Books like Monster of God — picked by fans

This book reminds me that our outer journeys are also journeys through our inner landscape.

Matthiessen tells the moving story of a Himalayan pilgrimage in search of enlightenment after his wife’s death. The quest helps him make peace with his loss, as well as gives him a more profound understanding of the fleeting beauty of life.

The narrative especially resonates for me because it takes place in the Himalayas, a part of the world I’m closely connected to: I lived in Nepal when I was a small girl and have spent a lot of time with my Tibetan family in Darjeeling, India. 

Those of us who wage the battle to conserve wildlife don’t always do so in the field. A successful conservation strategy starts with good science, but it often requires effective communication and political strategies as well. J.A. Mills, the author of Blood of the Tiger, is a master at both. Mills, who researched and battled illegal wildlife trade for traffic and the World Wildlife Fund for two decades, gives the reader an often thrilling and always insightful look at the still unfinished battle to save wild tigers from extinction at the hands of poachers and Chinese moguls. She is as expert in describing the politics of CITES – the Convention on Trade in Endangered Species – as she is in detailing the operations of the Chinese markets where tiger parts are sold. Full disclosure: Although Ms. Mills and I have worked in very different domains of the global environmental… show more.

Charlene D’Avanzo is a respected marine ecologist, and her expertise and love for the living creatures of the ocean shine through every page of Cold Blood, Hot Water. But in this, her first novel, she’s after much bigger fish than the ones who swim along with her research vessel. What she reveals to the reader is the real and potentially dire impacts of climate change on the ocean, and the dark motives that drive the energy industry and other malefactors to deny the threat. The wealth of scientific detail in her narrative never overwhelms the human drama of her story, and the result is a riveting tale of science and the sea.  

A Parrot Without a Name is the tale of a quest as primitive and compelling as any grail search from medieval legend. It’s the story of John O’Neill and Theodore Parker, two of the 20th century’s most accomplished birders and ornithologists, and their pursuit of the least known and most elusive birds in the whole of South America. Parker, whose death in a small plane crash in the Ecuadorian mountains cut off one of the most famous and unique escapades in birding – he ended up knowing and recording the calls of more than 4000 bird species – shows up as a colorful character with all the quirks of other great scientific iconoclasts such as Alan Turing and Robert Oppenheimer. 

I’m captivated by this book every time I read it (and I’ve read it a lot). It brings to light the uneasy relationship we have with wild creatures, especially when we unwittingly invite them into our own backyards. A thought-provoking (and often nerve-wracking) narrative about the clash between the citizens of Boulder, CO and the local population of mountain lions, and the distressing expansion of human beings into the few wild areas remaining to them (and, in fact, to all animals). When those pockets of wilderness are gone, where are they supposed to go? How can we alleviate human/animal conflict over resources?

If it’s not already abundantly clear, humans can’t help but argue about wild canids and other carnivores. The concept of trophic cascades, whereby the impacts of apex predators cascade throughout wood febs and whole ecosystems, is no exception. Many people celebrate wolves’ contributions to a wilder Yellowstone ecosystem. Others argue that trophic cascades are limited to certain landscapes. Cristina Eisenberg is a conservation biologist with a writer’s bent and will help you understand the science behind this important topic.

This has to be the coolest story of reinvention – man gets unexpectedly dumped by his wife, moves to a California beach town, rescues a 140-lb neglected Newfoundland, and teaches him how to surf with him on his longboard. Man and dog are both traumatized, and the scenes of their slow dance around one another in a tiny apartment are so sweet and awkward, like the slapstick 80’s sitcoms I grew up watching. I love stories like this that make me believe in fate, that Colin and his dog George were destined to give each other a second chance. When they start winning dog surf competitions, I was cheering out loud. It’s quirky, brilliant, and badass all wrapped in one. 

One of the cliches of historical fiction is that it can bring the past to life in a way that factual historical books can’t. If you read the superb City of Beasts you’ll think again! The book studies the many ways in which animals contributed to and shaped eighteenth-century London. History has largely overlooked their presence – but Almeroth-Williams puts them back in all their noisy, smelly, messy, toiling existence. Here, too, are the men and women who worked with them - the drovers, milkmaids, grooms, and pig keepers whose lives don’t often find a place in the history books. If you want sights, sounds, and smells, here they are in plenty. Few books I’ve read, fact or fiction, have given me such a vivid impression of the every day, working life of Georgian London.

A lot of us have felt that pang of anxiety, the blood rushing to our head, or the butterflies in our stomach, when we have to make our voice heard and speak up for something we hold dear.

Manatee’s Best Friend is a beautiful story about a girl trying to find her voice while courageously trying to protect the sea creatures she loves. Growing up in Honduras, I always longed to see a manatee in the wild. While that wish is yet to come true, Sylvia Liu’s story inspired me to have hope that perhaps one day I might still get that wish!  

As designers, we should arguably take responsibility for the ecological footprint of our own lifestyles before we attempt to impose sustainable lifestyles on those who use the spaces we create. This book guides you through simple yet profound ways to reconnect with the natural world. Being in touch with nature yourself will help you design spaces that prioritise the natural world and connect people to it, even in the city. I have always loved Barnes’s nature of writing for its fundamental insights and poetic style. This has inspired my own ‘rewilding’ process, culminating in the creation of the Rewild My Street resource, which offers a design toolkit.