Here are 78 books that Wild Harmonies fans have personally recommended if you like
Wild Harmonies.
Shepherd is a community of 12,000+ authors and super readers sharing their favorite books with the world.
I took piano lessons as a kid, but my teacher was imperious and boring. In my mid-30s I started thinking about it again, and my partner bought me a state-of-the-art Yamaha keyboard as a Valentine’s Day present. I found a wonderful teacher, Rafael Cortés, who worked at a community music school a few blocks from my office. Every piece we worked on began with a conversation about the composer, the period in which she/he wrote the piece, and the other artists–painters, sculptors, poets–who were working then. I fell in love with both playing and learning about music, and more than 30 years later, I’m still taking weekly lessons with Rafael.
I was struck by the ease with which Hodges moves from her own experience learning the violin to the scientific underpinnings of her subject: from math, physics, and neurology to quantum mechanics, biology, and entanglement theory, always in search of a clue to how music informs our experience of time.
Complex topics are suddenly eased by an anecdote from her personal life and practice: a bow dropping during Paganini or the story of her mother buying her “a red dress, bright as D major.” There’s a quality of searching that runs through these essays, both for scientific meaning in music as well a deeper understanding of the dynamics of her own life.
NATIONAL BOOK AWARD LONGLIST NPR "BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR" SELECTION NEW YORK TIMES EDITORS' CHOICE
A virtuosic debut from a gifted violinist searching for a new mode of artistic becoming
How does time shape consciousness and consciousness, time? Do we live in time, or does time live in us? And how does music, with its patterns of rhythm and harmony, inform our experience of time?
Uncommon Measure explores these questions from the perspective of a young Korean American who dedicated herself to perfecting her art until performance anxiety forced her to give up the dream of becoming a concert…
Music has been a passion ever since I joined my mother’s hippie jam sessions as a toddler. During my 17 years as a professional cellist-in-training, I tried Yo-Yo Ma’s Stradivarius and played Pachelbel’s Canon at a gazillion weddings. I even made it to Carnegie Hall, performing in a university orchestra on the gilded stage. But injuries, both physical and psychological, put an end to my classical music career. Trying to forget my cello years, I entered journalism, eventually becoming a staff health reporter at Canada’s national newspaper, The Globe and Mail. Later, when a percussion workshop triggered a dramatic shift in my perspective, I answered the call to explore music in a more expansive way.
Like most readers, I like my science sandwiched between stories.
Tim Falconer delivers a winsome tale of a writer diagnosed with “amusia"—the clinical term for “tone deafness”—who nevertheless longs to sing. Bashful yet determined, he delves into the science of auditory deficits and musicality on a quest to uncover why he can’t sing in tune, and whether anything can be done about it.
I couldn’t help but cheer him on as he endures remedial singing lessons and a nail-biting buildup to a public performance. Will he pull it off? And is there hope for other bad singers out there? I loved how Falconer used himself as Exhibit A to prove that even extreme tone deficits needn’t keep us from the joys of making music.
In the tradition of Daniel Levitin's This Is Your Brain on Music and Oliver Sacks' Musicophilia, Bad Singer follows the delightful journey of Tim Falconer as he tries to overcome tone deafness - and along the way discovers what we're really hearing when we listen to music.
Tim Falconer, a self-confessed "bad singer," always wanted to make music, but soon after he starts singing lessons, he discovers that he's part of only 2.5 percent of the population afflicted with amusia - in other words, he is scientifically tone-deaf.
Bad Singer chronicles his quest to understand human evolution and music, the…
Music has been a passion ever since I joined my mother’s hippie jam sessions as a toddler. During my 17 years as a professional cellist-in-training, I tried Yo-Yo Ma’s Stradivarius and played Pachelbel’s Canon at a gazillion weddings. I even made it to Carnegie Hall, performing in a university orchestra on the gilded stage. But injuries, both physical and psychological, put an end to my classical music career. Trying to forget my cello years, I entered journalism, eventually becoming a staff health reporter at Canada’s national newspaper, The Globe and Mail. Later, when a percussion workshop triggered a dramatic shift in my perspective, I answered the call to explore music in a more expansive way.
