100 books like Waves of Knowing

I clung to every word, every story, and every turn of phrase like a traveler gripping a well-worn map. Listening to the audiobook version narrated by Cherokee Nation writer Daniel Heath Justice, the stories unfolded, some like a quiet stream, urging me to pay closer attention, others rushing flyaway wild like the wind, gripping, inspiring, and wandering. 

Tuning into the audiobook with my headphones on made my nature walks an immersive and contemplative experience I’d highly recommend. The questions posed about humanity challenge us to be better humans, and I was struck by the familiarity of the stories to my own culture.

I could read and listen to this book over and over again as the life lessons are so generously expressed and simply made me want more, more, more.

Drawing both tears and laugh-out-loud laughter, this compilation of short stories by Māori writers from Aotearoa transported me to magical worlds and ideas.

It’s a gem on my recommendation list, uncovering endless nuggets of golden meaning and messages. I especially relish the humor unique to Māori storytelling.

I respect the simplicity and significance of short stories for their ability to offer a quick read before bedtime or as a morning indulgence. I found great pleasure in diving into any story on any page on any given day or night (when I almost forgot to go to sleep), like enjoying good poetry, the words dance, sing, and linger long long after.

This one is left field as it doesn’t fall neatly into the list. I included this book to avoid the impression that only Indigenous writers can write about Indigenous experiences. It’s important that we do, of course, but this book puts a slightly different slant on the “self-representation” question from an intersectional perspective.

Black feminist writer, Patricia Hill Collins, introduces the concept of intersecting lives and experiences, highlighting common struggles among Indigenous, Black, Minority, and Queer communities and how we are affected by violence in different and shared ways, invisible and public.

I encountered this work during a period of similar oppressions, finding it to be a transformative gift. Patricia’s ideas expand my world to new possibilities beyond institutional thinking. I love how the writing is so accessible, and the pages just fly along. Love this woman!

Poetry like this is crucial to telling the other side of the story. It’s a counternarrative, and that’s why Oodgeroo’s work has shaped my thinking and experiences in life-affirming ways.

Oodgeroo sees her work as an extension of the songkeeping and oral storytelling so intrinsic to Indigenous social life and survival. Her poems are not simply about a bygone past, as every line is relevant today (but hush, you mustn’t say so, Oodgeroo teases). That’s why I treasure her wit and writing – they give me life, a lifeline to a reality often denied us in Western thought.

It is written with so much beauty, elegance, and hope. Full of love for her people and full of grace, passion, and rage. Because there is so much to rage about (but that is another story)…

In the ’70s through the early ’90s, Hawaiʻi went through massive social change.

There was a growing consciousness of the manipulation and exploitation that had accompanied Hawaiʻi’s colonization. With that came a collective desire to right the wrongs of history.

Trask describes the institutional racism, discrimination, and closed doors she faced as she attempted to forge a path for Native Hawaiian studies at the University of Hawaiʻi while participating in a growing movement against continued occupation. 

While working on my book, some suggested I soften the political thread woven within the story. It was Trask’s essay “Lovely Hula Hands” (a chapter of From a Native Daughter) that encouraged me to stay true to the portrayal of Hawaiʻi that countered the unflawed, pristine playground image sold to tourists.

Written at a time when Hawai’i’s history was still being glossed over, Trask’s interviews and essays provide an unapologetic perspective and… show more.

Jessica Machado’s father is Hawaiian and her mother is from the American South, a factor that looms large in a place like Hawaiʻi.

As a child, Machado senses that her life is complicated by history and context, but doesn’t have the words to formulate the questions brewing within.

In this touching coming-of-age memoir, Machado grapples with some of the same haunting questions and uncertainties that inspired my writing of my book while taking us on a journey to discover if her unshakeable connection to Hawaiʻi is a blessing, a burden, or a responsibility she’s lucky to have.

A must-read for anyone who has ever left home wondering how to take it with them.

One of my working titles for my book was A Country All Its Own, a phrase pulled from this exquisite novel set in Hilo, Hawaii. Ball plays with the theme of disappearance throughout, and it’s basically the female version of Australia Stories. Kinau, the narrator, is also shaped by her mother’s stories and haunted by the disappearance of her father, and the death of her ex-husband's stepson, who comes to the island in search of his own destiny. Original and breathtaking in its craft and message, Ball is an accomplished storyteller.

I promise not all my book picks are political! But this incredible book is a must-read, and as it explains, culture is political, politics are cultural.

There is no way to fully appreciate Hawaiian culture as it is today without being aware of what it took to keep it alive.

In this compilation, personal stories of activists and academics come together to offer a searing depiction of the cost of colonization and the ultimate love of their land that continues to fuel its resistance.

From water wars and land grabs to the touching story of how the Hawaiian language was brought back to life, A Nation Rising will broaden your understanding and appreciation for Hawaiʻi’s landmarks and tourist destinations.

Bamboo Ridge Press was established in 1978 to publish the multiethnic literature of Hawai’i. In this selection the best of its first eight years, the writers, of various ancestries, celebrate their families, cultures, and traditions, but also the cultures and traditions of others—a Hawaiian poet writes about a Tang fisherman; a poet of Chinese-Japanese ancestry and a writer of Puerto Rican ancestry reflect on Hawaiian activism; a white poet features bodhisattvas and Kuan Yin while another dedicates her song to a Hawaiian musician. Native Hawaiian writers are underrepresented in this collection published during a renaissance of Hawaiian culture, but a year earlier, in 1985, Bamboo Ridge also published Mālama: Hawaiian Land and Sea, an anthology of Native Hawaiian writers.

Laura’s fiancé and father die, and she travels from San Francisco to Hawaii to live with missionary relatives. It’s 1886, and Honolulu is the sophisticated bustling capital of a prosperous modern kingdom. Laura’s missionary relatives actively work to bring down the monarchy while Laura goes to work for the royal family. She builds quite a bond with the last queen, Lili`uokalani, who is trying to save her kingdom. This book tells the compelling story of the Hawaiian kingdom’s last days from a point of view inside the royal family.