The most recommended books set in the midwest

The Orphan Train is a novel about forgotten and neglected children left to fend for themselves in an antiquated welfare program. The story weaves memories of an old woman with the naiveté of a present-day teenager teaching the reader that everything is not as it appears.

Christina Baker Kline breathes life into a horrible moment of American history making us rip the bandage off, look at our past and see the unexpected silver lining.

The Show Girl is a delicious and entertaining exploration of the life of a 1920s Ziegfield girl with authentic period details and Harrison’s trademark ability to plunge the reader deep into the experiences of her characters. I loved being along for the ride as Olive navigated her relationships and friendships, followed her dreams, and pursued the glamorous life—with all its attendant ups and downs—of a show girl. The Show Girl is a fast-paced and engaging read that will leave readers giving a standing ovation to Olive and to all women who choose to live life on their own terms.

A mix of coming of age in the first half of the twentieth century, and Bradbury’s peculiar brand of very earthly oddness and sci-fi strangeness, Dandelion Wine is full of all sorts of magic. It reminds you of what it is to be a small human again, when everything seems possible, and aliens and monsters are as likely (and as important) as long summer days spent outside, barefoot and sunburnt and a little feral. Even when we don’t recognise the details of the childhood described, we remember the feeling, and it reawakens a sense of wonder that’s incredibly precious.

Jim Northrup, Fond du lac Ojibwe author, was my writing mentor from the time I met him in 1991 until he passed away in 2015. He would always ask, “What are you writing today?” That was his way of encouraging me to keep writing. His crime novel, Dirty Copper is the story of Luke Warmwater, who returns to the Reservation after serving in Vietnam. Luke becomes a deputy sheriff on the Rez and sees firsthand the war raging below the appearance of peace.

I would listen to Jim talk about his writing and the progress he was making on his story as he wrote it. Listening to him encouraged me to keep going with my writing. Jim’s way of storytelling through the written word is something I have tried to emulate.

Cynthia Ozick's 1983 novel is set in a Midwestern academy founded by a Jewish refugee from Nazi-occupied France who wants to offer students a “dual curriculum” combining traditional Jewish religious instruction with the secular liberal arts. Eventually, this principal comes into conflict with a brilliant philosopher who insists that he not judge her under-achieving daughter too quickly when she becomes a student at the school. Ozick’s richly descriptive prose recreates the horrors of 1940s Europe and the placidity of the midcentury American Midwest as she surveys the dangers of American assimilation and anti-intellectualism with all the rigor we'd expect of a novelist who doubles as one of our best essayists. As a teacher myself, I recognize the anxieties of pedagogy Ozick portrays—how do we know when and if we’re doing justice to our students?—and I would recommend it to anyone who teaches at any level. 

Toews is a Canadian writer, not Midwestern, but I’m from Michigan and we tend to lump Canada in with us whenever possible. My list, my rules. The book takes place in the adorable town of Algren with heroine Knute and her daughter Summer Feelin’ as well as a cast of other quirky lovable small-town characters. Toews has the ability to write sweet and funny small-town stories without pandering to stereotypical character tropes. Whenever I think of this book, I think of the peaceful feeling it gave me one summer, reading on my porch steps or leaned over my grocery cart in line for checkout, whenever I had two free minutes to read. Toews later fiction is quite a bit darker and she does that well too, but I always love to sink into her earlier works when I want something feel-good.

This book has always been one of my all-time favorites because I love the clarity of Lewis’ writing and it deals with the real-world challenges faced by scientists in general and medical doctors in particular. The moral, financial, and romantic dilemmas faced by Martin Arrowsmith constantly keep my teeth on edge as I read this book, never leaving me starved for excitement or something unexpected at every turn. I love how Martin personally transforms throughout the novel and deals in various ways with the emotional challenges of different types of romantic relationships as he faces the obstacles within his career that ultimately shape his internal moral fiber. 

Unlike the novels of warfare and suffering, The Moonflower Vine is an intimate portrait of family life, set in 1920s Missouri. It was a bestseller when it was first published in the early 1960s, but has since suffered neglect. But it richly rewards the reader with its heartfelt depiction of three sisters and their aging parents, whose passions, aspirations, and failures are portrayed with complex sensitivity. I don’t think historical novels have to focus on historical events – capturing the spirit of an era is just as important. And this novel took me into rural life of a hundred years ago with great generosity.

A multigenerational sprawling Midwest masterpiece, Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club is one of those rare books that will make you laugh and cry, sometimes even on the same page, sometimes even in the same sentence.

It explores family dynamics, grief (in all its applications), love (romantic, familial, convenient, complicated), estrangement, and supper clubs in all their old-fashioned antlered glory. With Stradal’s trademark warmth and imitable prose, Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club is ripe with heartbreaking and at times, humorous reminders that life rarely goes as planned, and that’s exactly the point: you carry on in spite of it.

