Books like Southwest Sunrise — picked by fans

Many of us tend to view gardens only from the surface up.

This book dives underground to show how many living things in the dirt are working hard to help us garden. Worms and insects that we might find “gross” are actually essential for airing the soil and warding off invaders.

Plenty of things grow just fine without human help because they have all the helpers they need under the earth. This book shows how nature goes about its business, plants and insects and animals all working together to green the earth.

Bonus: Neal’s illustrations are anatomical wonders, showing worms and bugs with legs and feelers in a friendly light. Squeamish children (and their parents) might make a few buggy friends as they read.

This joyful book about the life cycle of a dandelion will have you on the edge of your seat!

I’m not kidding – suspense and humor pervade the tale, which takes our dandelion from an unlikely sprouting in a city sidewalk to adventures and tragedy in the countryside (being trampled by a moose!), to the ecstasy and triumph of a final scattering of its millions of little seeds.

What child hasn’t blown on the fluffy ball of dandelion seeds? Understanding where the seeds come from and where they’re going is a life lesson worth learning about this special indigenous plant too often dismissed as a “weed.”

Barbara Chotiner’s chaotic and evocative illustrations will bear up under many repeated readings.

When I take the time to really look at a rock and contemplate the journey that brought it to me, I am humbled. I’m reminded that I’m a small part of something bigger, an experience shared by the characters in this gorgeous picture book about rocks, intergenerational relationships, and Indigenous knowledge.

In Where Wonder Grows, Grandma leads her granddaughters to a special garden, and together they explore a collection of rocks. Grandma encourages the girls to look closely at each rock and to think about how it formed and all it has been through. She helps the girls see that rocks are “alive with wisdom” and that nature is full of wonder. 

This extraordinary book (bilingual in English and Spanish, with excerpts in the Mayan language K’iche’) tells the true story of Don Margarito Esteban Álvarez Velázquez, a Maya farmer who planted trees instead of clearing land for corn and beans.

His vision and foresight came partly from his relationship with the village holy man, who taught him reverence for nature and ways to use native plants for food and medicine.

In creating and defending his forests, Don Margarito was ahead of his time in preventing erosion and preserving the soil for generations to come, even as his village was ravaged by government forces in the long-lasting genocide of indigenous peoples during the second half of the twentieth century. (This part of the story is treated very briefly and sensitively for younger readers.) 

Allison Havens’s bright collage illustrations incorporate drawings made by children from the present-day Central Guatemalan village where Don Margarito… show more.

Of the dozens of cult memoirs I’ve read, I like this one best. Why? Because Hollenbach turns her cult experience into a thing of sensual beauty. She skillfully evokes the scrubby yet lush feeling of the land near Taos, New Mexico, where she spent five life-changing months.

She also conveys the romance of throwing herself into a daring experiment and the longings her cult experience did and didn't satisfy. Finally, she shows how any intelligent adult might surrender her sovereignty to an egomaniac—then compost that detour into fertilizer for her next phase.

Carolina walks a fine line between reality and magic, a state of mind many a struggling child understands.

Stuck with her grandfather, whose mind is failing, she finds a special connection to the fantastical stories he tells of a lake and bees and a tree, all connected with love of family and one’s roots. She forms a special bond with her “crazy” grandfather.

His stories about the tree with the magical power to bring people back together especially rings true. Who doesn’t believe in the magic of trees, especially old trees with deep roots (I still do). When Carolina rescues her grandfather from the old folks home and convinces her parents not to sell the family ranch, everything comes together.

Reality and magic really do belong together.

I tend to flee from memoirs and “horse story” books. Then I read Half Broke by Ginger Gaffney.

Ginger is a schooled writer, horse trainer, clinician, rider-trainer and, in my opinion, a master observer. She was asked to help the tooth-bearing, ear-pinning, predatory gang of horses tended by the Livestock Team of resident “multiple offenders and felons” at an alternative-prison ranch in New Mexico. As a memoir, Half Broke is a “peeling off” of emotional bandages—for her, for the raw souls of the inmates and for the horses.

Ginger’s style is straightforward, non-judgmental, and thought challenging. No gooey anthropomorphizing.

This is a gritty depiction of a young boy whose decisions are far from a child’s resolve. The portrait McCarthy gives the reader left me with trail dust in my throat it was so gritty. I was uprooted from my easy, protected life and transformed into the world of 16-year-old Billy as he chooses the hard way.

His decisions have consequences, but his resolve is strong.

Charnas steps away from the idea of vampires as supernatural creatures. Her protagonist, Dr. Edward Weyland is a natural creature who must feed on blood to survive. He's not always presented as a "good guy" but I still found myself rooting for him as he moved through the story, trying to understand who and what he truly is. This was also one of the first novels I read where the vampire wasn't fabulously wealthy. Instead, he had to make a living as an anthropology professor. His background as a professor also made his quest for self-understanding feel authentic and relatable.

Old Cold Cannibal is a bit of an outlier in this list, as it doesn’t fully conform to the Douglas Adams/Terry Pratchett style of humor/narration or plotting. But it’s a unique book with an amazing voice. I have a soft spot for harsh 1800s white narrators whose doubling down on arrogance and (historically accurate) racism wrap around from being awful to weirdly and unsettlingly charming. Old Cold Cannibal delivers on that 100% and allows it to infuse some humor into what is otherwise a very dark and disturbing narrative that follows a journey across the pre-Civil War U.S. to find and slay a dragon. It’s a rough, but entertaining read.