86 Books Like Soar High

Brandon sets forth a reasonable and compelling case for viewing the historical Jesus as one of several anti-Roman insurgents.

He collects narrative oddities that make good sense as loose ends that escaped early attempts to whitewash Christianity’s militant origins, e.g., the shifting of the blame for Jesus’ execution from the Romans to the Jews.

As Leen Ritmeyer has done for the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, Yigael Yadin has done for the fortress of Masada in the Judean wilderness. Through the findings of his excavations of Masada from October 1963 to May 1964, he transports you back in time to when the defenders of Masada, the last holdout of the Jewish rebellion, held off the Roman military for a time in AD 73. When the Romans finally breached the fortress, all they found were dead bodies. The Jewish defenders chose to end their own lives and those of their families to escape being killed, tortured, or sold into slavery. Yadin also presents the history of the fortress back to its founding by the Hasmonean, Alexander Jannaeus. 

This book offers an incredibly practical and uplifting perspective on turning ideas into action.

What I appreciated most was its blend of real-world business advice with powerful storytelling and emotional depth. T.D. Jakes challenges readers to stop waiting for the “perfect time” and start building with what they already have. His message on resilience, clarity of vision, and taking ownership of your path resonated deeply with me as an entrepreneur and personal coach.

It’s a motivational guide for anyone ready to rise above fear and take flight toward their full potential.

Having climbed North America’s highest peak 3 times, Denali’s Howl describes a horrific situation on a mountain I’m all too familiar with.

The weather patterns, distance, and size of Denali make it an unforgiving peak to climb. I couldn’t put this book down as Hall recounted the dire scenario the climbers went through resulting in tragedy.

Hoping to gain perspective on his troubled marriage, the deaths of friends, and the vagaries of middle age, charter-boat captain Lynn Schooler commits to a walkabout along the “Lost Coast,” one of Southeast Alaska’s wildest stretches.

What begins as a voyage of introspection soon becomes a grueling march—through pelting rain, jungle-like brush, and ankle-busting boulder fields—that climaxes in a long face-off with a rogue bear and the terrifying crossing of a meltwater torrent.

Just getting to this trail-less wilderness in Glacier Bay National Park tests Schooler's mettle; waves pound his small vessel, and boat-swallowing currents threaten his entry into Lituya Bay. On my Brooks Range traverse, I too was moving steadily toward home (in my case, Nome) a knowledge that powered each step and oar stroke.

Kate Shugak, a park service ranger in Alaska, solves crimes with the aid of her canine companion, Mutt. Having a part wolf, part dog companion is integral to the story as Kate finds herself in precarious situations amongst the solitary and foreboding landscape. Kate will draw on her Native American heritage and culture to help her find an ancient artifact that has been missing for decades. Mutt leaps to Kate’s rescue as she uncovers the clues that villains are desperate to keep hidden. 

Sometimes, when we read history, it seems so dry and different from our own lives that it's hard to comprehend. In the 1920s and 30s, June Burn homesteaded on an island in the San Juans, lived in Alaska, and traveled across the country with a donkey cart. Yet I can envision myself in her adventurous life because her views were so much like my own. She was a feminist and a strong, brave woman who used her writing as an excuse to talk to strangers.

Nothing wrong with a little bit of erotica. This one not only has one of the best titles of any book ever, it also has its tongue jammed firmly in its cheek. When your inciting incident is a jilted bride walking into a bar in Alaska, in her wedding dress—a bar that happens to be owned by eight brothers, one of whom is named Sebastian Badd– You know you're in for a good time.

Haines was best known as a poet, highly respected by other writers but uncompromising and without much commercial success or recognition. This collection of essays in the form of a memoir similarly makes no compromise, dispensing with plot, characters, or even a clear sense of time and geography. Instead, Haines takes the reader deep into the mind of a lone man surviving for decades in the harshest wilderness, thinking, observing, and writing—his own mind. And the writing is so strong, it turns out, that he doesn’t need those usually necessary tools of narrative he pointedly ignores. Instead, we feel the cold, see the hypnotic stars above the snow, and feel the brittle edge of aloneness. Through sheer stylistic austerity, those dark lonely nights are real.

McPhee refers to the “gin-clear” water of Alaskan rivers, and his prose is equally lucid. It is also dense with facts, each sentence packed like a canoe or loaded raft. Serialized in the New Yorker in the 1970s, the “The Encircled River” section describes his canoe journey down a 60-mile segment of Salmon River, the most northern river above the Arctic Circle.

With four others who worked for the U.S. government, they studied the river as a national wild river Congress would be voting on to become part of the Kobuk Valley National Monument. The legislation passed under Jimmy Carter on December 2, 1980. Pair with his Survival of a Birch Bark Canoe.