In the words of Joni Mitchell, you “don’t know what you got till it’s gone.” Only a person who has gone deaf partway through life knows what it means to live with and without sound. And music.
In this evocative book, British journalist Bella Bathurst chronicles her profound loss of hearing starting at age 27—and twelve years later, its dramatic return. The health reporter in me gave a thumbs-up to her skillful exploration of the lesser-known science of hearing.
She introduces expert lip readers, soldiers who accept deafness as an occupational hazard, and the copper “ear trumpets” used by Beethoven as his greatest joy ebbed. When Bathurst regains her hearing, I was awed by her description of hearing music anew: “It was a thousand volts of birdsong.”
In 1997, Bella Bathurst began to go deaf. Within a few months, she had lost half her hearing, and the rest was slipping away. She wasn't just missing punchlines, she was missing most of the conversation - and all of the jokes. For the next twelve years deafness shaped her life, until, in 2009, everything changed again.
Sound draws on this extraordinary experience, exploring what it is like to lose your hearing and - as Bella eventually did - to get it back, and what that teaches you about listening and silence, music and noise. She investigates the science behind…
Music has been a passion ever since I joined my mother’s hippie jam sessions as a toddler. During my 17 years as a professional cellist-in-training, I tried Yo-Yo Ma’s Stradivarius and played Pachelbel’s Canon at a gazillion weddings. I even made it to Carnegie Hall, performing in a university orchestra on the gilded stage. But injuries, both physical and psychological, put an end to my classical music career. Trying to forget my cello years, I entered journalism, eventually becoming a staff health reporter at Canada’s national newspaper, The Globe and Mail. Later, when a percussion workshop triggered a dramatic shift in my perspective, I answered the call to explore music in a more expansive way.
Baroque in prose and unabashedly erudite, this scholarly memoir by a Pulitzer Prize-winning arts critic may not be for everyone.
But I adored his uncanny descriptions of musical interpretation (such as Glenn Gould’s “flinty” recording of Bach) along with Kennicott’s prickly asides—“I hate the word ‘healing.’” Following the death of his beloved yet cantankerous mother, Kennicott channels his grief into learning to play Bach’s masterwork, the Goldberg Variations.
For a lapsed pianist in midlife, it’s a Herculean task. Unanswerable questions absorb him along the way: What does it mean to know a piece of music? What does it mean to know another human being? Throughout his musings and often comical childhood memories, Kennicott’s devotion to his Baroque master shines clear: “If Bach’s Goldberg Variations are not great, then nothing is.”
As his mother was dying, Philip Kennicott began to listen to the music of Bach obsessively. It was the only music that didn't seem trivial or irrelevant, and it enabled him to both experience her death and remove himself from it. For him, Bach's music held the elements of both joy and despair, life and its inevitable end. He spent the next five years trying to learn one of the composer's greatest keyboard masterpieces, the Goldberg Variations. In Counterpoint, he recounts his efforts to rise to the challenge, and to fight through his grief by coming to terms with his…
I got hooked on mystery novels as a kid reading the Encyclopedia Brown stories. Something about the combination of a great story and a puzzle to solve is irresistible to me. As a historian, I’m interested in communities, and especially how people understood themselves as being part of the new kinds of economic, political, and cultural communities that emerged in the first half of the twentieth century. When I learned about Dorothy L. Sayers’ lifelong writing group, the wryly named ‘Mutual Admiration Society’, I was thrilled at the chance to combine my professional interests with my personal passion for detective fiction.
If any contemporary detective writer is the heir to Dorothy L. Sayers, it has to be Fred Vargas.
Trained as a historian and archaelogist, she writes well-plotted mysteries with complex, flawed characters. But most of all, her books are bristling with fascinating, arcane facts. In this novel, the inhabitants of a rural, mountainous region of France are being terrorized by what seems to be a huge wolf – or is it a werewolf?
