100 Books Like Mighty Storms of New England

Meteorologists generally regard this 2004 two-volume set as the definitive tome in describing the major snowstorms which have impacted the northeastern US since colonial times. These two highly credentialed and well-known former National Weather Service experts provide a detailed analysis of each storm, along with their painstaking reconstruction of surface and upper-air pressure patterns for many of them. The result is an enormous wealth of information offered up in this 821-page magnum opus (with some 500 references) which will satisfy both the interested layperson and the seasoned professional meteorologist. 

This delightful chronicle of the infamous Blizzard of 1888 and its impact upon the population of New York City was published on the storm’s 100th anniversary. Prior to penning this book, Ms. Cable authored nine others over nearly two decades—including several on American social history—and served as editor/writer for The New Yorker and Harper’s Bazaar (among other publications). In my view, this prior experience was key to her uncommon ability to consistently evoke the vivid images of the trials and tribulations experienced by numerous real-life figures (some famous), and to create a broader social context throughout the book. For these reasons, hers was among the most enjoyable accounts of the Great Blizzard I’ve had the pleasure of reading.

This book is ideal for those who simply want to enjoy the plethora of great visuals which capture the splendor of New York City’s most memorable blizzards. Covering twelve such events between 1888 and 1994, this oversized book contains, by far, the greatest number of photos I have ever seen in a single compilation. Each photo’s caption also includes the source detail—something rare in most other accounts. Ample text accompanies each photo, making this a most pleasurable and informative read. 

This book, with its captivating accounts of human bravery, is unmatched for sheer excitement. Turner’s vivid description of the misfortunes befalling scores of residents throughout the Northeast stems from the astonishing level of detail he garnered through dozens of interviews with survivors and meteorologists and from myriad articles he culled from over 20 newspapers dating back to 1888. Born in 1935 and a lifelong native of the Jersey shore, he is able to artfully share his childhood experiences living through three of the legendary superstorms in this superbly written and well-researched work. Even without a degree in meteorology (though once a high school geography and English teacher), Turner’s love of big storms—particularly snowstorms—is obvious throughout. Dare I say it could well rival my own?

I love how Dean takes a creepy cow head on a barn, and builds a compelling mystery around it. The cow head permeates the book, watching, judging, accusing, and shedding tears in the aftermath of a storm—seemingly more alive than wooden. Next to the cow head, snow is the dominant image. It’s a place for fun, as the main character and her close friend create snow angels, but it also carries a warning in the form of a message written in white, and as a blizzard, it knocks out the power in town, making getting around dangerous. Set in New England in the dead of winter, this is a book to read on a dark, frigid night with a hot drink and a blazing fire. 

We highly recommend this capacious “counter-archive” of Native writing because it definitively lays to rest the myth of the “vanishing Indian.” Covering more than four centuries, it includes work from ten tribal nations from Maine to Connecticut in the form of early political petitions and land deeds to contemporary poetry and blogs. We love that its editor, a non-Native scholar, drew on the expertise of eleven Native editors from tribal communities for its diverse content, sourced from oral narratives, manuscripts stored in garages, and passed-around bootlegged copies. We also love that the book inspired a website for the extra material and for new work being produced now. In this sense, the website is a living document that illuminates the long history and vibrant presence of Indigenous writing.

The first great American trashy novel, Peyton Place today seems rather tame, but in its day, it was scandalous. Plucking it from my mother’s bookcase when I was 14, I was engrossed by its roaring passion and sensational secrets.

Set in a small New England town, the book set the stage for the modern soap opera, and I wolfed it down like a big box of candy. It reminds me of those great, heady melodramas of the 1950s (and was itself made into a fabulously sudsy film in 1957), an intoxicating mix of all things forbidden.

I adored the fact that it was literary, which it doesn’t get enough credit for. I think its opening line—“Indian summer is like a woman…”—is one of the best in mid-20th Century literature. 

I love this book because it has so many layers that appeal to me: a historical period, the challenges of growing up, and a young woman who dreams of being a writer.

As an author, Jo March’s writing aspirations spoke to me, although I think I saw a bit of me in each of the four March sisters. That breadth is what welcomes me as a reader each time I return to the novel. And—no spoilers—I still sometimes scratch my head over the twist in the romance plot that didn’t go as I anticipated when I first read the book! 

Think folk horror and you think rural setting, pretty cottages, white picket fences, and lurking ritual. Harvest Home is a folk horror classic and hits these expectations spot on.

A city couple escapes to the village of Cornwall Coombe to give their daughter a better quality of life. Everything is perfect until the husband discovers they were welcomed for a very specific reason. This discovery, becoming more evident as the harvest ritual approaches, leaves him in fear of losing his life and his family.

I loved this gradual teasing out of horror, subtle nuances that build to the awful climax. The ending is chilling, contrasting so sharply as it does against the background of a rural paradise, giving me one of those ‘oh!’ moments.

Pitkin writes in a very accessible style. What drew me into this book, in particular, is that he starts the book off with a personal experience. He writes of the incident that turned him from a skeptic into a believer in the paranormal. Intriguing stuff, to be sure ... but this revelation also changed his attitude towards teaching, making him more tolerant of other cultures, and more open to sharing different worldviews with his students. Whereas prior to this experience, he had been dismissive of what he saw as "primitive" beliefs (regarding African belief in witchcraft and the afterlife), he was now more willing to explore alternative belief systems with his students.