Books like Arthur's Eyes — picked by fans

I believe stories to be our species’ instinctual tool for discovering our best selves. Sometimes those stories are about real people in the past, sometimes they’re completely imagined people in the future — sometimes we even swap out the humans for animals or aliens, or sassy anthropomorphized objects. Whatever the case, for a story to work its wonders, its details must be believable, or we reject its premise. These books help make a story believable, and, if you get the alchemy just right, those details can even help tell the story themselves.

I write nonfiction books for children and teens that focus on current environmental stories. But environmental headlines are usually gloomy and filled with foreboding, so, I prefer to focus on stories that involve individuals identifying an environmental problem and working to develop a solution – hence this list of happy conservation stories. The stories in this list – and many others – are the antidote to the headlines. They are the hope. They show human ingenuity at its most creative, most flexible, and most caring. Happy conservation stories empower kids, teens, and adults to care about the role they play in nature and unite them in action. 

When I was a child, I saw a grasshopper doing the sidestroke in the ocean and it sparked my interest in animal behavior. Though I still don’t know if all grasshoppers do the sidestroke, I’ve learned a lot about animal adaptations since then. And I’ve learned a lot about what motivates young readers from my years as a reading specialist and a classroom teacher. I’ve put that knowledge to work in my two popular books: Who Has These Feet? and Who Has This Tail?

In Vermont’s Green Mountains, wildlife, forests, ponds, and rivers were a given. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love animals, exploring wild places, and, in my case, drawing. Inspiring eye rolls from my grandfather, when he took us fishing, I was often more interested in the Lilliputian worlds along the shorelines. That led to biology, and the rapid development Vermont experienced in the ‘60s stirred a deep concern for conservation. However, graduate school plans were sidetracked when my lab drawings unexpectedly launched me into art. Along the way, hiking, camping, canoeing, cross-country and track gave me the skills and conditioning to tackle big adventures – and here I am.

Like many who carry over childish curiosity into adulthood, I'm attracted to forbidden places. I trespass. When I heard that a portion of South Africa’s coast was owned by the De Beers conglomerate and closed to the public for nearly 80 years, plunging the local communities into mysterious isolation, I became obsessed with visiting the place. Afterward, I began studying carrier pigeons—the amazing flying things that folks use to smuggle diamonds out of the mines. I wrote a book about this, Flight of the Diamond Smugglers. I'm also the author of nonfiction books about the first-ever photograph of the giant squid, working on a medical marijuana farm, and American food culture.

Dance has always been an important part of my life. I specialized in dance in college (Denison University) and graduate school (MFA, University of Michigan) and danced professionally for twelve years. As a dance educator, I’ve taught in colleges, conservatories, schools, and community centers, teaching toddlers, senior adults, and every age in between. I’ve authored two books for teachers, three picture books, articles in journals, and verses for children’s magazines. I share my passion for dance by writing and teaching, and visiting schools, libraries, and book festivals. I believe that every child should have the opportunity to participate in the arts; they are essential and transformational forces in our lives.

I grew up in a wilderness cabin in Alaska, surrounded by more wild animals than humans. For many years, I worked in the heavily male-dominated Alaskan fishing industry. I still work as a scientist in rural Alaska. I care passionately about the place, and the truthful stories written about it by people with deep roots and diverse backgrounds here.

Even though I’m from humid DC, I’ve been drawn to the desert since I first set foot there as a kid on a family road trip. Now, I’m lucky enough to live in Utah, home to some of the world’s most legendary desert landscapes. One reason I love the desert is the otherworldly scenery: uncanny arches, bizarre hoodoos, and sand dunes you could disappear into. Before your eyes, layers of geologic time unfold in epochs. The desert is a great place for contemplating the past and future—and for great adventures, with endless sandstone walls to climb, slick rock to bike, and sagebrush-lined trails to hike.

Many people are intimidated by poetry. For a big part of my life, I was too. So much of the poetry I had been exposed to was either indecipherable or irrelevant to me. Then I discovered some poems that I loved—accessible poems about subjects I related to. I started collecting poetry books, by both adult and children’s poets. Eventually, I was inspired to write poetry of my own. Today, I’m a poetry advocate, recommending my favorites to anyone who shows interest. The satisfaction I get from poetry boils down to this: When I read a good poem, I think to myself, “Wow, I didn’t know words could do that.”

I am a father of grown children, and I once believed there would always be more time. The ordinary days felt endless, until they weren't. My children grew, and the days I wished away became the ones I missed. The loss of my son made time feel different. Since then, I see people differently. We spend much of life shaping, correcting, and comparing, while each person is already becoming who they are. I am drawn to stories that honor people as they are, imperfect, different, and unrepeatable, because simply being here is enough.