The resolution is entertaining, but what I really loved was learning about everything from medieval legends to the contemporary politics of reintroducing wild wolves in Europe – not to mention sheep-farming, wildlife photography, and plumbing.
For anyone who loved Sayers’ deep dives on bell-ringing or the advertising business, Vargas is for you.
In this frightening and surprising novel, the eccentric,wayward genius of Commissaire Adamsberg is pitted against the deep-rooted mysteries of one Alpine village's history, and a very present problem: wolves. Disturbing things have been happening up in the French mountains; more and more sheep are being found with their throats torn-out. The evidence points to a wolf of unnatural size and strength. However Suzanne Rosselin thinks it is the work of a werewolf. Then Suzanne is found slaughtered in the same manner. Her friend Camille attempts, with Suzanne's son Soliman and her shepherd, Watchee, to find out who, or what is…
I’ve always been fascinated by monsters. Growing up I saw television shows and read books about famous ones like Bigfoot and Nessie, and always wanted to search for them and discover the truth. That led me to a degree in psychology to learn about human cognition and perception, and a career in folklore to understand how legends and rumors spread. But I also wanted field experience, and spent time at Loch Ness, in Canadian woods said to house Sasquatch, to the Amazon, Sahara, and the jungles of Central America looking for the chupacabra. Along the way became an author, writing books including Tracking the Chupacabra, Lake Monster Mysteries, Big—If True, and Investigating Ghosts.
There are many terrifying monsters, but few were as feared as the beast of Gévaudan, which terrorized the French countryside in the 1760s.
Said to be, variously, a werewolf, a dog-hybrid, a hyena, or some unknown beast, it was blamed for killing many dozens of villagers. The French government sent top hunters to kill the beast, and conspiracy theories ran rampant. I recommend Monsters of the Gevaudan because I love the way it blends history, folklore, and investigation into a compelling mystery.
Don’t believe the mystery-mongering TV shows offering wild theories: the truth is in this book—and it’s stranger than fiction.
In a brilliant, original rendition, Monsters of the Gevaudan revisits a spellbinding French tale that has captivated imaginations for over two hundred years, and offers the definitive explanation of the strange events that underlie this timeless story.
In 1764 a peasant girl was killed and partially eaten while tending a flock of sheep. Eventually, over a hundred victims fell prey to a mysterious creature, or creatures, whose cunning and deadly efficiency terrorized the region and mesmerized Europe. The fearsome aggressor quickly took on mythic status, and the beast of the Gevaudan passed into French folklore.
For me, books have always been an incredible way to escape, most especially when life is overwhelming. I read books as an escape when I was young, and now as an author, I write books to escape as well. My favorite books to escape into always include heart pounding adventure, fantastical magic, and characters I wish I could know in real life. These are the sorts of books I write; ones that give readers the chance to exist as someone else in another place, perhaps go on a wild adventure. My hope as an author is that my books allow readers to leave their own world and their own worries behind.
Told from multiple points of view, this book is a gorgeous romp through Russian folklore. While reading this book, I had the chance to live as a wolf, a young girl, and as Baba Yaga. I got to cast spells, experience powerful forest magic, save a princess, transform into animals, and defeat a terrible king. In real life, I could never experience any of those events, but I could while reading Karah Sutton’s incredible book. I especially appreciated that the story itself came together like a puzzle, pieces fitting neatly together in unexpected ways. This one is a surprise and delight at every turn.
The Girl Who Drank the Moon meets Pax in this fantastical tale of a wolf who forms an unlikely alliance with Baba Yaga to save the forest from a wicked tsar.
Since she was a pup, Zima has been taught to fear humans--especially witches--but when her family is threatened, she has no choice but to seek help from the witch Baba Yaga.
