Books like On the Banks of Plum Creek

Even though it’s more of a YA book, I struggled with this as a teenager, so I picked it back up a few years ago with no great expectations. We were staying in a static home in Cornwall and the weather was vile, morning and night. Perhaps I would have motored through any book given these circumstances. Or perhaps it’s just a magical novel.

I’m going with the latter because it has since become my number-one comfort read. Comradeship, adventure, tension and drama, authentic historical detail, lyrical descriptions of Iron Age Britain… it has it all and more. As it happens, I have only just finished the sequel – The Silver Branch – and this book is a worthy challenger, too!

I was still at school when I came across Mary Renault’s The King Must Die and was absorbed into the world of ancient Greece.

I knew then what was missing from history lessons: any sense of being there, of feeling emotion for the characters, of being gripped. I went on to read all her books and took to philosophy and Platonism because of them.

When I put the book back on the library shelf, I made a vow: let me do for others what this author has done for me.

This is a picture book, but not for very young children. The quiet, almost understated text and art add to the power of the story: a small boy’s experience of coal mining in Nova Scotia in the 1950s. (Though it wasn’t written till 2017). Reading it as an adult, and despite having lived in Nova Scotia as a teenager, I was completely rocked and almost disorientated as I began to grasp the reality of it. I’m not sure which aspect I found more disturbing – imagining the men in the long dark tunnels under the sea, or the boy’s complete acceptance that he would follow this way of life in his turn.  

I fell in love with the irrepressible Pagan as soon as I read this book. It’s difficult to imagine that life with the Knights Templar at the time of the Crusades was highly amusing – but despite the wealth of knowledge and detail that informs this book, it is wry and sometimes laugh-out-loud funny. Who wouldn’t love Pagan’s favorite curse: "Christ in a cream cheese sauce’?" 

Abby, like most high school girls, wants to be liked, have friends, go to dances, and dress in the latest fashions. The only difference between her and everyone else is she and her family are homeless and living in her mom's van, and Abby doesn't want anyone to know. Tension builds as the weather gets colder in Minnesota and Abby fears being found out. The author touches on many current issues through a delightful cast of characters, showing just how resourceful teenagers can be and how difficult situations can make you stronger.  

Each time the ‘Little House’ books cross my path, I am reminded of where and when I first discovered the series. My dad regularly took my sister and I to the (Otis) Children’s Library, then located atop the Church Street hill in downtown Norwich, CT. We devoured the Little House books and much of the library’s young reader collection, usually finishing the books before their due date, when Dad was happy to drive us again. 

I probably identified with the Ingalls family. Their experience in the American frontier echoed certain life patterns of my dad’s immigrant family (a half-century later). Self-sufficiency, frugality, gratitude for small blessings, and appreciation for Nature’s beauty and bounties were just a few. This “Treasury” brings together many of Laura’s wonderful Christmas memories.

I remember as a boy weeping at the end of Where the Red Fern Grows, not because the dogs died, but because Billy Colman returned decades later to find the rusted axe from that fateful night still stuck in the tree. Great books show us time isn’t linear; it’s like an accordion folding over on itself, so a pivotal moment from our past can, in some mysterious way, always feel present. Here. Somehow on the tip of time’s tongue. It makes you ache with the fullness of your story, your life. The ending of Ordinary Grace did that to me. As I turned the final pages, I wept, my kids pounding on the locked door of the bedroom, and my own childhood pounding on the door of my heart. 

Unspeakable Things is based on a true crime from Jess Lourey’s own small, Minnesota hometown.

Set in the 1980s, Cassie McDowell’s life on a farm with her sister and parents looks like a perfect childhood. She loves school, has a crush on the nicest boy… But when local boys start to go missing and the haunting crimes become a pall over this idyllic childhood and the more Cassie learns about what is happening, the more she realizes that the monster she feared under the bed may be real.

The point of view of 13-year-old Cassie draws you back to the age when we make that subtle but permanent shift from childhood into the brutal reality of the adult world. Fraught and tense, this is the kind of story that stayed with me long after I read the final page. 

Sigurd Olson’s book is the most beautifully written and profound evocation of the utter beauty of the Quetico-Superior wilderness that I have ever read. Olson finds wonder and astonishment everywhere: trees, lakes, rivers, wildlife, and birds; the sound of rain; “laughing loons,” the signature sound of the North Country; falling leaves and bobcat trails.

I have read this entire book twice, and each time, I have learned more about appreciating the beauty of the wild. Each chapter is a unique lesson in seeing, hearing, and—most importantly—learning how to appreciate the wild and immerse oneself within it while leaving it intact. 

Cheri Register grew up in Albert Lea, Minnesota in the 1950s and 60s, in a working-class home.

When she was 14, a strike in a meatpacking plant created deep divisions within the town and brought national attention when the National Guard was called out to maintain order. As a teenager Register felt acutely the social tensions and class conflicts inherent in such a situation.

In this book she elegantly weaves together her personal coming-of-age story and her own family’s history with details of the strike gathered from archives as well as conversations with those who lived through it.

With sensitivity, humor, affection, and respect for the people of her hometown Register has written a classic American story with a focus on class issues that remain to be resolved.