Books like Heaven's Coast — picked by fans

Again and again, Terry Tempest Williams shows us we can live in a disaster zone, literal and emotional, and survive.

Refuge, her fourth major book, testifies to the calamities set in motion by the atomic testing that occurred in the Nevada desert during the 1950’s. The book weaves the story of her mother and grandmother’s resultant deaths from cancer and the flooding of the Great Salt Lake that has endangered native bird species.

The loss she records is human and non-human, bringing home a truth we have yet to learn: that sullying the Great Mother, our earth, threatens our own bodies and those of future generations. If Refuge is a record of lamentations, it is also a missive for restoration and regeneration and a document of hope.

I didn’t know if I could recommend a play here, but reading this one is how I first experienced it because it premiered in London. I hadn’t seen it yet, so I read its two monumental parts, “Millennium Approaches” and “Perestroika,” on a typewritten marked-up rehearsal script someone had lent me.

Quite simply, Tony Kushner wrote THE play for my generation, a generation that lost probably half of itself to an awful plague most people, especially the government, ignored until it was too late. When my lover Jeffrey died, I went to the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park and wept because Tony had given it to me in his play, a monument for the AIDS generation.

Finally seeing it on Broadway, with Jeffrey, as he was dying, was like having my DNA scratched and resurfaced into something other than who I was before it. It was shape-shifting, soul-stirring, and salve… show more.

Marie’s poems are separated into three sections: childhood (which included an alcoholic and abusive father), the illness and death of her brother Johnny from AIDS, and life beyond his death, including her relationship with James Shannon, a tree surgeon and a fisherman. They were like lifelines to me after Jeffrey died.

I memorized the title poem and said it repeatedly in my head like a litany. These poems are clearly spoken; life boiled down to a stock with the healing power of fresh air and cool water. No other book of poems has ever helped me so much through a catastrophic time, and I ended up setting many of these poems to music.

Those who set out to write their memoirs often have a hard time acknowledging their inner life as an active player in our stories. Enter Black Elk, whose narrative shows the life-long ramifications of a single vision.

Often, the impact of spiritual experiences is far more significant than the experiences themselves. Black Elk’s profound trust in his dream and commitment to live it out are inspiring. I also love how Black Elk occasionally disregards his audience to directly address the Grandfathers. Isn’t it lovely that memoirs can become a form of prayer?!

One morning, Christopher’s fiancé, Brigid, kissed him goodbye and went into the snowy morning of Montpellier, Vermont, to drive to work. She was sidewinded by a speeding car and killed.

Christopher wrote a devastating memoir of shock and coming to terms with such a sudden loss. Brigid was also a beautiful writer, and part of his healing and writing this book involved folding her highly evocative journals into his book. It felt like a resurrection.

Ironically, Christopher and Brigid lived in a house that Mark Doty either rented or sold. As I read this astonishing book, I felt like I was living there with them, roiling in shock and pain.

Writers often ask, “What if I don’t know what really happened?” Memory is so slippery that many writers trip up with self-doubt. Here’s when I turn to Maxine Hong Kingston. Unable to hunt down the facts, Kingston instead revels in speculation: Maybe this is what happened, or maybe this. She might not know why her pregnant aunt drowned herself in the family well, but she sure as heck knows the impact of her aunt’s story on her family dynamics.

This is an exceptionally smart rendering of emotional truth regardless of facts, and as such, signs a permission slip for memoir writers. We can let our DNA speak. We can speculate on the page without having to pin down the facts. Speculation can become part of the story.

So much is possible in a memoir! When I first read this, my sense of what can happen in a book exploded open. Norris constructs this book like a good soup, throwing in longer, interlocking essays, short reflections, and even shorter “weather reports.” But this is not a collection of random pieces.

They build, they resonate, and they form a bigger narrative. Wow. For those who wonder if the fragments they’re writing will ever add up, read this to see what’s possible—with the added benefit of an immersion in the plains’ unique beauty.

Steinberg is one of South Africa’s great writers of narrative non-fiction; his work is oddly little known outside his home country and it was of huge value to me when I discovered it, not long after I moved to Johannesburg.

This book tracks the progress of a testing and treatment program in Lusikisiki, which had one of the highest HIV infection rates in the world. Part of the story is told through the eyes of a white doctor who expects that, once treatment is there, everyone will seek it out – and a young Black man named Sizwe, clever and successful, who shows all the reasons why HIV response is not as simple as opening up a clinic.

Steinberg’s book probes into some of the messier, less-well-understood dynamics that have driven the pandemic, and features voices rarely heard outside a community like Lusikisiki.

Oh, Was, how I love your relentlessly bleak, depressing sadness.

This is a strangely inventive novel that twines reality and fantasy into a brutal, desolate, yet gorgeous story of pain and survival. Told from the points of view of numerous characters, each story is tethered in some way to The Wizard of Oz, that venerable fable about good versus evil in the search for home.

Ryman introduces us to a main trio of characters whose lives are all equally harrowing–Dorothy Gael (the imagined inspiration for The Wizard of Oz heroine and the victim of familial sexual abuse), Frances Gumm (who becomes the tragic Judy Garland), and Jonathan (an actor experiencing AIDS-related dementia)–whose stories he intricately weaves together like a master craftsman. And while the novel is not a “happy” read by any stretch of the imagination, what has stayed with me throughout the past thirty years is its… show more.

Scientists now know that the AIDS virus, HIV-1, entered the human population much earlier than is commonly thought—back around 1908, give or take a margin of error, and via a single spillover from a chimpanzee into a human, probably by blood exposure when a chimp was killed and butchered for food. Pepin’s book illuminates how the virus might then, slowly and quietly at first, have spread from a forest in southeastern Cameroun, down tributaries of the Congo River to major cities such as Brazzaville and Leopoldville (now Kinshasa), and from there to the world. Pepin’s work was vastly helpful to me when I assembled my own account of that story, included in my own books.