The most recommended books about Peru

In this book, we visit seven families each living on a different continent. It’s eye-opening to step into the kitchens, backyards, and schoolrooms of children from Japan to Italy to Uganda. My kids love seeing alternative approaches to familiar daily activities: what a child eats for breakfast in Peru or what kids wear to school in Iran.

This book is as fascinating for me as it is for my children. The families depicted in the book are all real people who shared their stories and photos with the author, so this is as much a work of journalism as a work of art. 

I love anything by Jaymie Patricia Heilman. Her writing is always smart, compelling, and beautiful—and this book, co-authored with its main character, is no exception. Part political history, part memoir, this book recounts the incredible life of Manuel Llamojha Mitma, a little-known Indigenous activist whose struggle for land, citizenship, and anti-racism brought him face-to-face with some of the most oppressive forces of 20th-century Latin America. More than an autobiography, this sobering and powerful collaborative history contextualizes the struggles and achievements of Indigenous people at the height of the Cold War.

I am thrilled with any historical fiction that offers another perspective on what popular culture believes to be true. In this case, a man (Darwin) was the only one to posit the theory of evolution. This book explores the life of a brilliant woman who longed to be a scientist in the 18th and 19th centuries. Despite all misogynistic odds, she followed her dream. 

Despite having read this book a decade ago, I can easily recall the scenery, the time frame, and the incredibly luscious botanical-steeped life of the main character, Alma Whittaker, who took me with her to London, Peru, Philadelphia, Tahiti, and Amsterdam. 

Because I am a freak fanatic about all things moss-related, the depth of research in this area was mind-blowing! I loved that the world of mosses became a character, and I could deeply relate to Alma in this way. I was stunned by this entire… show more.

As a fan of the Wednesday TV series, this book was right up my alley. Similar in tone and humor, VAMPIRITA also has a misanthropic anti-hero who wishes she were somewhere more dreary than she is. In this case, Vampirita has moved from Lima, Peru, where she lived with her extended vampire family, to sunny Southern California (her mother reassures her that the sun will be fine for her vampire skin thanks to the wonders of modern sunscreen).

I enjoyed all the specifics about the creepy and crawly environment she desires, but I also loved how my heart swelled at the end when her uber-cheerful new neighbors finally win her over. Written by a Peruvian American author, this book comes in both English and Spanish, which is great. Even the English version has numerous Spanish phrases that were fun for me to learn.

I've always wondered why Latin American colonial cities had so many convents, surely there were not enough nuns to populate them in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries?

Kathryn Burns not only clears up this mystery but shows us that convents were more or less the banks of their era, taking in funds in the form of nuns' entrance fees and gifts and bequests and then investing and lending them out (at interest) to local notables, often relatives of the women inside.

Convents were not simply homes for religious women, but were places where young women were formed, Spaniards, Indigenous, and Black, for the sake of the new colonial society. I would not have thought I would find the history of convents a page-turner, but I loved the scandals, the race relations, and the unexpected economic history.

The Shining Path war was the bloodiest episode in modern-Peruvian history, claiming the lives of nearly 70,000 people. While there are a number of excellent books on the Shining Path, I have never read an account of the war as captivating as this—and I doubt I ever will. Gavilán, an Indigenous peasant from the Andean region at the heart of the conflict, recounts his harrowing journey from child soldier in the guerrilla ranks to teenaged soldier in the Peruvian military. Along the way, the author invites readers to share the innermost struggles of a young man driven to survive against incredible odds. The writing is notable for its quick pace and brutal honesty. A must-read for anyone wishing to understand Peru’s political backdrop and contemporary history.

This book is a classic of Latin American women’s history, telling the story of how Andean women’s relative gender equity (what the author calls “gender parallelism,” a concept that applies to gender structures in many Latin American societies, especially the Aztecs—known as Nahuas—about whom I’ve also written) became transformed first by the Inca, then by the Spanish.

Written with feeling about forms of both complementarity and exploitation, Silverblatt shows women of the past, non-elite and noble, to have been productive, creative, and responsive to the social and economic conditions around them.

I read this one in preparation for my family’s visit to Machu Picchu, that mystical ancient ruin nestled on a Peruvian mountaintop among the cloud forests. It was the perfect prep.

Adams combines a well-researched history of Machu Picchu and its rediscovery with his own personal trek to see it all for himself. It was perfect for me—I was curious about what Machu Picchu was, and I love the laughs that come from reading self-deprecating “adventurers” who find themselves surrounded by characters and perhaps a bit too deep.

In this inspiring collection, Catholic and Protestant women from nations such as Peru, Korea, South Africa, Australia, and Iceland reveal how women are already leading in a variety of Christian denominations worldwide.

Authors explain their religious communities’ history, ministries, and understandings of gender and religion. Then each shares a religious rite created by the women of their Christian community. The diverse rituals reflect Christianity’s ability to adapt to the needs of believers, meeting them “where they are.”

Examples include the incorporation of indigenous elements in worship; use of the body through dance/artistry; and attention to gendered concerns such as domestic violence, poverty, and reproductive rights. These women’s leadership and rituals are not separate from mainstream Christianity. They are part of it.

A great idea book for people looking to incorporate gender more inclusively into worship.

Few scholars possess the ability to take complex historical situations and present them in a manner that is equal parts educational, palatable, and engaging. Brooke Larson is one of those rare talents. When I was in graduate school, I devoured Larson’s Cochabamba, and soon found myself looking to get my hands on anything authored by her. Needless to say, I was eager to read Trials of Nation Making when it was released. I was not disappointed. This wonderfully engaging history examines the role that race and ethnicity played in the framing, founding, and forming of Andean republics, where Creole elites sought to solve the so-called “Indian Problem.” But this is no top-down history. As Larson masterfully illustrates, Indigenous historical actors employed a range of strategies—from legal action to open rebellion—to demand participation in nation-making processes.