Books like The Betsy-Tacy Treasury — picked by fans

They’re the fictionalized account of the author’s childhood growing up in Deep Valley, Minnesota, and my mom introduced me to these books when I was about nine or so. She’d read them growing up and I reread them constantly into my teens and then every few years as an adult whenever I needed the literary equivalent of hot chocolate and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. I realize these books are not in the genres I write, but inspiration doesn’t always come from obvious places. 

With biting satire and elegiac prose, Main Street is the paragon of stories set in small towns.

Author Sinclair Lewis was obviously not enamored of small towns, and like Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio, is perhaps exorcising some demons from his own upbringing. Nevertheless, perhaps unable to help himself, he instills his protagonist, Carol Milford (Kennicott) with a “Never give up” small town value. At the end she is undaunted. Even though she’s been stifled at nearly every turn, in her own words she has “kept the faith.”

I love the work of Sinclair Lewis. I based the character of July Huffaker in Delphic Oracle, U.S.A. on Elmer Gantry, and when I taught in medical schools, kept copies of Arrowsmith in my office that I gave to students and residents interested in a career in academic medicine. “Read this,” I told them. “If you still want in, come talk to… show more.

In 1985, back when I had only one job at a time, we bought our first house, a 70-year-old, two-story monster built back when it was in the good part of town. The next Saturday evening, I heard something and investigated.

The guy next door was leaning back in a chair, his feet propped on the porch rail, sipping a glass of iced tea, and listening to a radio show. And thus, I discovered Garrison Keillor and Lake Wobegon. 

I recognized the people. I grew up with them in Fred, Texas. They hang out at the Sidetrack Tap and the Chatterbox Café. They shop at Ralph's Pretty Good Grocery, and the women get their hair done at the Curl Up and Dye.

The first chapter is written in a style I call Midwestern stream of consciousness. Read it and you’ll know whether you want to read the rest. I read… show more.

Sigurd Olson’s book is the most beautifully written and profound evocation of the utter beauty of the Quetico-Superior wilderness that I have ever read. Olson finds wonder and astonishment everywhere: trees, lakes, rivers, wildlife, and birds; the sound of rain; “laughing loons,” the signature sound of the North Country; falling leaves and bobcat trails.

I have read this entire book twice, and each time, I have learned more about appreciating the beauty of the wild. Each chapter is a unique lesson in seeing, hearing, and—most importantly—learning how to appreciate the wild and immerse oneself within it while leaving it intact. 

This author was new to me, and I fell in love! The characters are rich, quirky, and distinctive. I was intrigued by the supernatural element. The story drew me in immediately, and I couldn’t put the book down. I loved how it ended.

I felt like I’d spent time with complicated friends who conquered their demons. It satisfied what I crave most from any book: intrigue, interesting, unpredictable characters that must peel away the layers the deeper I go, seemingly insurmountable obstacles that are eventually overcome, and a satisfying ending. I would equate the feel of this read to spending quality time with best friends, enjoying a steak cooked to perfection with roast potatoes crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. And, of course, chocolate mousse sprinkled with hazelnuts for dessert.

This beautiful short novel about various matters, including chickens, house cleaning, idiosyncratic neighbors and parents, is funny—really, how can you not laugh at a hen named Miss Hennepin Country.  (Her owners live in Minnesota.)

Also, the novel goes to the heart of the grief of infertility. At the same time, Jackie Polzin is very, very funny in a remarkably quiet way. Her writing is spare, eloquent, and precise. She is, as we say in the biz, The Real Deal. I can open this book at any page and marvel and be filled with happiness.  

In Rez Life, David Treuer, an Ojibwe from the Leech Lake Reservation, shows us the real-life consequences of historical events and policy. Through scholarship and anecdote, Treuer teaches readers what it really means to be Native American in a country that has tried, time and again, to erase them. Rez Life is not the history book rendition of past wrongs and tragic events. Instead, it is an articulate, expressive look at the people who live with the legacy of those past wrongs and tragic events. It shows readers the Native Americans they won’t see in history books—the ones that exist today, fighting to overcome the trauma thrust upon them.

Gary Clayton Anderson is one of the foremost authorities on the complex and complicated history of the U.S. – Dakota War. In his latest book, Massacre in Minnesota, Anderson relies on his knowledge of the conflict and his skill as a historian to create an objective, thorough look at Minnesota’s watershed historical event. Anderson, who’s been writing about the U.S. – Dakota War and its participants since the 1980s, guides readers through the events with expert explanations and a multitude of perspectives. He also shows growth and maturity by revising his language and viewpoint to fit the understanding of contemporary scholarship. Massacre in Minnesota is an easy-to-follow, comprehensive look at a tragedy we’re still trying so hard to understand.    

This book is one of many Mary Higgins Clark books I read in my early teens, but this particular one has stayed with me. It is a domestic noir, somewhat a tale of how never to rush into a marriage with someone you hardly know. Added to this is the peril of involving small children.

I really liked this book–it terrified me beyond belief, but I think this is why it has stayed with me. That first look perhaps at the psychopath hiding in plain sight, appearing to all the world like a safe, kind person, but inside, totally damaged and deadly. Superb.

John Sandford’s books aren’t as “literary” as those written by Mick Herron or Richard Price, but I love his books for their pacing—they always start out with a bang—and for Sandford’s sense of humor. I also admire the way he’s aged the recurring characters in the Prey books, taking Lucas Davenport from a young man in his thirties to the age of almost sixty in the last book. You can’t go wrong with any of the thirty-plus books in the Prey series, and I’m holding my breath for the next one.