Books like Slow Days, Fast Company

A life in the wild entails sacrifice in addition to romance.

Few readers would think of Wallace Stegner’s 1971 Pulitzer Prize winner as a book about the mountains. Its narrator is an elderly man confined to a wheelchair who spends his days researching a biography. Yet his fascinating subject is his frontier-era grandmother, Susan Burling Ward, who gave up a life among sophisticates on the East Coast to follow her husband, a geological engineer, into the mountains of the West. There she found beauty and adventure, but also isolation from the culture and society she had left behind. Are the mountains enough to sustain us without such things?

I read this book in the year after my father died; it was one of his favorites and tied together many of his own interests: genealogy, research, books, family, and the outdoors. Angle of Repose is a long novel and the characters… show more.

A street at the edge of the Pacific in Monterey where sardines are brought in to be canned, is the setting for a collection of colorful characters Steinbeck knew.

Chief among them is Doc, based on Steinbeck’s friend Ed Ricketts, who operated a lab that collected and prepared aquatic specimens for schools and museums. The lab is still there, next to the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

The canneries closed by the 1970’s and today Cannery Row is a thumping tourist trap. But I loved the book because of Doc, a gentleman, and a scholar if there ever was one.

I loved this book because it made me cry with its emotional impact. It opened my eyes to the mistreatment of Native Americans and the Spanish/Mexican inhabitants of southern California when the territory was annexed by the United States after the Spanish-American War. 

This is the love story between the mixed-race orphan girl, Ramona, and Alessandro, the head of the Native American sheep shearers. When they fall in love, knowing her aunt, who took her in and owns the rancho, will never let her marry a Native American, they elope. But Alessandro’s tribe is soon driven off their land by American settlers flooding the area, and he and Ramona are thrown into poverty as they travel from locale to locale, desperately trying to find a place to call home. 

In San Diego, “Little Angel” visits his half-brother, the patriarch of a large Hispanic clan at what they both suspect will be his last birthday party. “Big Angel,” grew up in Mexico and Urrea treats us to the story of his life, how he won his wife, how he ended up in San Diego. “Little Angel,” the author, tries to locate himself in this family, though he is half Gringo.

I loved the deep honesty that goes on in this family gathering, the fun and the sorrow. And it certainly locates the reader in place, in time, and in a culture. All of Urrea’s books are amazing.

I’m a little biased with this one, because Eve was my neighbor growing up and something of a literary fairy godmother, but there are few writers who capture the spirit of Los Angeles with more fascination and ease. Her work is messy—delightfully so, like eavesdropping on that friend who always has the craziest stories to tell about her exploits, and her prose captures her inimitable personality. She notices things about Los Angeles that will make you fall in love with the city all over again, or book your first visit if you’re from out of town. Perfect for readers who want to feel a sense of intimacy with their books, or people like me who love listening in on gossip, the messier the better. Eve always delivers!

I love this essay for the same reason I love so much of DFW’s nonfiction. His voice is completely unique; unashamedly neurotic and over-analytical, to the extent that the stated objective of the trip (the piece is about his week on a cruise ship, which advertises guaranteed total relaxation, pampering, and convenience) is completely – and often comically – undermined.

It resonates with me because I’ve always had trouble with the whole “Just live in the moment!” shtick, so it was very inspiring/validating to discover someone who had made their being an outsider/misfit a strength. To see someone just be unashamedly themselves. So that’s what I took away.

Don’t keep your neuroticism and self-consciousness and eccentricity to yourself to try and seem “normal,” but actually lean into those things. Question things that nobody else seems to be questioning.

I’ve been a fan of Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist and author Dave Barry for decades, and his Lessons From Lucy book surprised me — not because it’s hilarious (of course it is!), but because it’s so profoundly moving. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I read it. Here’s what inspired the book: When Barry turned 70, he reflected on how unhappy he was about aging — in stark contrast with his blissed-out senior dog, Lucy. Barry noticed that Lucy was always ready for fun new adventures, eager to make new friends, and able to live in the moment. In this gem of a book, Barry explores the realities of the human condition and zeroes in on the real keys to contentment in life, all thanks to the love of a dog. 

I love Tim Burton’s movies. His book of poems and short stories is just as good as his movies (don’t let the poems aspect put you off). I’m not a fan of poetry, but this collection of twisted tales is great (especially if you read them in your head in Christopher Lee’s voice).

As a bonus, the book is packed with Tim’s off-beat artwork (which matches the characters perfectly). I love the strange and unusual. To quote Lydia (from Tim Burton’s Beetlejuice), “I myself am strange and unusual.”

This is not a novel, but a collection of Lardner's newspapers columns and short stories, many of which revolve around a bush league pitcher named Jack Keefe who tells stories to his friend.

I love baseball and am fascinated by the early days of the game, and Lardner's Jack makes me feel as if I am experiencing life in baseball's “bushes” back in the 1920s. Oh, yea, that's the other draw of this book for me a view, from his columns and other stories, of the daily grind of American life in an era that was much more than flappers and bathtub gin. (Although there is a bit of both therein). 

There is one very excellent reason to read this book: It’s hilarious. Ms. King delivers her memoir of a 1950s-60s Southern childhood with searing, laugh-til-you-cry wit as she turns classic Southern tropes on their eccentric heads. Everything from the ubiquitous obsession with lineage (“Who are your people?”) to a mother’s nickname for a wayward child (“Mama Tried”) receives its due. It’s a must-read if you want to understand Southern culture or if only to make acquaintance with Ms. King’s most famous one-liner, an admission of the indelible effects of Southern training even in failed ladies: “No matter what sex I slept with, I never smoked on the street.”