Books like Gardens in the Dunes — picked by fans

I love this book for the poetic and multilingual effect in just about every line of writing. Although its explicit descriptions of bodily violence are visceral and challenging, there is something utterly compelling about the impossibility of disentangling literal from metaphorical descriptions.

I love the way the book revisits and also queers some of the themes of Maxine Hong Kingston’s A Woman Warrior (e.g., the story of immigration to the U.S., the woman warrior theme). Linguistically, it is even more complex than A Woman Warrior.

It combines American English and Chinese—sometimes breaking up the Roman letters with Chinese characters—and then subverts both English and Chinese through references to the indigenous Taiwanese language, Atayal.

I love the way this book moves between Scotland and Sudan, as told from the perspective of a devout Muslim woman working as a translator for a Scottish academic at Aberdeen University. The story itself is a work of translation and a highly original rewriting of the encounter between East and West, Islam and Christianity, English and Arabic.

All those binaries break down: the English, for example, is Scottish, and the way to pronounce Arabic turns on a difference between Arab-speaking regions so that in both speech and writing, the reader encounters subtleties of translation usually overlooked in the tiresome cliches about “West” and “East.”

I love teaching it to learn with my students the politics of translation. The book has my favorite rewriting of that famous map-pointing scene at the beginning of Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness”—Aboulela restores as Arabic names the blank spaces on the map of… show more.

This is a book that keeps on changing my life. I was bowled over the first time I read it because it completely transformed my understanding of global history. The multi-ethnic, multi-lingual, multi-national history I’d been piecing together studying Conrad’s work suddenly all made sense in a different way.

Pramoedya’s novel shows how Conrad’s novels are really all about the anti-colonial revolution. I love the book for the way it introduces all the most important historical, political, social, sexual, and philosophical questions bound up with decolonization.

It's a deceptively simple read, but cocooned within the sentimental coming-of-age story of its first-person narrator, the European-educated Minke, is an increasingly historical account of colonial oppression, anti-colonial resistance, and worldwide revolution that completely overturns European assumptions about what constitutes “this earth of mankind.” 

I love this book for the way it brings together in one place (a graveyard) a panoply of different characters from different walks of South Asian life. I find Anjum (the third gender “hijra” character who begins the narrative) most compelling. Her marginal relation to all the various mainstream cultures sets a template for how storytelling works across cultures, languages, and political perspectives.

I also love a part of the book critics found puzzling–when the novel shifts to the perspective of the former intelligence officer. It’s reminiscent of Conrad’s The Secret Agent and Under Western Eyes, Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s A Grain of Wheat, or House of Glass, the final novel in the Buru quartet of novels by Pramoedya Ananta Toer.

Like those novels, it compels a reader to undergo radical shifts in political and cultural perspectives. It’s simultaneously a political novel, a thriller, several coming-of-age novels spliced together, and… show more.

I read this book as a young teenager and as soon as I finished, I started reading again. I’ve since learned that the best thing we can do as authors is to make readers feel like they are not just reading but actually living the story, and in hindsight that’s why it made such an impression.

I could easily imagine myself sailing around the world, just like this other sailing kid who was only a few years older than me—and who had already achieved a lifelong dream. 

I like this book because it was the first book I read as a child about sailing around the world. It filled me with a sense of adventure that ignited in me a desire to do the same while also filling me with a sense of dread.

Unfortunately, I focused more on the romance of the story than on the reality. 

I found this to be such a fun read, trying to solve a geographical mystery. I knew that China was a seafaring country before Europe, but this transformed my understanding.

Drawing on his experience as a sailor, Menzies reinterprets Chinese naval documents to narrate how its "treasure ships"—much bigger than Columbus’ boats—visited Asia, Africa, Australia, and possibly North America long before 1492. Before Europeans became colonizers, the Chinese Emperor decided to stop such explorations. Before 1492, China was more prosperous and sophisticated than Europe, but the Chinese emperor’s decision left the global playing field open for Europe to exploit.

How To Make an Apple Pie and See The World is a whimsical book that starts by asserting that making apple pie is the easiest thing in the world. All you do is get the ingredients at the market then mix, bake, and serve… But what if the market is closed? In that case, adventure ensues! One travels the world to procure the ingredients—Italy, France, Sri Lanka, England, Jamaica, Vermont—and then you mix, bake, and serve.

The last spread of this wonderful picturebook features a round table and a gathering of friends eating apple pie—is there anything better?

Before I read this book, all I knew of Magellan was that he led the first expedition to circumnavigate the globe by sea and that he did it by finding the strait at the tip of South America that links the Atlantic and Pacific oceans and that still bears his name.

I imagined the Strait of Magellan as a marine superhighway, easily found if sailing down the continent’s eastern seaboard. Bergreen made me realize how painstakingly slow was the process of finding and navigating the Strait, full of dead-end channels and submerged glacial moraine.

Before the book reaches the Strait, I was struck by Bergreen’s account of the mutinous tensions between the Portuguese Magellan and Spanish officers and crew. I finished the book, marveling that anyone made it back to tell the tale. 

Another engrossing book that I’ve read several times, by a professor of English at the University of Louisville. Ridley relates the amazing true – but little known – story of Jeanne Baret, the first woman to sail around the world. She did it disguised as a man in order to accompany her lover, a botanist called Philibert Commerson on a plant collecting expedition back in the 18th century. When they got to Brazil, Baret discovered the vine bougainvillea, which the pair named after the expedition leader, Count de Bougainville (with Commerson, of course, taking all the credit) and she endured incredible hardships keeping her identity secret from the male crew during the arduous voyage. Dried specimens of her finds can still be seen today at the Jardin des Plantes in Paris.