100 Books Like The Animal One Thousand Miles Long

When I first read this book, I couldn’t stop marveling over how much I didn’t know about this beautiful, complicated state that I call home—and how much I learned in just 200 pages. Now, I return every time I want to reinforce my understanding of why there are so many abandoned stone walls in the mountains, why there are no billboards, and what happened to the Peregrine falcons.

The authors are teachers and know how to keep it interesting, even when discussing tedious subjects like tectonic plates, highway commissioners, and population statistics. Noting that Vermont as we know it has only been around for about 225 years, they begin with a chapter about the continent’s formation more than a billion years ago and the centuries under an ice sheet before bringing us up to date with the mountains and rivers we know and love.

This context, along with the details… show more.

I’ve often wondered about the lives of the migrant farmworkers who come to Vermont, most often from Mexico, Guatemala, and Jamaica, but whom I only ever see in the grocery store checkout line or waiting at the service desk for cash transfers.

While it’s easy to idealize the rolling hills dotted with Holsteins, perfect for postcards and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream cartons, dairy is big business in Vermont, and, like everywhere in the US, many of our farmworkers are immigrants without legal protection. Language and cultural barriers, and their very real fears of deportation, keep these workers’ lives hidden. This book, which brings together nineteen stories of personal witness, told by immigrant workers and illustrated, graphic-novel-style, by local comics artists, goes a long way to change that. While there are some common themes—the dangers of crossing the desert, longing for home, working endless shifts in all weather—the stories are… show more.

I’ve been reading Castle Freeman’s stories and novels for many years, and I always go back for more of his small-town settings, his sheriffs and loggers, and the lingering sense of menace he brings to every situation. But most of all, I go back for the dialogue, which is particularly funny, absurd, and even sometimes wise in this short, propulsive novel.

There’s something of Beckett in how these characters’ talk goes nowhere and everywhere at once. In the closed-down mill of the Dead River Chair Company, a handful of retired or otherwise unemployed men provide commentary and insight on the fast-developing plot, in which a young woman comes to them for information about a man who’s been stalking her and eluding the law.

They set her up with a couple of seemingly hapless locals, who together track him down in an abandoned logging camp in the dark woods. Freeman grew… show more.

Various poetry collections have become important to me throughout my life, but if I had to choose a favorite poet and favorite book right now, it would be Voigt and Headwaters. Something new reveals itself each time I read this collection, and it is a particular thrill that so many aspects of a place I know show up in poems of such fierce beauty—the groundhogs and winter snows, the larch and birch and owls.

Voigt moves from one line to the next with such smooth velocity—not slowed down by a single piece of punctuation—that the tumbling forth of images, moods, memories, questions, and quips can create a whiplash effect of the most pleasing kind. A poem that begins with heavy frost and hibernation moves through insomnia, deception, and the pleasure of smoking, and by the end, I find myself marveling, how did we get here?

There’s really no point… show more.

I’ve read this book no less than five times, and it remains one of my all-time favorite books. Tartt’s literary style of writing is not only beautiful in its own right but becomes a tool to enrich the story that surrounds all things literary.

The idea of an exclusive New England college where you have the luxury of unabashedly studying the classics and taking school breaks in Italy is my ultimate idea of luxury. Where do I sign up?! Taking it a step further, the fact that these academic outcasts are stone-cold murderers hits my sweet spot.

This juxtaposition of elevation and depravation pulls me in every single time. When I went to college, I initially wanted to study criminal psychology, and this book is a perfect example of why.

I bought Blue Light Hours as a birthday gift for myself, without researching it.

The blue cover and the story of Bruna, an immigrant daughter, navigating her relationship with her loving mother, drew me in instinctively. I finished it in a single day, pulled into the quiet intensity of their bond.

The warmth and tenderness between Bruna and her mother, the anxious anticipation of reunion as her mother traveled miles, and the universal ways love expresses itself across distance and culture leapt off the pages and warmed my own heart. 

There’s a valid argument to be made that Shadowland is perhaps more of a horror novel than fantasy, but it’s never really out-and-out scary.

It’s certainly more magical than bloody, concerning two friends in the 1950s who spend a hallucinatory summer at an uncle’s place in the Vermont woods. And man do things get weird.

After a long, lovely prelude at a boarding school, Tom and Del have to navigate their failing friendship and the strange happenings in the woods, but most of all they have to look out for Del’s uncle Cole, an old-school magician who, it turns out, is far from an avuncular old guardian.

Full of fairy tales and fables and wonderful digressions (with Straub, the digressions are often the point), Shadowland feels timeless in a way Stephen King never does. It might be the best book I’ve ever read.

A childless couple adopts a chimpanzee named Looee, and you already know from reading that sentence that it will lead to trouble and heartbreak. After a few pages, I didn’t care. In McAdam’s skilled hands, the inevitable sadness doesn’t matter, because the delicately handled point of view perfectly captures a doomed creature trapped between two opposing identities. In contrast, we also meet Podo, an alpha chimp at a research facility seeking to test the intelligence of primates. Podo is fully ape, but he is turning into something more. Their paths soon join, taking them deeper into a gray area between human and animal that I had never seen rendered on the page so vividly before. 

This lovely story is one of loss, tragedy, hope, family, and new beginnings that come in the most unexpected ways.

Seventy-five-year-old Sarah has a good life. She’s been married to Charles, a man she adores, for fifty years. She assumes they will live out the rest of their lives together in the tranquil setting of their Vermont country home. But when Charles unexpectedly passes away, Sarah’s beautiful life is shattered.

With her children grown and raising families of their own, she finds herself alone in her big house, no one to nurture, no place to put her love. Until a collection of displaced characters begin to find shelter in her home. Working through her grief, Sarah discovers interests she never took the time to explore, and in pouring into others, soon finds her own cup overflowing. 

This story provides perspective on what things are important, and what are not. So… show more.

Many YA novels set in a theatrical environment are heavily romance-focused. This book is the best I’ve found in that category. The hero, recent high school graduate Cass, has a super-strong voice that made me laugh out loud. She’s snarky, off-color, bold, and impatient. The theater plotline weaves throughout the story as Cass and cohorts perform The Taming of the Shrew at a summer theater. She steals ideas from Shakespeare’s play to torment her costar and nemesis, Drew. 

Theater Quotient: High. Much of the plot revolves around rehearsals and elements of the play trickle into real life.