Books like Stolen — picked by fans

This chronicle of arctic life and landscape enchanted me from the beginning.

Here is the true story of Christiane Ritter, an Austrian painter with no outdoor experience who travels to the remote northern coast of Svalbard to spend the winter of 1933-34 with her scientist husband.

Ritter’s frank voice and wry humor drew me right in; at first, she’s hilariously unimpressed by the pack ice and endless snow! But soon she’s deeply transformed by the same things that inspire me to write about the far north: the land’s vast scale, the aurora borealis, arctic foxes, and night skies brimming with stars.

A few weeks into winter’s polar night she describes herself as “moonstruck” and the following rapturous chapters kept me breathlessly reading until the end.

This is a little off-piste in that this isn’t exactly about cold climates; the main topic of Dodds Pennock’s book is about how Indigenous Americans discovered Europe. I first heard Dodds Pennock talk about her book at a lecture in London just a few months back and had to buy the book, which is a riveting account of the reverse migration of Indigenous Americans to Europe.  

Why include this book on the Arctic, you ask? Dodds Pennock also writes about a few Indigenous Inuit that make it to England, and I haven’t stopped thinking about the story she tells about their fraught lives in the UK and (until now) unknown or forgotten history in England. For example, she tells a gripping story of two Inuits who were abducted and brought to London in the 1570s and are buried in the city in unmarked graves at St. Olave’s Church. 

I had never been to Greenland when I first read Gretal Erlich’s book, and I knew very little about this mysterious continent. What I loved most about Erlich’s writing is that she really takes readers on a journey, introducing us to the people she meets in her travels, which are as fascinating as her singular way of describing the landscape, which is like no other place on earth.

Many years later, I travelled to Greenland and appreciated the accuracy of her descriptions firsthand. 

James Michener is my favorite author. What can I say? I’m a sucker for epics: narratives that fully explore characters, families, historical eras, and locations, both exotic and ordinary. Michener chooses a location and fully explores its history and people; those people don’t always behave as expected.

They interact in unexpected ways, making decisions that are not always what they “should” and marrying (or otherwise) lovers (and otherwise) across cultures and ages. We see how history truly is, humankind ravaging the unknown in discovery and survival.

I chose this book because it was the first one of his I read, and I lost myself in a world of wilderness, a gold rush, and a fight for statehood. It taught me most of what I know about the 49th state, as well as looking beyond the history books to see the human aspect of the past. 

I love this book because it is raw. For those who dismiss erotic writing, because they think there are only a finite number of ways to write about sex and sexuality, I recommend this book. The raw and transformative way it writes about the attraction, longing, and pain of sex is joyous and agonising to read.

I love it because I don’t actually like either of the main characters, and liking the characters can often rescue a book from otherwise poor writing. I loved this book despite disliking the main characters. 

I loved eight-year-old Viva’s struggle to connect with her entrancing but erratic mother, Charlotte. Viva is desperate to get away, partly because she’s afraid of becoming her mother. I was entranced with their endless, joyful, though stress-filled, hours together. I was delighted to see Viva find herself in her talent for dance.

And I was heartsick that Viva’s success paralleled Charlotte’s descent into drink as she faced the reality of her own failures as an artist. I rooted desperately for Viva to avoid her mother’s mistakes and take control of her life.

I truly believe Kiley Reid is a national treasure. Her second book centers around a small southern college town, and as someone who attended one of those myself, I can tell you that it perfectly captures that spirit. Even though the book is more character study than plot-forward, the southern sorority girls, the writing professor, and the overworked RA all come together to make an absolute mess in the end.

Effortlessly weaving multiple narrators and storylines together, this book is everything I want satire to be. Each character is rich and fully realized, often dabbling in doing “bad” things but never making you quite dislike them. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun watching everything go tits up.

This mesmerizing book started my love affair with Sweden. The story was spellbinding, and the chilly Nordic winter crept into my bones. It made me book a long holiday to explore the Swedish archipelago, a landscape that has inspired so many brilliant Scandinavian authors.

I found the plot riveting. I used to dream of starting a new life in a country idyll with my husband and kids, but the reality of such a huge life change can be much more challenging. This book explores the impact of losing a child, which has always been my biggest nightmare.

The combination of exquisite landscapes, believable characters, and a horrifying dilemma make this book one of my all-time favorites.

This is my favorite book by my favorite author. Beware, this is seriously more addictive fiction than I’ve ever read before—I don’t know anyone who reads this one who hasn’t plowed through the rest of Goddard’s list and then reread them all.

I loved the characters in this book and loved the premise—that the world (like ours, but different) has gone through a cataclysmic event, and now the work is to make it better than it ever was before. Fundamentally, it is a book about friendship and goodness. This and the rest of Goddard’s books will have you believe that we can create a better world together. (The first pages are slow, but stay with them, and you will have dozens of hours of delight as you move through the whole set of her books.)

In my own work, as is likely obvious, mental health is a huge focus. I’m someone with a history of depression, anxiety, and anorexia. That middle element here, anxiety, is something I’ve seen written about a great deal, but rarely have I experienced it as profoundly as I did in this book.

When Alice starts losing control of her reality when her spiral begins in earnest… It was like reading what a panic attack feels like. And I mean that as the highest of compliments. I think this might make this read a difficult pill for some to swallow, but I was left in awe of Elliott’s skill.

The book is captivating in its own right, the story (and story within the story) entertaining and engaging, but this personal connection to the feel of it all has cemented it in my brain.