Books like Lake Wobegon Days — picked by fans

This book is a bit different from my other recommendations. It’s not a fantasy. What it is is a series of books to make you laugh, cry, think, and most of all, want to go live in the imaginary town of Mitford, North Carolina. This is a small town where the phrase “Mitford takes care of its own” is sometimes hard but always rewarding. Reverend Tim Cavanough is a flawed man with a heart of gold who is in the mid to later stage in life and takes care of his flock of often eccentric, lovable townsfolk with a heart of love. I was with a friend one time walking through a little town in West Virginia, and we had both finished Ms. Karon’s books. The town and its folks reminded us of Mitford with its quaint charm. 

A mix of coming of age in the first half of the twentieth century, and Bradbury’s peculiar brand of very earthly oddness and sci-fi strangeness, Dandelion Wine is full of all sorts of magic. It reminds you of what it is to be a small human again, when everything seems possible, and aliens and monsters are as likely (and as important) as long summer days spent outside, barefoot and sunburnt and a little feral. Even when we don’t recognise the details of the childhood described, we remember the feeling, and it reawakens a sense of wonder that’s incredibly precious.

In 1968, a beautiful thing happened. A book fair came to the gym of my elementary school in Middletown, Ohio. My lunch money could buy only one book. After half an hour, I made my purchase. Even back then, I would rather read than eat. 

I read those six short stories multiple times, at least once a year, and when the time came, I passed it on to my kids, who also read it and passed it on to theirs.

Yes, this is a kid’s book. And half a century later, you can still get it for the price of lunch. Aw heck, splurge a little and read it while you eat lunch. It will improve your digestion.

In this age of schedules and screens and stress, a trip to the simpler times of Centerburg, Ohio is probably the best thing you could do for your sanity. 

That’s what a minute said to an hour
Without me you are nothing

I know what you’re saying. First a kid’s book, now poems? Yes. Even though she has lived in St. Louis, Ramallah, Jerusalem, and now San Antonio, you would swear that she probably lived right down the street from wherever you are. In fact, she lives right down the road from me.

The wind never says
Call me back,
I’ll be waiting for your call.
All we know about wind’s address is
somewhere else.

Even though we share a birthday with Jack Kerouac and James Taylor, we have never met, but when I read her poems, I feel like I’m having a cup of coffee with a close friend, the friend you haven’t seen in years, but you know that if they walked in the door right now, you’d just pick up where you left off and talk… show more.

It is laugh-out-loud funny in places, but the humor also sees the pettiness, pride, and obstinance that can affect human behavior.

Pearson’s narrator is cloaked in childhood innocence that makes his incisive observations not cruel, but simply honest. After I first read this book many years ago, I decided that I would never again make my readers feel wretched nor would I cheat them. Like Pearson, I will, however, trick them.

This book had me laughing from the first page. I could see the town immediately and hear every character’s voice clearly in my head. I found it incredibly easy to read. Before I knew it, I was halfway through the story and I loved Jane, Duncan and Jimmy as though they were members of my own family.

Because this book is so funny, I found that the sad, serious parts affected me deeply. But ultimately, I found it hugely uplifting. It reminded me that the worst events can bring out the best in me and the people I love. I can’t think of anyone I know who wouldn’t love this book. 

Although published long ago, it is remarkable how easy it is to become involved in this book and be charmed by its main character, Tom.

Orphans abound in 18th and 19th-century fiction. What happens to him in an upper-class environment is inevitably unfair and hypocritical, so when he gets on the road—whether as a result of desire or force—the fun truly begins.

Tom says at the beginning that his tale has the purpose of understanding “human nature”, and after spending time with him on his adventures, from the estate where he grows up to his romp in London, we have a sense of the good nature of human nature. Tom’s sense of life infuses his life on the road, offering a character to celebrate despite his flaws.

I’d never heard the term “epistolary novel” prior to reading Michael Kun’s The Locklear Letters, but was immediately smitten with the concept of telling a story solely through a series of letters and/or emails sent by the narrator.

This sequel follows the same template and the same protagonist a decade down the line. I liken it to finding a boxful of letters and using them to piece together a hilarious comedy of errors. Maybe you’ll keep digging and find an older box later, or maybe the archivist kept orderly annals, allowing you to move forward through the years.

Sequencing doesn’t matter, but the written words will leave you in stitches. 

Donna Andrews is next with her delightful Meg Langslow Mysteries. My book was the first book I read in this series, and then I had to go back and start from the beginning and wait (im)patiently between each release for the next one.

I love how Meg handles things and how she puts the pieces together. I often finish the books in this series and think, “I could have figured it out if I hadn’t been snickering so much!” 

I found this book hysterically funny, and the dialogue more imaginative than any book I’ve ever read. The characters are without equal in terms of their originality, including the children of Jack and Babette Gladney.

The sheer number of meaningful topics this story covers is also without equal. The author’s observations are extremely keen. At its core, it is about the fear of death, though it is not a depressing story in any sense. It’s no wonder why it won the 1985 National Book Award.