100 Books Like The Last Train to Zona Verde

This book hit me as both tragic and strangely hopeful.

Chris McCandless walked into the Alaskan wilderness with little more than a backpack and a stubborn streak, and people have argued ever since: was he brave, reckless, or just plain stupid? But his compulsion isn’t as rare as we might think. In my book, Cole feels the same tug—escape the sterile shoebox apartment and the $8 lattes. This can’t be all there is.

What drew me in wasn’t the verdict but his hunger for something real—stripping away every layer of artifice most of us cling to. Krakauer tells it with empathy and curiosity, letting you wrestle with the questions instead of handing you neatly typed answers. I recommend it because it forces you to stare down your own compromises: freedom versus responsibility, idealism versus pragmatism.

Admire Chris or dismiss him, you won’t forget him. And the story lingers like a… show more.

I love that this book does such a great job of capturing the many incongruities and quirks of life in South Africa, a country with such a complex, troubled history that it is still struggling to reconcile.

It’s a country of immense diversity (racially, politically, and culturally), which leads to some absurd situations. Some funny, some tragic. And it’s set against an incredibly unique and beautiful natural backdrop, and it’s at the bottom of the world, literally representing the global south/periphery. So there’s a ton of dramatic tension inherent.

I also relate with Noah’s story just in terms of the cross-cultural element; growing up with parents from different places and never quite fitting in. And yet he tackles these very serious, very bleak situations and experiences, at both the micro and macro levels, with humor.

I loved this book because it shows that the setting/particulars of the “journey” don’t actually matter.

It’s all about the author’s voice, perspective, and, in this case, their sense of humor. If these aspects are unique and engaging, it doesn’t matter where they went, or if you have any interest in seeing/doing those things for yourself.

I’ve always felt like I can resonate more with people that are willing to admit their fallibility, and even draw attention to/make light of it. To just how ignorant or clumsy or hapless or cowardly they are. I think that always makes for a better, more human story, a better connection with the reader.

On top of all this, I have a soft spot for the Appalachian Trail, since it crosses through Pennsylvania, only a few miles from where I grew up.

This book resonated with me because it’s the story of a journey. A journey of personal discovery and resilience.

I know what it’s like to lose loved ones. My whole family is gone. I know what’s it’s like to have the life you’ve led, the life you’ve believed in, be dismantled. And I know what it’s like to go on an expedition to find yourself again.

It doesn’t matter how that expedition takes form; the journey to find yourself again is powerful, and I’m still on that road.

The mere thought of this book makes me smile – I enjoyed its style, which was charming and nicely wacky. 

Environmental expert and nature writer Gerald Durrell details his extremely unusual upbringing, when his mother transported her four (untamed, wilful, contrasting, more than lively) children from England to Corfu – and this was decades ago, when few people did daring things like that. They plunged into a culture clash adventure – filled with much alarming wildlife in the house!

I loved how it was continually surprising. I don’t see how his mother put up with all of them. It’s all valiantly shambolic and funny. 

I always enjoy Bill Bryson’s stories, wherever he travels. He’s like my favorite funny uncle, and I never tire of hearing from him.

After a couple of decades as a Yank in the UK, he was going to move back home. First, he takes us on one last meandering trip all around the nation, to pay homage, to enjoy good memories, and to get amusingly grumpy about inconveniences. His sense of humor is self-effacing, silly, bungling, and very entertaining.  

I love his keen nose for the absurd differences between the two cultures, his collections of comedy place names, and the British slang phrases he never understood. I grew up in the USA but spent all my adult life in the UK, and this had me laughing out loud, frequently. 

I found myself riveted for the entire book.

I think the genre will always resonate with me; a young adult facing the prospect of monotonous regular life and deciding to go off into the wild. But I love more that the book subverts this. This sort of rite-of-passage trope is easily romanticized, but in practice, it can prove to be much more chastening and sobering than expected.

You’ve got to be careful what you wish for. True adventure might not be for everyone. Experiencing the dark underbelly of life at the borderlands of the civilized/developed world, where it’s every man for himself; where human nature’s worst impulses are left unchecked.

It also explores the futility of our core American values of expansion and domination of the world; how bleak and wasteful and brutal that process is in practice.

I love this essay for the same reason I love so much of DFW’s nonfiction. His voice is completely unique; unashamedly neurotic and over-analytical, to the extent that the stated objective of the trip (the piece is about his week on a cruise ship, which advertises guaranteed total relaxation, pampering, and convenience) is completely – and often comically – undermined.

It resonates with me because I’ve always had trouble with the whole “Just live in the moment!” shtick, so it was very inspiring/validating to discover someone who had made their being an outsider/misfit a strength. To see someone just be unashamedly themselves. So that’s what I took away.

Don’t keep your neuroticism and self-consciousness and eccentricity to yourself to try and seem “normal,” but actually lean into those things. Question things that nobody else seems to be questioning.

In this recent book from South Africa, a group of mostly African academics and lawyers, including some young researchers, examine the financial stresses that COVID put on the sovereign debt burden of countries in the Southern Africa Development Community (SADC), including studies of Mozambique, Namibia, South Africa, Zambia, and Zimbabwe.

The authors view the debt constraints on SADC governments from an economic, financial, and human rights perspective, domestically and in interacting with international institutions, including limits on available debt relief.

The book also contains proposals to evade such crises in the future, including in a chapter by your correspondent.

The book is available in French and Portuguese as well as English, and you can download a copy for free. What could be better? 

This book is all about the dark, foreboding atmosphere of its setting, a township in an isolated part of Walvis Bay, in Namibia. Dr. Clare Hart is a police profiler sent in to try to pin down the perpetrator of a gruesome crime against a teenage boy. For all Hart’s professional competence, her emotional and relationship skills are in doubt as her wavering romantic interest, Captain Reidwaan Faizal, arrives to lead the investigation. Fantastically well-observed, very dark, and beautifully written, you lose yourself in its fog-filled pages, but the journey is far from comfortable.