100 books like Winter World

What I admire so deeply in Ms. Robinson’s work is her capacity to tackle immense themes (from abolitionism to free will) in prose that is deliberately understated and yet stirs me deep in my soul and elicits my deep concerns for her characters, in this case, the title figure.

When I first read Robinson, I thought of B.B. King’s comment on the guitarist Johnny Winter, famous for his prolific, note-opulent solos. When asked about these tours de force, Mr. King diplomatically said, “Sometimes it’s not what you put in but what you leave out.” I know that, as primarily a poet, I can become seduced by the “lyrical” capacities of style; Robinson serves as a good check on that yen for excess and shows how presentations that might seem artless can shake the very earth.

Alice Munro is, I believe, my favorite living author (written before Alice's death on May 13, 2024). As with Marilynne Robinson, the choice of this particular collection, as opposed to others of Munro’s, verges on the arbitrary. Her capacity to render inner lives–which more often than not are quietly turbulent–seems to me matchless and she achieves her effects without straining for effect. She always seems to find the pluperfectly concise language to draw us into the small maelstroms of a character’s life. 

As one who is persistently intrigued by the way in which pasts and presents can conflict with, interfuse with, and complement a character’s view of her/himself and the ambient world, I am also much taken by Ms. Munro’s frequent recourse to achronological presentation. Her plots tend not to be that in any conventional sense of the word; things seem to happen suddenly and simply, and while these things… show more.

In both my novels I explore the cultural, almost exclusively oral history of Maine woodsmen and -women. An old man now, I knew people who worked as loggers, river drivers, and so on before the advent of power tools, electricity, or motorized hauling.

A non-writer friend told me about this book, which is concerned with the same culture across the New Brunswick border, mere miles from where my novels are set. His evocation of that arduous, raconteur-populated, dangerous world bolstered my own seat-of-the-pants knowledge and offered a wealth of specific physical detail and a sense of storytelling’s central importance in the old logging communities.

The book, then, served as a model for my own explorations of a culture whose likes we will never see again and whose preservation in words is among my own most passionate aims. 

This book contains a pair of novellas, Reading Turgenev and My House in Umbria. While William Trevor has never to my mind written so much as a clause that’s not worth reading, Reading Turgenev is my preferred fiction here. It is a triumph of Irish realism, lyrical without any straining for effect, a heartbreaking reflection on frustrated love, and a sort of elegy for people who suffer because of that frustration. I read it for the first time in one sitting, so gripped was I by the various, quiet but soul-wrenching emotional dramas occurring, especially between the main character and her male cousin. I have gone back to it twice since and will again, I’m sure.

The novella is rife with social observation, and Trevor’s ear for telling dialect, the depiction of which never makes him sound the least condescending on the one hand or sentimental on the other,… show more.

Each spread in this memorable book offers beautiful illustrations and a feast of information for curious kids. Featured animals include prairie dogs, trapdoor spiders, satin bower birds, coral, and others. The text focuses on these species as builders—of cozy homes, traps for prey, special spots to attract mates, and more. Starting with the book title on the cover (the reader can see how it was “built” with cross-hatch lines guiding letter placement!), I was totally engaged. So much information, so well shared! I fell in love with the teeny, tiny harvest mouse.

Although I am originally from the UK, I now live in Australia—home to amazing creatures, many of whom make homes in hollows. This book rams home the importance of protecting habitat because it doesn’t just highlight species like possums, owls, parrots, quolls, snakes, and goannas, but it integrates them with their environment. A Hollow is a Home is designed in a magazine-like format, with illustrations and photos, which I have found connects really well with reluctant readers. The bite-size sections are useful for school projects and, if you don’t live in Australia, this book is a fantastic way to learn about global biodiversity!

This book challenges kids to get outside and observe the wildlife in their own communities—the BEST way to connect to nature. Written as a field guide, this book is meant to be shoved in a backpack and consulted on the trail. Mary Kay Carson shows kids how to record observations in a nature journal and includes many projects with materials found around the house. Before you know it, your kids will be local wildlife experts. When kids understand nature, they care about it, and when they care, they protect it. 

Perfect for ages 6-12.

Anonymouse is a charming illustrated picture book for children that grownups will appreciate. It tells the story of a mysterious graffiti artist that creates art specifically for animals. What I love most about it, is that it illustrates the transformative power of art. As the different animals are surprised and delighted with the graffiti, their lives, how they see themselves and relate to each other are enhanced in surprising ways.

Given poet David L. Harrison’s background and interests (he holds science degrees from both Drury and Emory Universities), it should not be surprising to see his books show up on two of my lists. While he has published numerous poetry collections about animals, A Place to Start a Family stands out because of its tight focus – poems about animals that build nests, hives, and other types of homes – and the writer’s incredible talent for wordplay.

From ingenious internal rhyme to intriguing back matter to Giles Laroche’s masterful cut-paper illustrations, this work of creative nonfiction is equally at home in libraries and classrooms as it is on children’s bookshelves.

First published in 1960 this is a beautiful example of illustration in book form. From my contemporary perspective as an animal lover there is a sense that this book celebrates the tendency we have as humans to capture and own animals, with zoos, farms, and pet shops filling almost every page. To me, this book celebrates a naïve adoration and love of nature that doesn’t necessarily fit with the modern need to protect and preserve the natural habitats that humanity has spent generations pillaging. I’d like to think that this is a beautiful conversation starter about how we can best appreciate the natural world.