Books like The Quickening — picked by fans

This story is a twist on a familiar Lewis Carroll tale.

It is unsettling in a dementia-like way, spinning the reader from the known into the unknown with just enough of the old story to keep them from tipping completely off balance, hope and dark humor always alive. 

This book helped me with the twisting of fact and fiction in my own books, where I used many of my own family incidents (and fears), but gave them to fictional characters with their own generational slant.

The moment I started reading this book, its tone gripped me instantly.

It fearlessly presents challenging and daunting situations with a mix of wit and courage. Darkly observant, the story unfolds with a blend of humour, fondness, and a hint of irony, making "The Leisure Seeker" a bittersweet fable of the golden years.

The book fearlessly confronts the realities and indignities of aging and disease, yet it doesn't fail to celebrate life, embracing every precious moment left in the lives of the characters, even if they are old geezers.

While the subject matter could lead to a somber narrative, the book takes an unexpected turn, becoming a genuinely life-affirming and highly entertaining tale, defying the omnipresent shadow of mortality.

As a kid, I loved this funny and frightening book about the terrible things that happen to bratty children (the same could be inferred for bratty octogenarians).

I’m sure my parents hoped these tales would encourage more reasonable behavior. Instead, these tales set me on a path to writing dark stories. In this case, the contrast of humor and the horrifying is addictive, and characters in any kind of book that combine these traits are always compelling.

The illustrations in the version published by John C. Winston Company are particularly quirky, increasing the impact of each story. This book probably had more influence on my book than I realized during the writing.

In 1948, my life focused on horses, and this was my favorite book.

Pictures were always a plus since dyslexia (though undiagnosed at that point) made reading difficult.

I have no memory of how well the book might have been written. Most likely I didn’t care, never suspecting I’d become a writer. I lived and worked on a farm, eventually running a boarding stable.

The book didn’t have the horror or the humor, but Lightning’s gratifying story of achievement gave me hope for the future, unlike Black Beauty which filled me with horror. I couldn’t read it to my children.

His hideous treatment overwhelmed me, yet the first two books I wrote were even darker.

Obviously, Hannah is a brilliant writer.

She checks all the boxes that I hunt for in thirties fiction. The Great Depression, family, and the persistent drive of a protagonist (Elsa) to survive in the midst of harsh adversity. I love when an author paints vivid word pictures of this era, and Hannah does a superb job (as usual).

I want to feel the thirties, to actually mentally become a participant in experiencing what the characters experience. Hannah does just that.

You’d have a hard time finding a funnier, more captivating first-person narrator than D.J. Swank. Growing up on her family’s farm, hoisting hay bales, and playing pick-up football with her brothers, it’s no wonder D.J. has the strength, ability, and desire to play on her high school’s football team. The two things I love most about this book are D.J.’s sheer joy in physical movement and Murdock’s depiction of how the hard work required to master sports skills can build self-confidence and a sense of achievement in young people. The characters are a bit older than those in most middle-grade books, but with nothing more controversial than the drinking of a beer, this is a book kids in the upper range of middle grade will love.

This graphic novel is based on Lucy’s real life. It’s about a girl who begrudgingly moves from her home in the city to the country to live with her mom’s new boyfriend and share a bedroom with his daughters. I love this one because when you’re a kid, so many things are out of your control, and grown-ups are the ones making decisions for you. Sometimes, kids are forced to learn a whole new way of life. Stepping Stones is a great depiction of that experience—an experience I can relate to as someone whose mom remarried and then had to move towns and schools. I love how the main character, Jen, is terrible at math but has to handle money at the farmer’s market. She spends the summer persevering through her math troubles, her embarrassment related to it, and her new family and farm work expectations. 

Christian Schwarz deftly creates a rising tension between two sisters who are torn apart by secrets. Ruth gradually pieces together memories from her childhood, bringing the story to a climax when her secrets are revealed and the consequences come to pass. This story was one I read and studied multiple times during my journey to publication.

We are blessed right now with an abundance of farmers who have good stories to tell. Three hill farmers stand out: John Lewis-Stempel, James Rebanks, and Patrick Laurie, whose Native is so lyrical that it reads at times like a prose poem by Seamus Heaney. Laurie’s book is an account, season by season, of his relationship with a roughish bit of land in southwest Scotland. It is part love affair with his small farm, and the curlews and native Galloway cattle in which he has an obsessional interest, and part critique of modern farming and the industrial timber production that threatens much of the open moorland. Native is worth reading just for the quality of the prose, even if you’re not remotely interested in countryside matters.

All of Robert Heinlein's YA novels are good (better, in my opinion, than his adult novels), but this one has special meaning for me because it was the first book I ever read about colonizing an uninhabited world. At the time it was published in 1950 I was sixteen and had been enthusiastic about the possibility of space travel for four years, since long before the general public was familiar with it; but all the space fiction I knew of was about mere adventure, usually adventure focused on fighting. The idea that families could someday settle a new planet--and, despite danger and hardship, accomplish something of immense importance to the future of humankind--made a strong impression on me and became one of my deepest convictions.