is a book whose relationship with toxic chemicals in the Arctic is much the same as the relationship Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring has with toxic chemicals down south. Ms. Cone does an expert job of documenting how these chemicals have gotten into the Arctic’s food web and affected wildlife as well as the Arctic’s Native peoples.

Snow Man offers a portrait of John Hornby, an Arctic adventurer who had no interest in being the first person to visit the North Pole or traverse the Northwest Passage, but who simply wanted to hang out in the Arctic in order to experience both hardships and delight. The book’s story deals with Hornby’s overwintering in an esker in the Central Canadian Arctic with a total novice, an Englishman named Critchell-Bullock. This 1931 book had been neglected, so I got it back into print and I wrote an introduction to it.

The highly readable Wealth Woman, by longtime Alaskan Deb Vanasse, fills a major gap on the Klondike bookshelf. It is the first full biography of Kate Carmack, the Tagish woman who was wife, sister, and aunt to the men whose discovery launched the gold rush. And it flips the conventional Klondike narrative on its head and considers the event from the generally overlooked perspective of the Indigenous communities and individuals whose territories were overrun by gold-seekers.

In The Sisters Brothers, Patrick deWitt pulls off the difficult task of making hired killers captivating. The sibling antiheroes go on a journey across the western landscape while contemplating their inner selves. In many ways weird, The Sisters Brothers ties a sometimes sad story together in a neat package. The book is a fascinating take on the traditional western.  

Author Jennifer Duncan an adventurous person herself, went to the Yukon a hundred years after the Klondike Gold Rush and lived in Dawson City, now a picturesque historical heritage town where the saloons and dancehalls replay the raucous social times of the 1890s gold rush.

Her book gives a real feel for the place and the remarkable women who grappled their way across the continent and north to the land of the midnight sun. They turned themselves into smart businesswomen and made fortunes without digging for gold.

A diligent researcher, Duncan casts a new light on who first discovered gold in the Klondike. Not the American Carmack but his Indigenous wife, Kate who let him take the credit for the discovery. He later denied her as his wife and abandoned her.   

This impeccably researched book by Yukon historian Michael Gates provides the backstory to the 1896 discovery that kicked off the Klondike gold rush. Small numbers of gold-seekers began prowling the creeks of Alaska and the Yukon as early as 1873 and their stories are every bit as fascinating as the stories of those who followed. These men, and the occasional woman, were a particularly hardy lot who put themselves through incredible hardship in hopes of finding a fortune. They were perfectly positioned to beat the rush to the Klondike goldfields and some of them did clean up. But regardless of whether they struck it rich, all of these risk-takers and dreamers helped set the stage for the big event.

Geraldine DeRuiter validates the outrage I feel at the absolute absurdity of being a woman in America. This is because she is just as outraged, but she conveys it with sarcastic, self-deprecating, and biting humor. 

Reading If You Can’t Take The Heat is like having margaritas with your BFF and tipsily yelling at the top of your voices about the injustices of everyday misogyny. Your hilarious, ferocious, fantastically brilliant BFF, that is. All while stuffing your face with chips and guacamole and simultaneously worrying about packing on the pounds. You’ll gossip about food, family, and feminism, and all will magically be linked together by DeRuiter. It’s absurd. It’s infuriating. It's cathartic. And I have never felt so seen.

Love with a Chance of Drowning had been recommended to me for a while, but I only recently dove in.

One of the reasons was the high price for the eBook, undoubtedly because this is a traditionally published memoir. And, what can I say? I adored this well-crafted love story set on a small sailboat crossing the Pacific Ocean, sprinkled with fearful and heartfelt incidents.

Torre is a fabulous writer, who pulls you into the narrative. She is witty, sarcastic, smart, straightforward, and doesn’t shy away from sharing personal insights, flaws, and brutal honesty, a touted aspect of my book as well.

The author used the present tense to impart a sense of urgency (it’s a wonderful tool to keep you turning the pages) and focused on the connection, strength, and commitment that is needed to rescue her relationship. This is one of the most skillfully written and compelling… show more.