100 books like Under the Sea-Wind

The late Edward Abbey might be a controversial figure, but you can’t write about desert literature without mentioning this iconic book.

In this book, Abbey captures his experience as a winter caretaker of Arches National Park (before it was a national park and before the road in was paved). In 18 chapters that read like short stories, he chronicles long days on horseback, jaw-dropping tales of flash floods, journeys up remote canyons, and more adventures that do an uncanny job of conveying the spirit of the desert and what it was like to explore it mid-century.

Abbey’s writing is blunt, colorful, and engaging, and this book is a romp of a read. 

I love Cape Cod and I was fortunate to live on the edge of the sea between 1997-2003. Skillfully written by one of America’s greatest writers of the natural habitat, it transports you to a place. It reminds me of what it felt like to live far out in Cape Cod on the North Atlantic at its furthest reach on the east coast of the United States. Living there for several years and spending time in nature with the sea, beach, dunes, and my bicycle, I learned to love its moods, wildlife, and great sense of mystery. I totally identified with this man’s extraordinary experience and how it was years ago. A wonderfully descriptive book that helps you experience with all your senses what it’s like to live next to the sea alone. 

Aldo Leopold was a Forest Service ranger stationed in New Mexico’s Gila National Forest when he first began advocating for a new approach to managing national forests. Leopold’s visionary thinking and diligent advocacy resulted in the first-ever Wilderness Area in the U.S.—the Gila Wilderness Area, established in 1922—more than 40 years before the Wilderness Act was passed by Congress in 1964. A Sand County Almanac is Leopold’s best-known work and follows his efforts to restore a patch of cut-over farmland in Wisconsin while also articulating his vision of a land ethic where humans and nature are intertwined and care for people cannot be separated from care for the land. His beautiful writing resonated strongly with me when I first read A Sand County Almanac more than two decades ago, and his vision remains as important now as ever.

Darwin was chosen to accompany Captain FitzRoy on this voyage of exploration and science. Though Galápagos only represented five weeks of a five-year journey, it is the most significant chapter.

His journal takes us around the world as Darwin describes the natural history of the tropics and their relationship to the earth. He realised that isolated forms on archipelagos distil the process of natural selection. He was fascinated by the reptiles, especially the unique marine iguanas. Later the study of collected bird species brought him closer to his ideas on evolution.

Having lived on the islands, I am impressed by how much he observed in such a short time. He taught me how geology, climate and flora and fauna all play an important role in the natural world. It made me realise the value of patient observation.

It would have been impossible to write my book without Jeff Boslter’s The Mortal Sea.

With evocative prose and argumentative verve, Bolster’s book relates the deep, centuries-long history of overfishing while probing the depths of the interdependent relationship between humanity and the ocean. The Mortal Sea is one of the finest exemplars of environmental history by bringing together the narrative skill and argumentation of the historian with the insights of the ecologist and marine biologist.

Bolster reminds us that some of the most important connections existed not just across the sea, but with it.  

A street at the edge of the Pacific in Monterey where sardines are brought in to be canned, is the setting for a collection of colorful characters Steinbeck knew.

Chief among them is Doc, based on Steinbeck’s friend Ed Ricketts, who operated a lab that collected and prepared aquatic specimens for schools and museums. The lab is still there, next to the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

The canneries closed by the 1970’s and today Cannery Row is a thumping tourist trap. But I loved the book because of Doc, a gentleman, and a scholar if there ever was one.

This book follows the accomplishments of Sylvia Earle who “lost her heart to the water” as a child. She snorkeled, then learned scuba diving. She kept on, joining an ocean expedition as the only woman among 70 men, lived underwater for 2 weeks, designed a deep sea diving bubble, and more. “Wow!” I love that she stayed so long to learn that each individual fish is different from another, that whales swim like ballerinas, and every spoonful of ocean is full of tiny, and sometimes sparkly, creatures. Most important she learned how vital the ocean is to the health of our planet and better ways to take care of it.        

Who can resist a heroine who climbs a tree barefoot (in growing winds) and leaps to an attic window to hear one of her favorite authors speak? Not me! I’m a big Jane Austen fan and K.L. Going was able to capture the spirit and wit of her work in this wonderfully layered and romantic tale. (No worries if you or middle grade students you know are not familiar with Austen—the story stands on its own.)  

Just like in my book, the story is set in Maine and the protagonist’s parents are divorced. There are multiple loves stories in this book, and I adored every one of them. I cried big happy tears in the end. I bet you will too.

While on a summer backpacking trip with her fiancé, twenty-eight-year-old Shannon Fowler’s life was suddenly and irreparably altered when her fiancé was stung and killed by a box jellyfish on the remote shore of an island in Thailand. In an effort to save her own life, to discover how to go on, she turned to traveling the world. 

In rich detail, heart-breakingly honest prose, and deeply intimate story-telling, Shannon takes us along as she journeys to some of the most grief-stricken and tragic sites in the world. It’s through her travels, her interactions with strangers, her explorations that she begins to heal. 

This story and Shannon’s unflinching telling gave me courage as I wrote my memoir—courage to open my heart not just to my own grief but to my personal connection to the ceaseless grief in our world.

This book is just truly stunning. I feel a sense of awe and honor to peer into the brilliant mind of this author.

The lines hurt my tender and receptive heart. I love all the creatures mentioned in this book, many of which I study or work for myself, but honestly, this writer could be talking about dentistry, recycling, or even taxes, and the particular and profound use of language and spirit that come through would still be enough for me stop everything and just take a breath and close my eyes in gratitude.

This is a beautiful composition of storytelling and science, of fact and soul. It’s my love language, and I’m an adoring fan.