100 Books Like A Walk in the Park

This remains one of the most haunting novels I have ever read. I cannot shake the character of Judge Holden, a formidable man both physically and intellectually, who deploys his insidious intellect to justify acts of abject violence seemingly only for the sake of violence itself. I was mesmerized by a world where “all covenants were brittle.” This was no straight-up Western as I had expected. It was something more.

McCarthy pushed the boundaries of the classic Western by challenging the notion that good will ultimately overcome evil and the hero will save the day. There was no hero here, and the day was truly lost to forces beyond the characters’ control, hallmarks of the Southern Gothic tradition. I was hooked on this curious blend of genres!

The famous opening lines of this book are: “I came to Comala because they told me my father, a man called Pedro Páramo, lived here.” I’ve heard many Mexicans quote the opening paragraph in Spanish. Gabriel García Márquez, the Nobel Prize-winning Columbian writer, claimed he could recite the entire book forwards and backward.

Rulfo’s short novel influenced all Latin American fiction written after it. Ghostly, innovative, and mystical, the book takes place in an imaginary desert, a place of barren fields, dusty roads, and cracked earth that mirrors the desolation haunting all of its characters.

Mary Austin’s truly remarkable book is set in the Mojave and Great Basin Deserts of California. Austin, who (like me) had degrees in science and literature, developed a deep interest in both ecological issues and indigenous practices, particularly those of the Paiute and Hopi.

In this book of poetic, lyrical essays, her finely-tuned attentiveness to the land as a dynamic ecosystem and her accounts of the dialogue between humans and non-humans foreground a major trajectory in environmental literature and advocacy.

Austin has an unaffected, clear-eyed style that blends philosophy, natural history, and storytelling. First published in 1903, the book remains remarkably relevant and moving.  

William Carlos Williams’ book The Desert Music was published first in 1954 and later collected in volume two of New Directions’ The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams. It remains one of William Carlos Williams’ most tender, innovative, and emotionally exigent books.

The so-called desert music becomes, among other things, an enactment and valuing of the “inescapable and insistent” background soundscapes in our lives. Geographically, the poems of the title sequence are situated in the Chihuahua Desert, where Williams, after having suffered a stroke, travels between Juárez, Mexico, and El Paso, Texas.

From characteristically astute descriptions—for instance, of a twisted wild mustard flower (that I still see in my mind’s eye)—the poems segue into meditations on art, love, and mortality. 

This book covers the most famous canoe trip of them all: John Wesley Powell's courageous exploration through the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River. No one knew what the Grand Canyon was like; no one had ever run it, and no one even knew where it ended. What I particularly liked about the book is the way it is written, a genuine thriller, and as a reader, I am right there in the boats with Powell and his small crew, most of whom had never been in a boat before…to say nothing of the most dangerous water in America. Another big plus is that the narrative draws on the diaries of three of the members, so I am reading the complaints and hardships from several sources. 

Rather, miraculously, they built their own boats and then plunged into the "unknown." Major Powell took the lead boat, and the fact that he… show more.

Part scientific expedition, part adventure story, in 1869, the one-armed Civil War veteran descends into the Grand Canyon, the first Euro-American to do so. As the journey progresses down the Colorado and Powell and his men become more fatigued and hungry, his sense of the sublime increases.

Included are amazing wood engravings by artists such as Thomas Moran. Would be good paired with Brave the Wild River, by Melissa Sevigny, about two pioneering women botanists who made the journey in the 1930s to document the canyon’s plant species. 

Having attempted my own Grand Canyon thru-hike, on the largely trail-less north side of the Colorado River, I have walked in Fletcher’s shoes, metaphorically speaking. Mine started to come apart—with their soles delaminating—on day 1; before the end of day 40, I had to have a replacement pair brought in. Those pinched, and I lost toenails.

Beyond the minutiae of long-distance backpacking, the Welsh author of this classic of outdoor literature makes plenty of room for contemplation. At the end of a long, hot, hard, blistering day, I, too, spent many an hour perched on the rim, with a glimpse of the river far below, pondering my role in the grand scheme of things. Then it was always on to supper, which never has tasted better.

I love a writer who is willing to put his life at risk to solve a mystery. And I love history and biography. The mystery? What happened to Glen and Bessie Hyde, a young couple who vanished on their honeymoon while trying to run the length of the canyon in 1928 in a scow—a boat that looked like a water trough.

Dimock, a Grand Canyon guide and builder of wooden dories, researched this type of craft and, together with his wife, braved the rapids because he thought this would provide clues about the disappearance. Having rowed unwieldy baggage boats in the canyon myself, I emphasized with their plight, and the story of the honeymooners is one guides often tell the clients sitting in camp chairs in the after-dinner circle.  

I read this book on a 2-week river trip down the Colorado, which made the read all the more gripping. The Grand Canyon is awe-inspiring even if you’re only gazing into its beguiling depths from a vista point—moreso if you’re accompanying seasoned river runner Kenton Grua in his attempt to smash a speed record riding a storm-swollen, raging Colorado in a wooden dory.

The drama of Grua’s determination and daring kept me turning pages, but I also loved learning about the history of the Canyon, its great river, and its dedicated and colorful tribe of river runners. My copy is tattered from being stuffed in my dry bag, but the book’s imagery and energy don’t fade.

Nathaniel Farrell Brodie’s Steel on Stone takes readers into Grand Canyon National Park. Here, Brodie worked on trails for eight seasons during brutal summer heat and cold winters. Brodie explores not just the national park in its beauty and danger but also the park’s history, tales from the park, and other adventures. In the end, Steel on Stone beautifully ruminates on home and on Brodie’s love of this landscape.