The most recommended books about isolation

This is a unique entry in that the cursed place is a framing device, for this collection of mostly disturbing tales. For his first-ever collection of short stories, Palahniuk brings his wretched cast of characters to a haunted house, where each in turn offers his or her own demented tale. They don’t all work, but a number of the stories really stick with you, and this spooky old house at the center of it ratchets the intensity up another level—it’s not a static situation they are in, there, so the plot progresses to its own warped conclusion on this front as well. 

Like the title suggests, this anthology is for those on the outside. It is a weird blend of strange works from well-known authors in the industry. I tend to like anthologies such as this because it creates work somewhat out of the norm for the writers. The standout story here is from Tanith Lee. I do not recommend it purely for the story as I do not consider it the best of this bunch. What did strike me was the prose. From her first words the reader knows they are in the hands of a master. It is simply impossible to stop reading once one starts because of the incredible descriptions and tone of the story. It is technically an excerpt from one of her novels but it does wow with the beauty of the words on the page. If someone believes horror cannot be literary they have not read… show more.

Misguided do-gooder Eliza Peabody lives in wealthy South London. In her middle age, Eliza is not just dedicated to volunteering in charities but also to volunteering her unsolicited advice to her neighbours in notes through their letterboxes. The book is consistently reviewed as both hilarious and poignant, but my memory of it above all includes one scene that was neither of those things. Instead, it seared me. The reveal crept up on cats’ paws, and I wasn’t at all prepared, which made the moment true for me, and unforgettable. If I read it when it came out in 1992, I would have been 26 years old. I must read it again now, at 56. No doubt I’ll remember the funny bits this time.

Y takes place on 20th-century Earth, but with a twist: all men have been exterminated by a mysterious virus except one. You’d think setting the story on Earth in the current time period would be easy, but I think that kind of setting is even harder because we know what that world should feel like and if things deviate, we’ll be quick to notice. And yet, although the premise of Y has not happened on Earth, the worldbuilding makes it plausible that it could. Y dives into the past and jumps into the future, it travels from one end of the U.S. to the other, it tangles international conspiracies with a lovelorn hero and a monkey that won’t stop flinging its poop—and you accept it because the foundation—the worldbuilding—is secure.

This poignant story captured me: Henry Preston Standish, a single traveler on a cruise ship between Honolulu and Panama, unnoticed by anybody, slips on wet planks and falls into the Pacific Ocean. As his steamboat is further and further gliding away, Standish works on staying afloat. He is convinced he will be missed and the boat will return to rescue him. 

The author moves back and forth between Standish's thoughts about his life and his impending rescue and the people on board who notice his absence without suspecting any emergency. I was very moved following how Standish's hopes fade and how he comes to grips with remaining and dying alone in the middle of the ocean, as its author did many years later in the middle of Manhattan.

Isla Morley's harrowing story is both captivating and surprising.

Her writing is luminous; a key reason why I loved this novel. I would often stop to reread a sentence or a paragraph. It is one of those books you can't put down, while simultaneously not wanting it to end. A gift is that the characters stayed with me long after I did finish.

The Last Blue is inspired by the real life Blue People of Kentucky whom I had not heard of before. I was fascinated to learn this history, although pained that some of human nature's worst attributes, including racism, superstition, and prejudice, were inflicted on Jubilee, the story's protagonist, and her family. But, there is redemption and there is love.

Kristina Gocheva-Newberry is a natural storyteller. Her narrators tend toward disarming authenticity. They tell it like it is, rather than censoring themselves out of politeness—a habit several of her characters see as problematic and uniquely American. What Isn’t Remembered features a plethora of characters of Russian and Armenian descent, both in the US and in Russia, and depicts their lives as citizens, immigrants, and the children of immigrants. Cultural tensions wind through the book and are tempered by startling moments of tenderness. At heart, the book is about messy relationships and the invisible histories that press and bind. What Isn’t Remembered is the perfect book to sink into on a quiet, rainy day. 

There is no book that better captures the unique human culture present at modern Antarctic research stations than the late Nicholas Johnson’s Big Dead Place, a frank, funny as hell, and at times savage chronicle of a year working support at McMurdo Station. Like my sister, who winter-overed at South Pole Station, Johnson worked in the galley, but it was the bureaucratic nonsense, present even at the farthest reaches of human civilization, that caught his incomparable eye for absurdity.

As I wrote South Pole Station, Johnson’s wry, searingly intelligent voice was always in my mind. To me, he is the epitome of the non-scientist drawn to the world’s most unforgiving workplace: a wry, brilliant journeyman whose humor had a razor-sharp edge but who cared deeply for the work he did and the people with whom he did it. This is my favorite book about Antarctica.

I’m fascinated by novels that treat famous real events from an insider perspective.

In this case, it’s the events following the Symbionese Liberation Army’s kidnapping of Patty Hearst in 1974. Fugitive SLA members, including a character based on Hearst, are sheltered by a former radical, Jenny Shimada (based on Wendy Yoshimura), who is also wanted by the FBI in connection with the bombing of draft offices.

Jenny is a sort of house mother to the volatile fugitives, who hope to write a book while in hiding to raise money for their cause, but inevitably she is drawn into their latest dangerous scheme. Filled with brilliant character studies, the novel astutely shows connections between the tortured personalities of individuals and the public acts they commit which end up shaping our culture. 

I’ve never read a book as quickly as I read this one. Our eponymous lead character is quirky and odd, but the story is written with so much empathy, depth, and humor that I was rooting for her from the start.

I loved how the relationship between Eleanor and Raymond plays out and avoids the predictable ‘boy meets girl’ ending. It doesn’t surprise me that the book is ‘in development’ as a movie, as the story plays out like a film when you read it. Definitely read this one first before you see the film! (It probably won’t take long as I couldn’t put this book down.)