Here are 80 books that Edward Abbey series fans have personally recommended once you finish the Edward Abbey series series.
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I love being outdoors and I’ve been fortunate to spend much of life under the open sky, both professionally and personally. Learning about the landscapes I’ve visited on my outdoor adventures or helped protect through my professional conservation and writing work is both fulfilling and inspiring. Skilled writers deepen my understanding of the diverse, intricate, and complicated natural world. Whether I’m reading to better understand the policies and histories that have shaped our public lands or about the adventurers who inspire me to get out there, I always find immense value and enjoyment when reading about the landscapes we share.
Aldo Leopold was a Forest Service ranger stationed in New Mexico’s Gila National Forest when he first began advocating for a new approach to managing national forests. Leopold’s visionary thinking and diligent advocacy resulted in the first-ever Wilderness Area in the U.S.—the Gila Wilderness Area, established in 1922—more than 40 years before the Wilderness Act was passed by Congress in 1964. A Sand County Almanac is Leopold’s best-known work and follows his efforts to restore a patch of cut-over farmland in Wisconsin while also articulating his vision of a land ethic where humans and nature are intertwined and care for people cannot be separated from care for the land. His beautiful writing resonated strongly with me when I first read A Sand County Almanac more than two decades ago, and his vision remains as important now as ever.
Aldo Leopold's A Sand County Almanac has enthralled generations of nature lovers and conservationists and is indeed revered by everyone seriously interested in protecting the natural world. Hailed for prose that is "full of beauty and vigor and bite" (The New York Times), it is perhaps the finest example of nature writing since Thoreau's Walden. Now this classic work is available in a completely redesigned and lavishly illustrated gift edition, featuring over one hundred beautiful full-color pictures by Michael Sewell, one of the country's leading nature photographers. Sewell, whose work has graced the pages of Audubon and Sierra magazines, walked…
I’ve always been drawn to the moments when things shift—when what once made sense stops making sense, and you have to find your way through. As a designer and leader, I’ve spent years learning to read change instead of resisting it. I’m passionate about this space because it’s where growth actually happens. These books remind me that clarity doesn’t come all at once; it arrives through attention, through relationship, and through the slow, often messy work of becoming.
I love this book because it changes the way I see the world every single time.
Powers writes with a patience that feels almost radical. I found myself slowing my breathing as I read, realizing how little I notice in the rush of daily life. I love how he blurs the line between human and nature, reminding me that we’re never outside the system—we are the system.
The Overstory humbles me, and because humility, to me, is where clarity begins.
The Overstory, winner of the 2019 Pulitzer Prize in Fiction, is a sweeping, impassioned work of activism and resistance that is also a stunning evocation of-and paean to-the natural world. From the roots to the crown and back to the seeds, Richard Powers's twelfth novel unfolds in concentric rings of interlocking fables that range from antebellum New York to the late twentieth-century Timber Wars of the Pacific Northwest and beyond. There is a world alongside ours-vast, slow, interconnected, resourceful, magnificently inventive, and almost invisible to us. This is the story of a handful of people who learn how to see…
There’s nothing like personal experience. You have to read the literature, it’s true. That’s how we’ve all met here at Shepherd. But you have to roll up your sleeves and get down to visiting, too, if you want to write about travel. I first approached the Arctic in 1991 and I return above sixty degrees north every year, although I must confess to a secret advantage; I married a Finn. We spend summers at a little cabin north of Helsinki. I know the region personally, I keep coming back, and I invite you, whenever you can, to come up and join us!
Barry Lopez was a nature writer and environmentalist.
He died on Christmas day 2020, and although we are fortunate to have his valedictory book Horizon, published when his traveling days were pretty well behind him, Arctic Dreams is the real deal, with Lopez as raconteur, but practitioner too, thoroughly in his element.
Lopez writes about exploration and the aurora, animals and the weather, ice and myth and survival and joy. He’s effortless. You’ll learn more than you knew there was to know about the high north, and the pleasure is in the learning.
If you must cut to the chase with these five books, Arctic
Dreams is the book, because Barry Lopez got things right.
'A master nature writer' (New York Times) provides the ultimate natural, social and cultural history of the Arctic landscape.
The author of Horizon's classic work explores the Arctic landscape and the hold it continues to exert on our imagination.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY ROBERT MACFARLANE
Lopez's journey across our frozen planet is a celebration of the Arctic in all its guises. A hostile landscape of ice, freezing oceans and dazzling skyscapes. Home to millions of diverse animals and people. The stage to massive migrations by land, sea and air. The setting of epic exploratory…
I’m a storyteller. I studied graphic design, animation, and film and became the title designer of Yorkshire Television’s game show 3*2*1 and directed an art-directed film and animation for British television and cinema. I was the Project Designer of the original Jorvik Viking Centre (1984). By 2008 I designed and built 25 award-winning cultural heritage centres and completed 150 international consultancies, producing and directing my exhibition documentaries. I learned how important writingwas to my work. When it came down to it, whatever technique I used in the telling, there was always the storybehind it as the way to transport the audience into a mentally immersive experience.
