77 Books Like The Compass Rose

This was probably one of the most intense experiences with non-linear storytelling I ever had, and that did something to me I could not have predicted.

In fact, while reading this book, I started to turn the story into something of a philosophical discourse in my head. 

I really like how this book is at the same time utterly insane in parts—and I do say that with the greatest respect, it‘s the good kind of insane—while at the same time, it explores themes of dealing with earth-shattering events on a very individual level.

For me, the icing on the cake is that Kurt Vonnegut manages to even mix in a little history lesson there, because that bombing of the prisoners in Dresden? That did happen. And I didn‘t even learn about it in school—I learned it from this novel!

And speaking of, who better than Le Guin to inspire sci-fi and fantasy stories that are truly unexpected? Dispatches from Anarres, edited by Susan DeFreitas, is an anthology of stories by Northwest authors, all inspired by and in tribute to Le Guin, and the offerings are rich and unique. Like Michelle Ruiz Keil’s poetic war cry of ghost cats in “The Kingdom of the Belly,” Jason LaPier’s fascinating tale of the life of a bee colony—with some of the coolest names I’ve encountered in fantasy—in “Bee, Keeper,” and Stevan Allred’s clever Ib and Nib folk-story interludes. I read much of this book in an ER waiting room as my husband was being examined and then treated for a scary collapsed lung, and the uniqueness of these stories kept me beautifully distracted.

I read Sequoia Nagamatsu’s Where We Go When All We Were is Gone on audiobook, having picked it up knowing nothing about it. The first story opens on a wildlife refuge where experts protect and study… Godzilla. Mothra. And other wonderful monsters of Japanese pop culture. Right then and there, I knew this was going to be a favorite book. Nagamatsu’s stories are nonstop rampant imagination, from the man who can stretch his neck and send his head on long journeys in secrecy via the sewer (!), to the clone child that emerges from an underwater cave—but as much as I can fall in love with a book for its creativity, Where We Go goes deeper, often centering its tales on grief and loss. This short collection is equal parts droll and poignant, fun, and devastating.

I love time travel stories—and Every Anxious Wave is my favorite. What would you do if you discovered your own personal wormhole that would allow you go anywhere, anywhen? Well of course you’d set up shop as an agency that takes clients through time and space to… see their favorite bands play! From this unique premise, Daviau’s novel widens into not only a heck of a musical time-travel good time but also a moving story of human connection. Oh, and some great commentary on climate change to boot. A deceptively deep but thoroughly fun wild ride.

If you’re struggling to find the right plot progression, this book helps with tips on how to map out the storyline. It’s helped me tremendously in several of my own novels. Any writer who cares about making an exceptional plot should have this book in their personal library.

Amateur sleuths tend to be drawn from the professional or upper classes—Miss Marple, Lord Peter Wimsey, even my own Hon Cressida Fawcett—so it’s refreshing to solve cases with Lena Szarka, a Hungarian cleaner who has a clear moral compass and a way of finding out exactly what’s lurking in the dirty laundry—both literal and metaphorical. Headstrong, big of heart, and desperate to solve the death of her friend, Lena can spot a smudgy fingerprint at fifty paces. This book is the first in a limited series and well worth settling down with—just put a coaster under your mug and pick up your own biscuit crumbs, else Lena might have a word…

There are similarities between this novel and mine – the woman at its heart is an American named Lilia, she’s had adventures, and she is taking stock. But then the fascinating differences begin. She is 81, not 57; she’s had marriages and children; above all, the narrative about Lilia is only one layer of the story, as within the book is another book, the diary of a man she had an affair with when very young, and she annotates his revelations with her own. This resonant novel’s strata – like limestone folds, the sediment of a life brought back to the surface – give Lilia, initially hard and sharp, more and more texture as the story unfolds.

I’d be afraid to meet this detective, Slater, in a dark alley, as he’s unpredictable and has a quick temper. At the same time I have to admit he’s the kind of guy I’d want to date. Smart and competent in his investigative work, Slater is a mass of contradictions, a textbook sex addict and in complete denial about it, plus he drinks too much. His pugilistic approach to the world evolves through the series, and in this book his slightly warped moral compass has him working to outsmart the cops to track down a violent conspiracy theorist.

I do NOT want to be a bug in this world, but I’m glad cartoon ant Rubi is here to walk us through it. The author is a real-life biologist, and it shows—this comic takes readers through the realistic world of ants, the things that ants eat, and the creatures that eat ants. There’s poop, bug dismemberment, and an unsettling amount of talk about parasites—but it’s all conveyed through the charming antics of a cute little cartoon storyteller.

This book gives me strong Calvin and Hobbes vibes, and I don’t make that comparison lightly. The humor and heart of the storytelling, paired with scientific detail, make it a rare find. Despite the slightly grotesque content, the playful tone and cartoonish style keep it light and engaging.

I think this book could turn even the most bug-averse kid into an entomologist-in-training! Early readers might need some assistance to get through it,… show more.

Remember when I said ant books come in all sizes? Well, The Ants is a big book, as in large and heavy. It’s also a definitive text that won the Pulitzer Prize for general non-fiction in 1991. I used it for research for my book and it was also the inspiration for the ant book that Harvard and Nevaeh use to study ants in my novel. Edward Wilson was an American biologist, and his specialty was the study of ants. He was nicknamed the “ant man”.