The most recommended pilgrimage books

I always wanted to know what went on during the undocumented ages of our biblical forefathers’ lives. Who were the ‘other sons and daughters’ they bore? With much-inspired fantasy, Natasha Woodcraft conjures up a vivid story and develops the emotional conflicts that develop within the growing primeval family.

In the context of this unfamiliar setting, the author illuminates timeless spiritual struggles common to many of us, as we become aware of our past failures and face an uncertain future. As such, this book is deeply relevant to any serious-minded person seeking to restore broken relationships and discover purpose in life.

Now that you know what Sufism is all about, it is time to find out what lies behind the romantic façade of Sufi love poetry, ecstatic outbursts, and exotic rituals. For this purpose, I cannot recommend a better guide than this collective monograph. Its authors explain the nuts and bolts of Sufi life past and present: how Sufis interact with the world that they are supposed to despise and reject, how they feed themselves and their families, how they create and sustain their fellowships and associations, how their shrines serve as centers of charity, education, and arbitration as well as objects of pilgrimages, both collective and individual. My greatest takeaway from this informative and richly illustrated volume is Sufism’s remarkable adaptability. It thrives in the countryside, urban spaces, and cyber environment, often against great odds. 

The fiercely independent spirit of surrealists and other people trying to survive during World War 2 permeates this opulent novel with ghostly quotes and rebellious beliefs.

Laced with angels, forests, dreams, and women, this diary becomes increasingly fraught with questions of obedience, patriotism, dictatorship, and freedom.

Will your own perceptions be radicalized or soothed by this war story?

I’ve only said this once about a book: this is the sort of indie work that traditional publishers should be salivating over but would never have the courage to publish. There is such a wealth of emotion and reality in Heretic’s Guide. It’s a quiet, deliberate but fraught story of a human who doesn’t realize how much he needs the help of the godly being he befriends, or that the godly being needs him just as much. Fair warning that it’s a hefty story that’s more cerebral than action-packed, but the mystery, compelling dialogue and wondrous worldbuilding makes this one of my favorite books of all time. (Also the sequel to this duology is even better. Just saying.)

I love Tom Robbins. I love his preposterous plots. I love his audacious metaphors. I love the never-ending details of one world crashing into another.

Like an 8th C King as well as a 20th C “genius waitress,” an aging “Queen of Good Smells,” and the skyscraper-housed “LeFever Parfumarie.” Spanning 13 centuries, bouncing from Bohemia to India to Paris to Seattle to New Orleans, Jitterbug Perfume wonders if Christianity will kill Pan and whether immortality is all it’s cracked up to be.

But, you ask, what about the beets? Yes, through all this Tomfoolery, Mr. Robbins loves him some natural world, and it is through the humble yet enigmatic beet that we learn to “hold onto your divine blush, your innate rosy magic, or end brown.” I, for one, want to stay rosy, and you, for one, should read Jitterbug Perfume.

This is the definitive guide to the historical details of the Camino de Santiago, answering any question, however large or small—from the Roman stones on the path to the meaning of engravings, paintings, and stained glass windows—in the many churches and monuments along the way.

This is a truly wonderful guide, lavishly illustrated to hundreds of holy places in Britain, together with pilgrim routes on foot that connect them. This book includes ancient sacred sites, holy wells and springs, sources of rivers, cathedrals, medieval village churches and ancient trees. This is a book that literally opens new horizons and magical doorways, complete with practical details on how to get there.

I’ve read this short novel more than twenty times. It is the story of a young writer seeking a spiritual father in a famous author because his actual father is rejecting him for something he wrote. As a writer myself, I identified with the character’s deep need for paternal approval in the face of staying true to his art.

I return to Roth’s novel every couple of years because the story of a son seeking the blessings of a father, whether in his art or his life, continues to resonate with me, and with each reading I find something new in it. This novel is a minor classic and has a permanent place on my shelf.

Christmas's tale was one of the two narratives (out of dozens I read) that inspired me to make pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago, the other being Emilio Estevez's film, The Way. What I admire about Christmas is that she is unafraid of criticisms that will inevitably be directed towards a female writer who tells it all, just like it is: Her distaste for the women who accompanied her on a pilgrimage. Her decision to move on alone. Her unstinting descriptions of dismay about the physical challenges of long-distance hiking. Her distrust of men who have intentions on her person! Yet Christmas's experience is not all negative. Like other "true pilgrims," Christmas steps out of her western, worried, ego-centered self and finds a refreshing new perspective.

There are books that dazzle you with their poetic, fever-dream prose.

There are books that are structurally inventive. There are books that wow you with the mythic quality of their worldbuilding. There are books that leave you tormented by their characters. And there are books that truly have something important to say: about violence, about love, about queer identity, about belonging, and about how we write history and tell our stories.

And then there is this book, which does all of the above and then some. It had me in a vice grip from the first sentence. It reminded me of the transformative powers of fantasy as a genre, to render the familiar weird and in doing so, provoke revelation. It’s a devastating knife’s edge of a book that continues to haunt me months after reading it.