I love Cape Cod and I was fortunate to live on the edge of the sea between 1997-2003. Skillfully written by one of America’s greatest writers of the natural habitat, it transports you to a place. It reminds me of what it felt like to live far out in Cape Cod on the North Atlantic at its furthest reach on the east coast of the United States. Living there for several years and spending time in nature with the sea, beach, dunes, and my bicycle, I learned to love its moods, wildlife, and great sense of mystery. I totally identified with this man’s extraordinary experience and how it was years ago. A wonderfully descriptive book that helps you experience with all your senses what it’s like to live next to the sea alone.
The seventy-fifth anniversary edition of the classic book about Cape Cod, "written with simplicity, sympathy, and beauty" (New York Herald Tribune)
A chronicle of a solitary year spent on a Cape Cod beach, The Outermost House has long been recognized as a classic of American nature writing. Henry Beston had originally planned to spend just two weeks in his seaside home, but was so possessed by the mysterious beauty of his surroundings that he found he "could not go."
Instead, he sat down to try and capture in words the wonders of the magical landscape he found himself in thrall…
In the 1960s, inspired by the civil rights and antiwar movements, the women's and environmental movements, and the counterculture, I became an activist and political organizer. Eventually, I called myself a revolutionary and helped found a militant underground organization. Out of anger and youthful naiveté, and being in too much of a hurry to think clearly, I made some superficial choices and did some things I now regret. Ever since, I have been hypersensitive to the nuances and contradictions in what motivates people to become radicals and to flirt with—or embrace—violence as a legitimate action.
I loved Rosa Burger's character, sympathized with her dilemma, and didn't want to see her harmed. And because she faced agonizing moral choices, I had to question my own. Rosa's parents, anti-apartheid activists in South Africa, were imprisoned; both died in jail. Their cause was just, their sacrifices laudable. I never doubted my own opposition to apartheid, but that was easy from a distance; I can't know what I would have done if I had lived there.
How can I judge Rosa for choosing her own path, even a frivolous one, away from both politics and her troublesome country? And can I judge her if she later goes home, becomes active, and risks her parents' fate? But then I wonder, are people who replicate their parents' life choices inauthentic? Shouldn't they think for themselves?
"A riveting history of South Africa and a penetrating portrait of a courageous woman." -- The New Yorker
A must read fiction of South Africa from the winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature
This is the moving story of the unforgettable Rosa Burger, a young woman from South Africa cast in the mold of a revolutionary tradition. Rosa tries to uphold her heritage handed on by martyred parents while still carving out a sense of self. Although it is wholly of today, Burger's Daughter can be compared to those 19th century Russian classics that make a certain time and…
In my early 50s, I thru-hiked the Ice Age Trail, one of just 11 National Scenic Trails in the U.S. The experience was so rewarding—in many different ways—that I vowed to hike the other 10. To date, I’ve thru-hiked six of the 11 and am in the midst of section-hiking two more. My enthusiasm for long-distance hiking and its numerous benefits also inspired me to transform my freelance writing business to one centered around hiking, whether that’s penning fitness articles for CNN, giving talks on long-distance trails, or writing articles I hope will inspire others to lace up their hiking shoes.
It’s fun to read about someone else’s miscalculations and mishaps when they’re trying something new. That’s because it makes us feel better about the miscalculations and mishaps we’re sure to have when we attempt something novel.
I read Bill Bryson’s famous book while I was deep in the planning of my first thru-hike. His descriptions of all of the crazy situations he and his hiking buddy, Katz, found themselves in were hilarious (if exaggerated for humor’s sake). More importantly, their experiences prepared me for the fact that my journey would likely entail joys and sorrows, bravery and fear, faith and misgivings. But despite all of that, I could do it!
'Short of doing it yourself, the best way of escaping into nature is to read a book like A Walk in the Woods.' New York Times
In the company of his friend Stephen Katz (last seen in the bestselling Neither Here nor There), Bill Bryson set off to hike the Appalachian Trail, the longest continuous footpath in the world.
Ahead lay almost 2,200 miles of remote mountain wilderness filled with bears, moose, bobcats, rattlesnakes, poisonous plants, disease-bearing tics, the occasional chuckling murderer and - perhaps most alarming of all - people whose favourite pastime is discussing the relative merits of…
In my early 50s, I thru-hiked the Ice Age Trail, one of just 11 National Scenic Trails in the U.S. The experience was so rewarding—in many different ways—that I vowed to hike the other 10. To date, I’ve thru-hiked six of the 11 and am in the midst of section-hiking two more. My enthusiasm for long-distance hiking and its numerous benefits also inspired me to transform my freelance writing business to one centered around hiking, whether that’s penning fitness articles for CNN, giving talks on long-distance trails, or writing articles I hope will inspire others to lace up their hiking shoes.
