The best books exploring how place shapes community

Elizabeth Strout is a master of character, and this cycle of linked stories, which takes place in the coastal town of Crosby, Maine, is no exception; following the eponymous Olive over several years, she appears as a major character in some stories, and a minor one in others.

I grew up in a small town beside the ocean, and Strout’s descriptive powers transported me to the salinated air and buoy-knocked waters of my youth.

But it’s her observations about human nature, filtered through the town’s tight-knit community, that makes the book so powerful. She examines questions that haunt us all: How do we take care of those around us—especially those who don’t want our help? What does it mean to be a caring partner, a good friend? How do we find grace and joy in a world where no one goes untouched by tragedy? 

This is a book about many things—guilt, artmaking, and love among them—but when I think of it, I think of a novel that depicts the complexities of making and sustaining a life more deftly than anything else I’ve read. How things like cruelty and beauty, innocence and evil, truth and lies all coexist. How we move forward despite this uneasy balance.

The novel follows Fee, a boy who grows up in Maine and sings in an all-boys choir. The choir director turns out to be an abuser, and his actions haunt Fee and the other boys in the choir into adulthood.

On a prose level alone, Chee’s writing is unparalleled, his sentences sharp enough to cut glass. I don’t see how anyone could read this book and come away unchanged. 

Las Penas, New Mexico, is the setting for this moving novel that follows a year in the lives of the Padilla family. Valdez Quade creates characters with dazzling depth, and you’ll root for the Padillas as they stumble through twelve months, where everything they know is upended and destabilized.

The way this book portrays community reminds me of a favorite Sally Rooney quote from Normal People: “No one can be independent of other people completely, so why not give up the attempt, she thought, go running in the other direction, depend on people for everything, allow them to depend on you, why not.”

This book marries two excellent elements: the campus novel and the 90s. Set on Harvard’s campus in 1995, this is an especially satisfying read for those of us who remember the rise of email, a mode of communication explored at length in the book.

Batuman captures the awkwardness of coming-of-age so precisely that you’ll either be compelled to look at your old Facebook photos or delete them entirely. Her deft depiction of growing up aside, this is also a beautiful exploration of finding intellectual and artistic community. 

I first fell in love with Emily Ruskovich’s short fiction, and this novel, which takes place near a fictionalized version of Mt. Hoodoo, captures the same uncanniness of the ordinary that first drew me to her work.

She captures the landscape’s strange darkness and stark beauty in such detail that I actually dreamt about it. And if you’re obsessed with memory like I am, you’ll be drawn to the way she exposes the shakiness of what we remember as “truth.”