100 Books Like High Tide in Tucson

This simple story offers an intimate view into the life of a hermit crab who has outgrown his shell. He travels along the shore, by the sea in the sand…scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch looking, looking. The lyric repetition I strive for in my own writing helps build tension. The hermit crab needs a place to hide from the prickle pine fish.

I can feel that sandy beach in the illustrations and I have walked there where Hermit Crab encounters a rock, a rusty tin can, driftwood, and an old bucket. None of these make a house for Hermit Crab. I can relate to the satisfaction of a journey’s end. In a new home that is not too heavy or too noisy, not too dark, not too crowded. A safe new home that fits just right. Something we all look for.

Great children's books about the ocean are very rare. Pagoo is a hermit crab, and Holling brings the shore and Pagoo to life. As a marine biologist and parent, I was overjoyed to see how an author and illustrator could produce such a wonderful and literate book that reached out to children so well.

Holling is at the very peak of children’s adventure writing, and he filled his books with magnificent illustrations.

Yes, it’s the old chestnut, and forgive me, but we must read to write, we must wade into other worlds to understand what is at stake, and what is possible, when we begin to shape our story for the page. Noble’s anthology begins with a quote-worthy meditation on the lyric essay and its manifold forms. It carries readers forward with a range of essays and commentary by writers both well-known (Dinty W. Moore, Diane Seuss, and Lidia Yuknavitch) and up-and-coming. The flash, the braid, the collage, the mosaic, the hermit crab—all the forms are here, waiting to be admired and adapted.

Doesn’t every kid want a pet? Most kids think of a dog, a cat, a hamster, or a hermit crab, but this story is about trying a new kind of pet: A skunk.

Bixby Alexander Tam, a.k.a. Bat, has his work cut out for him. His mom is a veterinarian. That’s how the skunk got into the house. (At our house, it was Stretchy the Leech. We have a zoologist in the family.) Watching Bat convince his mom that a skunk could be his pet, instead of a ticking time-bomb, was lots of fun. (I love the author’s note about the skunk scientist. Science magic.)

I love this meditation on magic, parenting a child with a medical condition, and intimate partner violence for its honesty and bravery.

Hillary Leftwich doesn’t shy away from discussing traumatic events and her own decisions that left her life feeling unmoored and the magical pathways that helped her come back to herself. Fearless and insightful, this was one of my favorite memoirs in recent years. 

American settler Cy Bellman leaves his daughter Bess to search for giant monsters in a Kentucky swamp.

It’s a brilliant story of a man’s obsession. But it’s Bess who fascinates.  While others doubt Bellman’s sanity, Bess believes in him. Young and vulnerable, when danger strikes, she’s as fierce as the wilderness her father faces.

She’s left to grow up in the care of an indifferent aunt. When Bess is touched inappropriately by the librarian, the girl takes evasive action. When the yard hand almost rapes her, she fights back, then with a snap, regains her composure to deal with a shocking death.

Davies uses words economically and poetically: they leave me breathless. Though short, the book’s an epic.

A great portrayal of how the impact of war becomes part of our DNA whoever we are.

In the summer of 1969, a small town in Kentucky was famously traumatized after the decimation of the entire National Guard Unit it sent to Vietnam, a higher percentage of deaths than any other geographic region in the country. Based upon a real-life incident, this ingenious novel traces the repercussions of grief and loss through every level of the town’s society.

This collection of essays focuses on a variety of topics, including Mary's relationships, her siblings, her life at the only home she and her husband owned together, her travels, her fashion sense, her psyche, her depiction in photographs and illustrations, and her portrayal in fiction. Although these essays are relatively short, they're crammed full of interesting details. You can read the book straight through or (as I prefer) dip in and out of it at your leisure.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the Flores family for hiring me on as a busier/bartender shortly after I moved to Tucson from Ohio in 1993. Carne Seca, albondigas and topopo were all new words to me that have since become embedded in my daily experience.

Carlotta Flores published a cookbook of recipes from the restaurant in 1998 and I reference it often in my own cookbook, Taste of Tucson. It’s a must-have book for anyone interested in learning more about Sonoran style Mexican food.

Brian Jabas Smith lived a hard life on society’s margins and developed the ability to see people–the forgotten, the filthy, the addicted, and unattractive–that most of us simply look through on our way to someplace else.

In this wonderful book, Smith writes portraits of the invisible people of Tucson, Arizona, most of them down and out, and all of them with stories to tell. But he never slips into mawkishness and doesn’t expect the reader to “do anything” about society’s problems except pay attention to the human beings who take the worst of it.

His graceful and empathetic prose style makes that easy to ride along, and what’s left is a curious glow of hope. Smith is probably the best working journalist in the Southwest today, finding stories where others would never think to look.