The best books for people who still believe in magic – or who wish they did

This book shifted the paradigm of my life.

I discovered it and its author by listening to David Oakes’ nature podcast Trees A Crowd, which I devoured religiously every day while living in Alaska during the second year of the pandemic. I only intended it as research, but this book changed the composition of my soul. 

It’s a fascinating and genuinely captivating exploration of one of the most evolved lifeforms on Earth. Their survival is essential to our own, and if we won’t learn from them, we’ll fall beside them. But more likely, they’ll outlast us!

First of all, how could anyone not love a book with an author’s name like that?

This book was on display mere inches from me while I was signing books at an exceptionally enchanting indie bookstore called Sudden Fiction in Castle Rock, Colorado. I couldn’t wait for the signing to be over so I could get a copy for myself. And it did not disappoint, the contents being as beguiling as the cover. 

Sheldrake describes not only the incredible and seemingly irrepressible capacity fungi have for survival and thrival (yep, I made that word up), but also encourages us to practice the same spells. I may have to become a mycologist in my next iteration – it’s good to remake oneself every few months, I think.

Full disclosure: I still haven’t seen the National Geographic special, but I’ll go down arguing the book is better (much as I do love David Attenborough films). This book is something of a tome, but it’s so engagingly written that it had me up well past my bedtime night after night. 

I’ve always been intrigued by our oceans – one of my first great childhood heroes was Jacques Cousteau – but the true charm of this book is its boundless hope. It would be easy to fall into despair and catastrophization writing a book that deals so intimately with climate change, but instead, there is example after example of people who live as full participants in the cycle of life, not observers of it, whose footsteps beat a path to a world where we all flourish together.

As an inveterate and wildly ignorant amateur birdwatcher, I couldn’t resist giving this book a try.

I found it at my local library. The very title seemed to mirror much of my own poetry, an unexpected synchronicity that called my name, and its contents exceeded expectations. 

This book is deeply personal without being self-involved. Although the author possesses a depth of knowledge about birds I will never approach, his humor and self-deprecation make the book as accessible as it is mind-blowing. Like a poet, Knapp offers us vignettes whose tiny glimpses manage to mirror the whole universe.

Who hasn’t looked at a raven riding columns of air and ached for that perfect freedom of flight? Though we’ll never know the skies as they do, we can still learn so much from our feathered neighbors – about the world, about ourselves, and about what sort of magic is real.

This book was another library find I had to immediately purchase as soon as I finished reading it.

Rundell’s descriptions of the creatures she chooses to feature are each an enchantment of their own. I confess a particular attachment to the Golden Mole, a bioluminescent mammal who lives completely underground in Africa, and whom I had no idea existed prior to her introduction. 

This book, like many of the others, teeters on a precipice between despair and horror but tightropes its way across, fueled by a beautiful hope. I expected a book about spectacular animals on the brink of extinction to be a grim read, but I found the opposite to be true. 

Brimming with the fierce sort of optimism that moves mountains, this book charmed, delighted, enchanted, and inspired me. I wish I’d had it to read to my children when they were younger and still at my mercy.