83 Books Like Chiefs

Kaya Clark is the wild child I longed to be growing up. Although her family story is tragic and well-explored, how she inhabits her world of nature and allows it to inhabit her is stunning. Once again, she is a young woman who is an outcast who manages to rise above her limitations and those placed on her by society. 

Beyond the incredible storytelling and intriguing plot lines, I was mesmerized by the natural world of the North Carolina marshes, being as much a main character as Kaya herself. The intricate details of the lushness and cruelty of the natural world were incredible. In looking back at my favorite novels, one of the commonalities is the writing’s ability to come alive in my head and to take up a permanent space as much as my own lived memories. This novel is one of those.

I related to Atticus Finch.

He was the dad everyone wished they had. He was also a lot like my old high school football coach. There is authentic love and warmth when he and Scout are together. And there is honesty and spine when Atticus is in the courtroom, defending those who have been wrongly accused.

This beloved book has inspired generations of readers around the world. It is a morality tale about a rough and imperfect country, written in a way that has inspired idealists to stay the course in our fight for justice. We may be flawed, but we can still be strong.

I love this nonfiction book because it reveals much about the history of Jackson County, Georgia, that I did not know when Floyd Hoard moved there in the 1950s.

Mike Buffington gives details of the corruption in the county, which was much deeper than Hoard knew when he continued making efforts to clean out the bootlegging and car theft rings in the area. Those criminal rings would later become known as the Georgia Dixie Mafia, the group that would order and carry out Hoard’s car bombing death in 1967.

I love the nonfiction book because Phil Hudgins tells the story of Billy Sunday Birt, who killed more than fifty people in the 1970s in Georgia before his arrest. I was intrigued by the honesty of Birt’s widow as she told of the fear she lived with as the true character of her husband unfolded and why she stayed with him because of the threats of what would happen if she tried to leave. I was also interested in how she tried to keep her faith in God as she learned more and more about the killings.

I love the book because Hudgins shows Birt's gradual dehumanization until a spiritual awakening in prison brings him to a recognition of the pain he has caused others. However, the awakening does not bring about the happy ending people might expect of such a story. 

I am always grateful when a book introduces me to a place completely unknown to me. Janisse Ray’s gorgeous memoir does exactly that: southern Georgia's disappearing longleaf pine forests. Her introduction to this landscape is a gift to readers, who will yearn, as she does, for its regeneration after a century of exploitation.

Raised in a junkyard along a busy highway, this writer learned the land’s history through the stories of her parents and others; she learned the intricate ecology of the pines and their companion flora and fauna, almost lost to industry and greed. Lyrical and beautifully written, Ray’s evocations of complex plant communities linger in the mind long after you’ve finished the book.

Erskine Caldwell is deeply underrated; for my money, he’s one of the best southern gothic writers in the genre. Perhaps it’s down to the risque nature of his books and characters, which were especially provocative (and in some cases, downright despicable) for the time period. However, beyond the depravity there is a real beating heart in his books that perfectly capture the desperation and grief of depression-era Georgia. 

The mystery in this story is about the murder that happened years ago and three strangers who are drawn together in a small Georgia town. Memories come racing back to the residents in town when the woman who served prison time for the murder returns. The town is trying to survive and has lots of challenges.

Cody, the pet of Emily’s parents, is a link to them and a comfort to her. This is also the first story in a series. It makes you question everything and everyone in the small town. 

A Thousand Naked Strangers is the definitive book about life on an ambulance. I’ve never read another book about this or any other topic for that matter, which made me think, “Yes! Exactly, you get me!” When anyone asks me—and they never do—what is it really like working on an ambulance? this is the book I point to.

Not only is A Thousand Naked Strangers full of great stories from the author’s time on the bus, but Kevin Hazzard, is also a journalist and it shows. This book is fast-paced, funny, and authentic.

Brian is a fellow Georgia author and a friend. I was gobsmacked by his first novel, Bull Mountain, so when he asked if I would blurb the sequel, Like Lions, I didn’t hesitate a nanosecond.

There are evildoings galore: violent criminals, drug-running, revenge killings, and a hunt for buried millions. But our hero Sheriff Clayton Burroughs is a damaged soul, dependent on alcohol and painkillers, so three powerful female characters step up to the plate.

I loved Clayton’s wife Kate, fiercely loyal and protective of her family. Vanessa is a shadowy outsider, both deadly and compassionate. And Twyla Viner is the aging matriarch of another criminal family that has a bone or two to pick with Clayton. The lions in this book are the women, and they rule this jungle.

This history of Providence Canyon in southwestern Georgia explores a seemingly ironic state park: one dedicated to preserving a network of massive erosion gullies formed by poor cotton farming. But Providence Canyon is so much more than ironic, as this book beautifully illustrates. Yes, improvident farming harmed the land—as was the case across much of the South—but the spectacular gullies of Stewart County came from the intersection of human abuse and terrifyingly fragile soil structures. And they are somehow sublimely beautiful, despite their grim past. The park is perhaps the perfect place to witness the way in which human and natural actions are always tied together. Come for the gullies, stay for the lessons!