The perfect read if you’ve ever considered throwing in the towel. Wise, big-hearted, and deeply human.

Sometimes it takes dust, drought, and desperation for us to realize what we’re capable of changing. Landscape has the power to alter us and for Rachel it both whittles away and fortifies. The wrath of nature is a tangible presence in her story, though we come to realize the hostile land and searing sky pale in comparison to the silent destruction wrought by the person in whom she has placed her life’s trust. Weisgarber’s ability to slow time down to the painful passing of seconds draws me in every time. 

This story was interesting in the way that the author had two main characters who were twins with widely different roles. With one taking the role of the chosen one and the other being in a place to save her, this was an intense rollercoaster ride from beginning to end. Not to mention the worldbuilding, traveling through lightning, was a very unique idea that amped up the suspense. 

Powwow's Coming is a simple, colorful, and “full of dancing descriptions” that show the fun and importance of powwow celebrations. Linda is part Native and part teacher and fully a creative author and illustrator. She explains in rhyming narrative the reasons for the gathering of many tribal members at a powwow to share dancing, chanting, and drumming. Powwow’s Coming is a perfect read aloud for younger “listeners.” Boyden has included a teachers’ resource page so the book can easily be incorporated into different curriculums.

I’m an academic, and it is always fun to read a novel that skewers our eccentricities and egotism (there, I admitted it).

What’s great about Moo is that it gives us an academic satire in an unexpected setting—not an eastern liberal arts college but a state university in a Midwestern state that couldn’t possibly be Iowa (or could it?). Leading characters teach botany and animal husbandry. One of them is a very large pig—a real pig, not a metaphorical one. And the book is very, very funny.

I love the very idea of a whole book devoted to poetic writing about the weather.

Weather in the Midwest tends to be particularly dramatic, and to have a particularly marked influence on daily life. Susan Allen Toth is a wonderful writer; with humor and insight, she leads the reader on a thought-provoking exploration of how weather affects our lives, our memories, and even our character. 

Set before, during, and after the U.S. – Dakota War of 1862, The Night Birds by Thomas Maltman uses fiction to effectively convey the trauma of one of Minnesota’s most tragic events. Using well-developed, relatable characters, Maltman works hard to intertwine people and places in a way that is emotionally moving. Maltman includes numerous historic facts along with culturally relevant details that work to make the novel incredibly interesting, while making the characters and their journeys very compelling. Finally, he manages to capture the pain and suffering of Dakota and white characters alike. It’s a slow, but highly rewarding read. 

Ian Frazier’s exploration of his own family’s history takes the reader on a fascinating deep (and broad) dive into American history.

What begins as a chance discovery of letters written between his parents as a young couple leads him inexorably back into the far-reaching branches of his family tree, and a unique perspective on American life from the eighteenth century to the twentieth.

David McCullough called this book a ”remarkable history of an unremarkable family.” The author’s keen curiosity, masterful storytelling, and elegant prose kept me spellbound. I read this book when it first came out, and it was one of those books that for a while I couldn’t stop telling everyone to read.

I’ve never forgotten it, and now I think I’m about to read it again.

The author is a sociologist who rode the rails, on and off, alongside homeless youth in the early 1930s. He did not disguise himself or pretend to be “one of them.” Instead, he chronicled their stories in oral histories that are intimate and thorough depictions of how young men and women existed on the road, what was important to them, what they yearned for, how they protected themselves, and each other. As a sociologist and chronicler of groups within society, the author remained true to his obligations as an academic not to glorify, white-wash, or romanticize what he saw. As a result, the experiential dimensions of this book are incredibly robust and meaningful.

As a boy, Baxter stood at the window of his mid-western home and looked out at the empty street. He went on to fill that street with stories. In Wonderlands he talks about how those stories were made in terms of craft—he writes vividly about requests, lists, dreams, ghosts—and the events in his own life that shaped his fiction, including a long period of failure. An deeply companionable book.  

I was swept away by this story. The magic and mystery were entrancing.

Pippin and her twin brother, Grey, live on the Outer Banks island of Devil’s Cove. Pippin has a rare gift.

She is a bibliomancer, meaning she can “read” books. Can you imagine? I’d love to have that ability.

In this story, Pippin needs to break the curse that has haunted her family for two thousand years. The story is original and deftly crafted with a wonderful blend of books and magic. 

I don’t know how I missed this extraordinary debut novel when it was first published back in 1994, but I count myself very lucky to have finally found my way to it.  

One reviewer put it this way: “Miraculous. . . . reads like life itself.”  Another described it as “quietly heartbreaking, laugh-out-loud funny, and always, absolutely convincing.”

Add to that characters who, however egregious their flaws, are rendered honestly and sympathetically, and you have a novel that is as rich and deeply heart felt as any I’ve ever read.