Baba Yaga never does magic for free, but it just so happens that she needs a wolf's keen nose for a secret plan she's brewing . . . Before Zima knows what's happening, the witch has cast a…
I’m fascinated with monsters. Always have been. But in a weird way. I was never a scare seeker. I sought out the unique monsters, not the traditional werewolves and vampires. I related to the creatures who were more human than the humans. The ones that struggled to fit in, but if you took the time to get to know them, they were more interesting than anyone you had ever encountered before. And I think that’s a theme I use in my stories. Overcoming your fear of things that are strange or different can open wondrous new worlds.
This is my all-time favorite book! It’s odd, quirky, and unpredictable. While not technically monsters, the wolves are terrifying…at first. You feel the helplessness of the characters, but rest assured, you cheer when they get a handle on the situation. This is a one-of-a-kind story that you’ll want to share with your entire family.
"Gaiman does here for the older picture-book set what he did for middle-grade readers with Coraline." —Kirkus (starred review)
Lucy is sure there are wolves living in the walls of their house—and, as everybody says, if the wolves come out of the walls, it's all over. Her family doesn't believe her. Then one day, the wolves come out.
But it's not all over. Instead, Lucy's battle with the wolves is only just beginning.
There are sneaking, creeping, crumpling noises coming from inside the walls...
This New York Times Best Illustrated Book combines a deliciously creepy tale, a strong heroine, and…
I love books that keep me up at night. I'm constantly trying to get into a good, healthy bedtime routine—but I am also constantly sabotaging that effort by finding books that I simply can’t put down. The feeling of being drawn so deep into a story that the hours slip away is easily one of my favorite feelings in the world. I also love books that make me wake up in the middle of the night, books that slide into my brain and plant new ideas there. As an author, I am always striving to write those books. I can think of no higher compliment than “I stayed up all night reading it.”
When I was a kid I was very excited about wolves. Not in the sense that I knew a lot about wolves—I didn’t study them and learn about them—so much as I felt certain, in my heart of hearts, that if I met a wolf, we would understand each other in a way no two creatures ever have. Feed Them Silence is a book that returned me to that sense of certainty, but with a more fundamentally realistic understanding of the nature of animals as existing outside of human understanding. I couldn’t put it down, and the hours slipped right past me.
Lee Mandelo dives into the minds of wolves in Feed Them Silence, a novella of the near future.
What does it mean to "be-in-kind" with a nonhuman animal? Or in Dr. Sean Kell-Luddon’s case, to be in-kind with one of the last remaining wild wolves? Using a neurological interface to translate her animal subject’s perception through her own mind, Sean intends to chase both her scientific curiosity and her secret, lifelong desire to experience the intimacy and freedom of wolfishness. To see the world through animal eyes; smell the forest, thick with olfactory messages; even taste the blood and viscera…
I have always loved a good sassy sidekick, human or otherwise. I started my first book, DragonBond, at the age of fifteen, and throughout the various drafts between its inception and its completion, the dragon Axen’s sass game has always been fierce. Since then, I’ve published a total of thirteen books, seven of which are in the Endonshan Chronicles series. I have a Master’s degree in psychology which I use to create well-rounded characters with unique quirks and personalities. I hope you enjoy these picks and all the snark contained within!
Wolfwalker launches straight into the action with healer Dion and her bonded wolf Hishn struggling to survive the aftermath of a beastly worlag attack. Hishn proves a stalwart companion with plenty of snark peppered in as they get caught up in a dramatic rescue taking them across the land and sea. Dion’s skills are put to the test as she tries to work out an ancient healing art that has killed everyone who’s attempted it in recent years, and her bond with Hishn proves to be key in solving the puzzle. The sweeping adventure in this novel carried me away. I felt the bond between Dion and Hishn brought a depth to the story that I greatly enjoyed.
Dion was a healer and a wolfwalker, and the unique telepathic bond that she shared with the wolf Gray Hishn sometimes seemed to amplify her sensitivity to her patients. But she never guessed how strong that bond could be, or what kind of power it could wield, until she found herself lost in the wilderness, with angry slavers at her heels and war on the horizon. Suddenly she and her fellow travelers were fighting for their lives in the snowy winter wastes, where the wolves were their only guides, the greatest secret of the ancients their only salvation...and Dion their…
