Books like The Bridge of San Luis Rey — picked by fans

Overstuffed and labyrinthine, Eco’s novel dives into a highly academic rabbit hole of conspiracy theories that toss me head over heels like a strong wave in the ocean. It reads a bit like The DaVinci Code written by Thomas Pynchon (who we’ll get to in a minute), the paranoias stemming from historical entities like the Knights Templar and the Rosicrucians.

I’d be hard-pressed to provide an accurate summary of events, but it all makes for a pleasantly bewildering reading experience.

The book tells the story of a man who believes that his dreams influence reality. I loved it because it was strange and intriguing, mind-bending and surreal. Nothing was permanent, and even reality itself was questionable.

Ursula Le Guin explores the issues of climate change and overpopulation, pollution and the destruction of the environment though the characters’ personal experiences. She tackles racism and shows how one's life experiences shape their personality. The question of whether the end justifies the means keeps recurring in the narrative.

I love books that explore how ordinary people might react in extraordinary circumstances, and this one takes that to another level.

The main characters, Tengo and Aomame, see that the world has changed—the most obvious clue being that there are now two moons in the sky—and it is fascinating to watch how these two very different people cope with living in a new and mysterious context. Murakami has a knack for making the surreal seem believable, and in this book, he is at the top of his game.

I have very seldom read a book with a protagonist I so wanted to win the day as Katherine Webb, the main character in Andrew Butters’s novel. She’s deeply inspiring—brave, compassionate, steadfast, loyal, and intelligent. She faces the challenges she meets without flinching, rebelling against a system designed to stifle individuality, creativity, and freedom of thought.

I kept putting myself in her place, wondering what I’d do if I lived in the planned, repressive society she inhabits. I can only hope I’d do as well.

Any understanding of transport networks across the Isthmus (road, river, railroad, and Canal) must consider the conquest of the Inca Empire.

MacQuarrie’s book illustrates how Panama was the staging ground for Pizarro’s small band of entrepreneurs who conquered the largest empire ever in the Americas. And, later, how the gold and silver from Peru was transported back to Spain across Panama.

Moreover, the book details how a bloody civil war between the conquerors almost cost them the fruits of their original victory. All of this set the stage for what would later come to much of Latin America.

María Elena Moyano is perhaps the most fascinating Latin American historical figure you haven’t heard of. A Black activist, feminist, and community organizer, Moyano led a brave and suicidal campaign for peace against the Shining Path, a fearsome guerrilla group that brought Peru to its knees in the 1980s and early 90s. Moyano describes, in her own beautiful prose, her meteoric rise as a champion of the urban poor, political leader, and women’s rights warrior. She speaks candidly of her repudiation of the “terror of the Shining Path,” and of the group’s obsession with smearing her good name. Diana Miloslavic’s illustrative annotations help further humanize Moyano and contextualize her sacrifice, offering a moving portrait of the woman popularly known as “Mother Courage.”

A Parrot Without a Name is the tale of a quest as primitive and compelling as any grail search from medieval legend. It’s the story of John O’Neill and Theodore Parker, two of the 20th century’s most accomplished birders and ornithologists, and their pursuit of the least known and most elusive birds in the whole of South America. Parker, whose death in a small plane crash in the Ecuadorian mountains cut off one of the most famous and unique escapades in birding – he ended up knowing and recording the calls of more than 4000 bird species – shows up as a colorful character with all the quirks of other great scientific iconoclasts such as Alan Turing and Robert Oppenheimer. 

I love books that take me to other worlds, and The Copper Egg does not disappoint. Peru! As the heroine searches for a lost treasure, the readers get to learn all about ancient Peru. It’s a great adventure and so well researched. It had me Googling the web to learn more. There is also a fun romance and a dastardly villain. Think Indiana Jones goes LGBTQ2+. What’s not to like? 

Few scholars possess the ability to take complex historical situations and present them in a manner that is equal parts educational, palatable, and engaging. Brooke Larson is one of those rare talents. When I was in graduate school, I devoured Larson’s Cochabamba, and soon found myself looking to get my hands on anything authored by her. Needless to say, I was eager to read Trials of Nation Making when it was released. I was not disappointed. This wonderfully engaging history examines the role that race and ethnicity played in the framing, founding, and forming of Andean republics, where Creole elites sought to solve the so-called “Indian Problem.” But this is no top-down history. As Larson masterfully illustrates, Indigenous historical actors employed a range of strategies—from legal action to open rebellion—to demand participation in nation-making processes.  

This is a wonderful, sophisticated yet accessible book that provides readers with a vivid community study that is also a wide-ranging introduction to the anthropology of religion. The title refers to a small adobe house in the community of Rapaz that serves as a temple for religious practices directed to sacred mountains. Each chapter explores aspects of the temple and related ritual practices from a different theoretical vantage point, in order to “put before students’ eyes one case, an Andean temple, and treat it as an example for pondering the possibly pan-human matter of sacred ritual” (p.9). It’s beautifully written, personal and thought-provoking.