The most recommended books about the Rocky Mountains

Many years ago, when I first moved to a small cabin in the Rocky Mountains, a friend gave me a copy of A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains and inscribed it to "one of the bravest mountain ladies I know."

I relished the book and learned a lot about the history of my new home through the eyes of an English woman who, in 1873, traveled alone and on horseback, to places I now know and love. Instead of fading into the past, Isabella Bird pulled herself out of the shadows. I even named my cat after her. 

Spinsters Abroad set out to celebrate Victorian women traveller such as Mary Kingsley, Amelia Edwards, and Isabella Bird. However, Birkett quickly discovered that these women were not straightforward role models. Yes, they travelled Africa, the Middle East, and Asia, braving hardship, and making all kinds of discoveries along the way. But it turns out, they managed that because their whiteness trumped their gender. Spinsters Abroad reveals the complexity of these women’s travels, and their lives and worlds. It reflects on their motivations for travel, as well as how Victorians conceived gender and race. The book is also jam-packed with anecdotes. Here is Edwards complaining about flies interrupting her watercolour painting of Egyptian ruins: ‘Nothing disagrees with them; nothing poisons them - not even olive-green’.

I love all of the books in Mizushima’s Timber Creek K-9 Mystery series and though you can start anywhere, this book was my introduction to Mattie Cobb and her dog, Robo.

The partnership between these two characters is wonderful as is the scene-setting, ancillary characters, and—of course—the actual mystery!

Mattie’s the sort of person I would enjoy spending time with in real life—along with Robo.

Rising from the Plains is one of three geological and historical expeditions by John McPhee which together won the Pulitzer Prize as Annals of the Former World. The book intertwines a narrative of how the Rocky Mountains were formed with the story of its narrator, David Love, a Wyoming geologist who deciphered the geology and whose own family’s history is a fascinating snapshot of early-pioneering days in the West.

You Don’t Have to Die in the End is just the sort of book I’d hand to a student who struggled with finding anything relatable. Eugenia Grimm could be down to her last chance when she is sent to Reason’s Wait, a facility for troubled teens. Because of her troubled past, she has programmed herself to lock horns with any adult who tries to cross—or help—her. I cringed during her tempestuous exchanges with social workers, staff, and fellow “inmates”—hoping one of them would find a way to save this bitter, angry girl from herself. Spoiler alert: As Daher’s title suggests, Eugenia’s train wreck of a life is salvaged in the end.

In a tale of Scottish immigrants who homestead Montana ranches in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains, Dancing at the Rascal Fair features a cast of characters who cooperate and sometimes clash as they build lives in a harsh new country. Human relationships prove as challenging as the land, the livestock, and the weather. Doig, like few authors who write about the West, presents a faithful picture of ranch life.   

In another Wild West setting twist, an advice dispensing Rabbi is the vehicle for upcycling traditional folk tales. And it is funny: whether the Rabbi is busting through saloon doors to beat someone to the punchline of an Abe Lincoln joke or using his wits to outsmart bandits or simply helping out with a frontier domestic issue, I find myself literally laughing out loud. The illustrations are charmingly folky, and there is a glossary for the story sources which often turn out to be tales that are many hundreds of years old.

A fascinating and compelling history of the Mann Gulch Fire that killed several firefighters in Montana in the late 1940s, coupled with the author’s own journey to heal humself.

MacLean was a beloved University of Chicago Shakespeare professor, and a former Montana firefighter, who only began writing after he retired. His first book was an instant classic, A River Runs Through It, playing with the border between nonficiton and ficiton, love and anger. Young Men and Fire picks up where that book left off. You have to read to the final line to learn exactly what the book is about 

I love the complex, nuanced way in which this novel explores the long-range consequences of a single tragedy: in the case of this book, the death of a young man who was on the edge of becoming a father. As we enter the perspectives of his sister, the mother of his child, and (in later years) his child, we learn how lives can be rebuilt in the aftermath of a loss, a time when survivors can feel hopelessly broken. We also learn how new—and sometimes unexpected—bonds can be formed. In other words, we see that tragedies can leave more than darkness in their wake. I took hope from this book, and it provided a refreshing perspective, especially in these troubling times.

A crowded troop train is heading across a desolate stretch of tracks through the Rocky Mountains. It’s the dead of winter 1873 and you can almost feel the chill seeping into the railcars. The troops are headed to Fort Humboldt to relieve the cholera-stricken garrison. In addition to the troops, the train’s passengers include a powerful governor, the daughter of the fort’s commander, and a US marshal escorting an outlaw prisoner. But people and their stories aren’t what they seem. A passenger is murdered. Time is running out and a lot of people are going to wind up dead before the end of the story. A masterful thriller by MacLean.