Books like The Hopes of Snakes

This is a beautifully written book that immediately brought me into Helen’s world of grief and uncertainty.

Her decision to take on a stubborn goshawk named Mabel seems at first to unnecessarily complicate her struggle to cope with her father’s death.

As the author trains Mabel, the scenes become so compelling that I found myself flipping pages as if I were reading a thriller. Mabel’s stubbornness, beauty, and wild independence fly off the page.

While there has been some controversy about the science in Simard’s book, there’s no doubt that it’s a great read that juxtaposes Simard’s personal life with her scientific life.

I was drawn to her personal story, which takes place in both government and academic spheres. I cried with her when her brother passed away, and I was proud with her when her daughter said she might want to study forestry at university.

The mix of science and memoir works well in this book, showing how the two are inextricably entwined. I was impressed by how hard Simard worked to keep her family together, particularly when she was a professor at UBC in Vancouver, and they were living in Nelson.  

I particularly appreciated the author's evidence-based management approach. It was refreshing that the author showed that we can be optimistic about solving the many challenges our planet faces. It is important not to think and work in terms of doom and gloom or slogans, but with data.

As a data scientist, Hannah Ritchie illustrates how problems such as climate change, deforestation, biodiversity, plastic in oceans, etc., can be solved. With the available data, you can then work out solutions.

The book is illustrated with many graphs and tables.

I don’t think there’s anything as hopeful as patience, and it is patience that supports poet and farmer Scott Chaskey’s reflections on leaving England for a small Long Island land trust and helping it grow into one of the first community-supported agriculture (CSA) farms in the United States.

Seasons, patience, and a love of land and words have created a fertile farm and a thriving human community alongside an abundance of birds and wildlife. I return to this book every decade or so (I’ve had it for that long), when I think I know my life but what I truly need is to be re-enchanted by Chaskey’s poetry and food-growing, his life-long apprenticeship to the beauty alongside us.

Anyone who has ever worked in the food or hospitality industry—as a cook, a waitress, a hostess, a barista, or otherwise—can identify with this book.

The restaurant business is a different beast, and Anthony Bourdain took a huge risk in writing this and burning bridges with his bosses and coworkers. But in doing so, he unlocked the universal hidden language that food and hospitality workers share.

As a former hostess/waitress myself who spent most of her college years with a part-time job at IHOP and the Golden Waffle, I could relate to a lot of what Bourdain experienced working in NYC, especially with minority groups and how they were treated during that time. He was a huge inspiration to a lot of people, including me. 

Tough Jews is a short history of Jewish-American gangsters and their Italian colleagues with whom they made common cause. It is here for the first time that we understand why Arnold Rothstein was the most important gangster in America. Having introduced "organized" into organized crime, he promised underworld figures the help of the famous attorney William Fallon if they landed in trouble and agreed to look after their families if they got sent up the Hudson (to Sing Sing). I am struck by the fact that Cohen makes his history personal, by means of his own contacts with the people who know the inside story of how the Jewish gangsters thrived—or didn't. He sits down with them; he eats with them; and he gets them to remember how it once was in the days of Dutch Schultz, Legs Diamond, and Arnold Rothstein.

We read several popular novels that explore competitive school environments. One of the best in this sub-genre is Small Admissions, by Amy Poeppel, which provides a fictional glimpse into the cut-throat world of Manhattan prep school admissions and ultra-competitive parents. Poeppel crafts a fun, wicked read with sharp dialogue. We could easily imagine what would happen when the children in Small Admissions apply to college…their parents would fit in well with the characters in our book.

If you want to understand the struggle Jews like me face in modern America, read this classic novel.

Two Jewish boys—one secular and the other expected to follow in his father’s footsteps as a Chasidic rabbi—grow up in 1940s Brooklyn against the backdrop of World War II and the founding of Israel. It shows the conflict we face between family expectations and assimilating in a country where we don’t feel fully welcome.

This is post-modern crime fiction thematically linked and all with increasingly unreliable characters—because they’re each going insane.

In City of Glass private investigator, Daniel Quinn, goes mad sinking deeper into an investigation about identity. Who is telling his story and can they be relied on? Is it any of these characters who appear: ‘the author,’ ‘Paul Auster the writer,’ ‘Paul Auster the detective’? Whoosh.

I love this stuff but understand it’s an acquired taste!

I love this book because it’s the best fictional example I’ve ever seen of a character’s disability being eclipsed by his talent. Lincoln Rhyme is paralyzed, but his talent as a criminologist is far more important—and Deaver showcases Rhyme’s genius and passion as often as he details the difficulties of disability.

I find the book’s mystery compelling and the characters well-written, and I couldn’t get enough of the relationship between Lincoln Rhyme and Amelia Sachs. I’ve never seen a better portrayal of a partnership based solidly on mutual respect and admiration. I’m so grateful for how this story demonstrates that disability doesn’t need to stop you from making a real impact through the gifts and talents you’ve been given.