Books like The Brief History of the Dead — picked by fans

I shared a love of ghost stories with my mother and we often recommended them to each other.

But Mum had a thing for ghost stories set in the Arctic winter, with its killing cold and six months of darkness. She reckoned that, as a setting for ghostly goings-on, it couldn’t be beaten.

I wish I could still give her a copy of Dark Matter. She would have read it in a sitting. A wonderful evocation of the disturbing power of darkness, cold, and isolation.

Like Brockmeier’s book, this book is in my top-five all-time novels. I can fall in love with a novel purely for its language, and Barrett’s ability to describe the settings her characters encounter is unparalleled. It, too, has a rare polar setting, this time aboard the ship the Narwhal bound for the Arctic in 1855 to find the remains of a previous, lost expedition. So visceral are her descriptions that they put me right back in the Arctic.

She’s also masterful at interleaving science and history with her characters’ desires without becoming didactic. One of her protagonists, the scholar-naturalist Erasmus Darwin Wells, screens the world and his philosophical musings through the lens of his scientific inclinations. I admire novels that manage to teach me something while not feeling as if the author is desperate to cram all the research s/he has acquired into the book. Barrett succeeds in avoiding this… show more.

I’m obsessed with the story of S. A. Andrée and his ill-fated attempt to sail over the North Pole in the balloon Eagle in 1897. My bookshelf is jammed with non-fictional accounts of this flight—and the tragedy that befell the three men aboard.

Because much is unknown about exactly what happened to these men, Sundman created this fictional story of the flight, from its takeoff on Danes Island on the western side of Svalbard to the balloon’s crash onto the ice near the North Pole to the men’s perilous journey over ice ending on Kvitøya (White Island) on the eastern side of Svalbard. Doubly tragic: they were so painfully close to salvation but unable to cross the sea to a more hospitable landing site on Svalbard.

I’m also incredibly curious about why explorers risk their lives for uncertain gain. This novel helps reveal the daring but also narcissistic motivations of… show more.

I enjoy the “based on a true story” feel of this novel, even though it’s purely a product of Harding’s imagination. A historical novel set in 1616, the story centers upon a headstrong English whaler—Thomas Cave—who, on a bet, stays behind alone on an Arctic island in the Svalbard archipelago to endure the dark season. More threatening than carving out an existence in a forbidding environment is the effect of isolation on Cave, whom we see through excerpts from his diary. 

I hadn’t realized until I wrote this list how possessed I am by novels set in extreme environments and also—not surprisingly—ones whose themes arise from that obsession: the nature of loneliness and the effects of isolation. I’m a fan of layered narratives as well—akin to the kind of framed narrative found in Heart of Darkness.

Cave’s diary entries are embedded within the voice of a first-person narrator who… show more.

This is a book I related to closely because I have paddled in northern Canada for weeks at a time and am well aware of the biting black flies, wind in your face, and fickle weather. 

It tells the story of a 600-mile paddle from a camp along the Canadian border that trained wilderness paddlers, starting as young as twelve. This trip was the capstone of the camp's training and consisted of six late-teenagers and one experienced guide. The trip faced many unexpected challenges, including ice flows and packs of slush too thick to go through but too soft to wade on. As usual, I am experiencing these obstacles right along with them and assessing the options. With considerable ingenuity, the boys manage to push and drag the canoes, fully loaded with gear, through the pack and keep going. In one stretch, it rained for four days in a row.… show more.

Charlotte Drummond is a sort of anti-Carrie Simpson: same era, but fictional and feminist, living on the lower Columbia River. She joins a search for a girl lost from a remote logging camp and discovers more than she bargained for. There’s so much to love in this quiet novel, mainly the vivid and unflashy rendering of landscape and unfolding of memorable characters.

And, bigfoot. 

Although set in a near-future America, I related to the way these two sisters had to live, conserving electricity and resources, running a generator, and always having to think carefully about whether to drive the 30 miles into town. Most haunting to me were the scenes where Eva, a dedicated dancer, practiced over and over an audition routine without the benefit of music, having to rely on the soundtrack in her head.

These two women were at the precipice of their adult lives, just beginning to actualize their talents, when they experienced a societal collapse. As the reader going along with them, it made me think about priorities, relationships, and who I would be without modern technology.  

I may be an outlier, but I will assert that this is Elizabeth Gilbert’s greatest book. I think the lively realness of her literary voice and gift for human insight was most transcendent telling this story (and what a story!) that was not her own.

Not a week goes by that I don’t think about Eustace Conway’s description of how nature is a circle and our life in the modern world is made of boxes. That, and the entirety of The Last American Man, changed my worldview forever.

Survival books these days tend to be more flash and gimmicks than qualify information, just selling an author’s image rather than providing practical, valuable tools that can be immediately put to use by any inquisitive and motivated reader. Brown not only eschews such silliness, but he also provides the information in a tone and with an attitude sadly unusual in the genre and at large, inspiring curiosity, awe, and respect for the world around us rather than a clumsy attempt to dominate it.

This book takes readers into the swamps of Florida where wild things eat people. I’m a huge fan of Carl Hiaasen, Dave Barry, and John D. McDonald, all of whom write (or wrote in the case of McDonald) about south Florida. So it’s great to find a YA book for boys set in the Everglades. Like with most of Tim’s books, the characters push the boundaries of what they know to be right, but do not cross the line. Boys take chances. Or at least the boys I grew up with did. We explore the outdoors, go it alone, test things, break things, and often get trapped in situations of our own making. Escape from the Everglades allows me to enjoy being a kid again without, you know, getting gobbled by a gator.