Books like Landslide

It is my sincerest belief that science fiction loses its purpose when it focuses too much on the science and too little on the humans (or aliens, or sentient spores) at the center of the story.

No one can accuse Swyler’s Light from Other Stars of that. Straddling the line between literary and science fiction, this novel is about space travel, yes, but it’s also about parent-child bonds, friendship, and the people of a small town in Florida in all their idiosyncrasies, virtues, and flaws.

This novel will make you think (mostly about physics), but it will also make you deeply feel.     

I am fascinated by stories that encapsulate a whole life, usually from the perspective of a character looking back, assessing, wondering, and coming to terms with all that has transpired, both personally and globally. I am particularly fascinated by multi-dimensional female characters.

I was taken from page one by how well this story transitioned through different perspectives to offer a kaleidoscopic view of a life lived by a strong, unapologetic, complicated woman. 

I loved Writers & Lovers because it captures something that isn’t talked about enough: the strange, in-between years of adulthood when you’re supposed to have things figured out but very much do not.

Casey is grieving, broke, juggling complicated romantic relationships, and trying to finish writing a book while the rest of the world seems to be moving forward. 

What resonated most with me is how honestly Lily King writes about ambition and uncertainty. Casey isn’t lost because she lacks intelligence or drive—she’s lost because life is complicated, money is stressful, and love rarely arrives in a neat, predictable form.

I’ve never read anything quite like this novel centering on a female photographer, Helen Adams, covering the Vietnam War. Years after reading it, I can still picture scenes and, I swear, feel the heaviness of the air and hear the fruit falling from the trees. Soli has talked about how she got tired of reading wonderful novels where the men went off and had wartime adventures and the women just dropped off the page. So she wrote her own wartime saga.

Helen Adams never drops off the page—she leaps off them. The writing is as lush as the landscape, and you’ll fall entirely into the world of the book. There’s war and treachery and duty and passion, and nothing is ever simple.

In both my novels I explore the cultural, almost exclusively oral history of Maine woodsmen and -women. An old man now, I knew people who worked as loggers, river drivers, and so on before the advent of power tools, electricity, or motorized hauling.

A non-writer friend told me about this book, which is concerned with the same culture across the New Brunswick border, mere miles from where my novels are set. His evocation of that arduous, raconteur-populated, dangerous world bolstered my own seat-of-the-pants knowledge and offered a wealth of specific physical detail and a sense of storytelling’s central importance in the old logging communities.

The book, then, served as a model for my own explorations of a culture whose likes we will never see again and whose preservation in words is among my own most passionate aims. 

When I first started writing mysteries, I realized that a different approach had to be used when I wrote in a first-person point of view. Only those clues that are seen by the main character can be shown to the reader. So that might limit what I, the author, can use as clues.

In Doiron's book, the main character is in law enforcement, and he has access to methods and information that a non-LEO person can access. But despite that Mike Bowditch, the main character, often doesn't realize that he's found a clue or a key to a mystery until it almost slips out of his hands. That makes him a person I can relate to.

And I also like that he explains a lot about policies and procedures just as he decides he's not going to follow said procedures.

What often looms as large as a given trauma is the burden of keeping it a secret, and I love this book for its gentle exploration of how that burden manifests, repeats, and reverberates through three generations of women.

Faye’s complicated and beautiful story would be enough to carry an entire novel, but Faye inadvertently teaches her daughters to bury their own self-doubts and shame, creating an echo of hurt and healing that took my breath away.

These three women were very real to me, and I was so attached to each of them by the end of the book that I was ready to drive up to Maine, knock on their door, and invite myself in. 

Olive is not a likable character, yet so many readers related to her in the first book, as I did. Strout took a completely different approach in this sequel, which appealed to me even more. We see the larger community in Olive’s life, looking at her through her interactions with friends, neighbors, and a lover who becomes her second husband.

Strout weaves present and past using these different perspectives, showing the rare kindnesses that Olive allows herself. By the end, she was a hero to me because of her changes as a person—the increased compassion tempered her frankness. A brilliant and realistic exploration of aging, illness, and death.  

This was my first delightful introduction to Susan Elizabeth Phillips's romantic comedies. I adore genre-benders, and this romance also has suspense and mystery.

I was curious by the unconventional set-up: a female ventriloquist who talks to her puppets has to live on a remote island off the coast of Maine in winter. There, she encounters an unlikable boy from her childhood—now a man who’s become a huge horror author and may or may not be a killer. The rugged island setting and its quirky cast of characters let Phillips have some fun with gothic tropes, a favorite of mine. 

Ketchum’s classic survival horror novel about cannibals attacking a cabin of vacationers is pure 80s slasher goodness. It was perhaps the darkest book of its kind for a long time and pulls no punches with the intensity of its chase scenes. Ketchum’s economical writing style makes it a very easy read, one where you will root for the good guys, and be left emotionally drained by the end.