99 Books Like Plant Life in the World's Mediterranean Climates

Written originally for Great Britain, this book (and also Volume II) describes plants that grow outdoors in California's mediterranean climate. You will delight in recognizing old friends and discovering new plants that grow well in our region. There is a photograph of each plant in its native habitat and information on its basic care. An index in Volume II includes the plants in Volume I as well.

An introductory chapter describes our greater Bay Area climate and its microclimates. The plants listed are ones that will thrive in the region with a minimum of summer water. The glory of the book is in the photographs by Saxon Holt, which include close shots for identification and wider shots that will inspire you to combine plants handsomely in your garden. 

Historically, California native plants were often grown in European gardens before they were accepted into California gardens. Now they are being grown in California for their beauty and frequent drought tolerance. Here you will see photos of plants in garden landscapes with information about the regions in which they will grow, their needs, and their care. 

In this book are directions for planting and pruning roses and protecting them from pests, all keyed to the climate of the greater Bay Area. The separate chapter on rose-growing in the fog will be especially welcomed by coast-side gardeners, as will the list of rose varieties rated for the SF Bay Area. Order the book's current edition on the San Francisco Rose Society website using the direct link below. 

I am fascinated with this episode in Bronze Age history, and this book delves deep into this period of turmoil and chaos that affected the Mediterranean region in a dramatic way.

There are so many unknowns about this period, but the authors do a great job of trying to piece together a coherent story of the disaster that ended or set back civilizations across southern Europe, North Africa, and the Levant.

You rarely hear any mention these days of John Hawkes or his masterful 1971 novel, The Blood Oranges, his sumptuously written exploration of one man’s pursuit of freedom—in particular, sexual freedom—and the costs and consequences of that pursuit for himself, his wife, and the couple they meet, bond with, seduce in more ways than one, and help to destroy. 

Which is too bad. Because it’s truly exceptional.

The story unfolds in an unnamed tropical setting that is rich with atmosphere and heat, literal and otherwise.  Entering its world was like throwing open the doors to a dream, a dream heavy with languorous passion and sexual tension. It was poetry in sensual slow motion, poetry in the guise of fiction, erotically charged but never ever pornographic (one reviewer called its underlying subject “sexistentialism”). 

Hawkes gifts all this to us in voluptuous prose that suffuses the senses; it dazzles and soars.… show more.

I think Cline does a wonderful job explaining how civilizations can and do collapse or survive, but also bringing the distant past to life. The work takes on the tremendous change that happened around 1177 B.C. Yes, climate change, but volcanic explosions also helped push societies off course.

That may well have started the whole series of cataclysmic events, such as extended drought. Empires such as Egypt, Assyria, Phoenicia, and Israel all had to come to terms with massive change not of their own choosing.

I loved how Cline wrestles with how some survived, and others didn’t. Was geography, military, economics, or some level of hierarchy better than another? There is much to think about.

Most of the action is set in the Aegean, where the author served with the Special Boat Service, an off-shoot of the Special Air Service. Their aim was to raid airfields on the German-held islands.

He tells not only of the daring adventures but his admiration of the Greek resistance fighters who risked not only their own loves, but that of whole villages, to offer their support to the British.

I first read this book while living in Venice in the winter of 1985. Morris writes of a sea voyage along the ancient trade route and to the maritime colonies of her beloved lagoon city and, in the process, reveals much about the aggression and rapacity required by its merchant rulers to build one of humanity’s most beautiful and audacious creations.

Her book, along with Mumford’s, was formative for my understanding of the dependence of imperial cities upon an expansive hinterland and the role of warfare in its acquisition. In Venice’s case, its ship-building Arsenale made possible the splendid palaces that line the Grand Canal and the immense pile of loot that is the Basilica San Marco.

This book features a young Helen of Sparta’s adventures with her siblings, who are notable figures of their own in myths and legends. I’m a sucker for those mythological connections I first discovered in Goddess of Yesterday, and this is also very similar to it in that it might be marketed as a children’s book. Still, the themes and events are intense, and they hold up amazingly. 

I love this version of Helen. She’s adventurous, smart, and stubborn. Helen is so often portrayed as a vain villain or an unwitting scapegoat, so it’s really refreshing to read something that acknowledges that she was more than just a pretty face. She was the princess of Sparta. She was raised to be tough, tactical, and warlike.