The most recommended books about Switzerland

Meakin was one of those wonderfully well-travelled Victorian ladies, the early forerunners of the travel writer genre. She visited Galicia in 1907, almost exactly one hundred years before we moved here, yet her descriptions of the Galicia which I love are instantly recognisable. The furze (gorse), still shines from the hillsides; the granite cottages are still there; as are the washing tubs, though less frequently used than in Meakin’s day. The singing cartwheels may be all but gone but the maize fields, the cherry and apple blossoms, and the Gallegans, still remain. One hundred and twenty years on, Meakin would still recognise the Switzerland of Spain.

It’s impossible to talk about action-adventure thrillers without recommending something by Graham Greene. It could have been any one of his great novels, but I’ve settled on this book as one of his shortest and most easily accessible stories.

It’s quirky without being obscure, full of atmosphere and intrigue, and wonderfully witty in its portrayal of its central characters. For sheer panache, this book is hard to beat.

Hilarious, engaging, weird, and the most fun I had all year reading, Big Swiss quickly became the actual talk of my actual town as everyone who liked to read passed it along to their friend. There's nothing specific to say to recommend this book except for that it deserves to be experienced, and as a writer I will steadfastly refuse to go back and read it to mine all its tricks, because I enjoyed the experience of reading too much to sully it with an investigation of craft.

This is a tense, sometimes distressing and compelling story, extremely original book set in Switzerland. It’s about Nobel prize winner Sarah Collier who is suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s. She’s invited to be the guest speaker at the launch of a new biotech called Neurocell. Nothing is as it seems in this fast-paced thriller.

I love that this book was the result of a dare! In 1816, eighteen-year-old Mary Shelley and three friends held a contest to see who could write the scariest story. Mary’s story—like her monster—has since taken on a life of its own and today permeates all forms of storytelling.

I find it amusing that my favorite version of the monster is the one Mel Brooks gave us in Young Frankenstein. I wonder what Mary Shelley would think if she knew how much her acceptance of a dare would change storytelling forever.

I like to revisit the original story from time to time to savor the gothic drama and flowery writing. If I’m reading it on a dark and stormy night, all the better.

I remember Geoffrey Baker’s lectures about space, movement, and light in Le Corbusier's buildings from my own student days.

His infectious enthusiasm is captured in his book, with his own clear sketches and diagrams.

Baker’s analysis has been a lasting influence on my own work, encouraging me to experience moving around and through architecture, and where this is not possible to imagine that experience from drawings and photographs.

Check out Baker’s Design Strategies in Architecture: An Approach to the Analysis of Form, too.

I am especially fond of this book because I edited it with a dear friend of mine, Prof. Mauro Baranzini, who, despite our different analytical backgrounds has always supported and encouraged my research in monetary macroeconomics.

The book lays the foundations for a fruitful collaboration among economists who share the same objective: to explain satisfactorily and comprehensively the disequilibria hampering the smooth development of our economies.

The works presented in this volume are a serious attempt to clarify the terms of the problem of inflation and unemployment.

They must be seen as contributions to building a modern theory of monetary and structural macroeconomics.

When I first met him at the University of Fribourg, Switzerland in 1969, I was immediately fascinated by Bernard Schmitt’s passion for scientific research and by his novel approach to monetary macroeconomics.

Three years later I started working with him as a teaching and research assistant and went on working as his closest collaborator until his death in 2014. The other two co-editors of this book also had the privilege to work closely with him.

Conceived as an homage to Schmitt’s legacy, this book is a collection of contributions explaining the historical origin, the analytical content, and the current relevance of Schmitt’s quantum macroeconomic analysis.

Finally, this is one for the fans, who are so important in sport. The blurb tells us, "For much of the past decade, William Skidelsky has not been able to stop thinking about Roger Federer, the greatest and most graceful player of all time. It’s a devotion that has been all-consuming." An obsession it certainly is and Skidellsky looks at it from all angles: his own emotional problems, the way the game of tennis has developed (not always for the better), and what Federer signifies as a sports and cultural icon. Why fans cared so passionately about Federer and more than about any other player tells us much about our culture of spectacle and consumption and our longing in a secular and cynical world for heroes to capture our imagination and to inspire.

Fiction can help parents and children put our situations into perspective. During lockdown, my 10-year-old and I treasured some rare moments of calm reading Judith Kerr’s book.

This classic children’s book tells the story of a Jewish family’s escape from Nazi Germany and subsequent exile in Switzerland and France. It surveys some of the most dramatic events of the 20th century with a convincing child’s-eye view and reassures us that a loving family can survive and even thrive in the very worst of times.