An advance copy of this book appeared in my mailbox one day, courtesy of a publishing company hoping for a book review. Unfortunately for the publishers, my freelance writing gigs didn’t include book reviews. I didn’t pitch it in the trash, however, because I’d long been intrigued by the book’s subject matter—thru-hiking a long-distance trail.
This book gave me great insights into what such a feat would entail, both in preparation and on the trail, plus showcased experiences I could expect along the way, especially as a woman hiking solo.
After graduating from college, Jennifer isn't sure what she wants to do with her life. She is drawn to the Appalachian Trail, a 2175-mile footpath that stretches from Georgia to Maine. Though her friends and family think she's crazy, she sets out alone to hike the trail, hoping it will give her time to think about what she wants to do next. The next four months are the most physically and emotionally challenging of her life. She quickly discovers that thru-hiking is harder than she had imagined: coping with blisters and aching shoulders from the 30-pound pack she carries; sleeping…
As a leader of mountaineering and field science programs, I learned that Mother Earth knows a thing or two about magic. When I see the magic of nature under attack, I have the same response as when witnessing a helpless person being bullied: I want to join the fight. As a writer, my most powerful weapons are my words. And the best use of my words is in the telling of riveting stories—that both entertain and educate—in defense of the wild.
Child’s nonfiction account reminds us that nature in her most stripped-down beauty can be found in the deserts of the American West. Childs states in his subtitle, “There are two ways to die in the desert: thirst and drowning.” Thereby skillfully capturing the striking contrasts of these unpredictable, delicate, and beautiful natural environments.
Like the highest mountain peaks, deserts are environments that can be inhospitable even to the most seasoned explorers. Craig Childs, who has spent years in the deserts of the American West - as an adventurer, a river guide, and a field instructor in natural history - has developed a keen appreciation for these forbidding landscapes: their beauty, their wonder, and especially their paradoxes. His extraordinary treks through arid lands in search of water are an astonishing revelation of the natural world at its most extreme.
Upon seeing the Atlantic Ocean for the first time as a child, I was awestruck by its immensity and couldn't even begin to comprehend how deep it was and what creatures lurked beneath its waves. This initial encounter would spark a lifelong interest in the marine environment, leading to formal training and education in oceanography and a professorship where I could share my love and enthusiasm for the oceans. Though now retired, my fascination has not diminished, continuing to research and write about the oceans and, whenever possible, experience the smell, the roar, and the movement of the ocean.
I was particularly attracted to this book because it was one of the first works to provide a timely reminder of the fragility and centrality of the ocean and the life that abounds within it.
This enduring work, published over six decades ago, makes an important case for the primacy of the ocean. I was first exposed to this book at a relatively young age, and its profound influence shaped my future endeavors in ocean science.
The Sea Around Us is one of the most influential books ever written about the natural world. In it Rachel Carson tells the history of our oceans, combining scientific insight and poetic prose as only she can, to take us from the creation of the oceans, through their role in shaping life on Earth, to what the future holds. It was prophetic at the time it was written, alerting the world to a crisis in the climate, and it speaks to the fragility and centrality of the oceans and the life that abounds within them.
In the 1960s, inspired by the civil rights and antiwar movements, the women's and environmental movements, and the counterculture, I became an activist and political organizer. Eventually, I called myself a revolutionary and helped found a militant underground organization. Out of anger and youthful naiveté, and being in too much of a hurry to think clearly, I made some superficial choices and did some things I now regret. Ever since, I have been hypersensitive to the nuances and contradictions in what motivates people to become radicals and to flirt with—or embrace—violence as a legitimate action.
A badly disciplined, poorly educated gang of young Nepalis, part of a separatist guerrilla insurgency, reminded me of my militant leftist former comrades.
If the Nepali boys' self-image borrowed from action-hero films, ours took inspiration from political tracts (and movies), perhaps more literate but no less cartoonish. (A real insurgency in Nepal, in the 1980s, failed. Ours, in the U.S. in the 1960s and '70s, failed too.)
The guerrillas provide one of the novel's interconnected story lines and sympathetic sets of characters. The place is a dreamily lush Himalayan locale. But the "inheritance," the legacy of colonialism—class division, poverty, alienation—renders it grim and all of its inhabitants' dreams perpetually frustrated.
The Inheritance of Loss is Kiran Desai's extraordinary Man Booker Prize winning novel.
High in the Himalayas sits a dilapidated mansion, home to three people, each dreaming of another time.
The judge, broken by a world too messy for justice, is haunted by his past. His orphan granddaughter has fallen in love with her handsome tutor, despite their different backgrounds and ideals. The cook's heart is with his son, who is working in a New York restaurant, mingling with an underclass from all over the globe as he seeks somewhere to call home.
