Books like The Slovenians

I had just moved to Slovenia when I saw this book in the window of a bookshop in Ljubljana. I immediately bought it and devoured the prose, going cover to cover in just two days. So little has been written about Slovenia in English, and I was hungry for insight into the country I would call home for many years. 

The book is a mix; it's part guidebook, part insightful essays on aspects of Slovenian life, such as education, the film industry, and publishing. It is also part personal memoir, with anecdotes about the author's wedding day, for example. 

I was looking for an overview of the country, and Slovenology certainly provides that. If you're seeking a light, functional, and interesting read about Slovenia, this book is a really good place to start.

In contrast to Slovenology, this book digs deeper into Slovenia. A memoir by an American who moved to the country in the mid-1990s after falling for a handsome Slovene poet, Debeljak tells the story of her life as she takes on the head-twisting nature of Slovenian, and gets to grips with a culture that is often quite different to that of her homeland. 

Debeljak does not hold back on personal details, and I loved how she pours her heart into the story, sharing so much of her inner feelings with us. She also writes with humor and beauty. I think Slovenia has changed quite a lot since Debeljak's story, but it's still a great read for any Slovenia fan.

Though I'd seen this book advertised, it took a recommendation from a Slovenian to make me read it. And I'm glad I did. Blake, a Canadian author who's lived in Slovenia for many years, has done an excellent job documenting what makes Slovenians–Slovene. 

It's an informative and frequently funny look at the country and its people. I found myself chuckling at many of the behaviors Blake notes that I had personally experienced myself.

With its undercurrent of dry humor and its overview of the people, this is a must-have book for anyone interested in understanding Slovenians.

As a fan of both Slovenia and the mountains, this book was a real treat. Written by a Canadian author, it’s an excellent account of the rise of Slovenian climbers during a golden era in the 1970s and ‘80s, who quickly became some of the most respected alpinists in the world.

Although it focuses on stories of high peaks, north faces, first ascents, and avalanches, it's set in a background of life in Slovenia, largely during the Yugoslav era. I found this insight fascinating, and it helped me to understand more about the Slovenian love of high places and what draws so many Slovenes to their numerous summits. A very enjoyable read–well-researched and written. 

Zala is a young sheep that lives in the countryside of Slovenia and she LOVES dragons. Her dream is to be one someday, and she sets out on a quest across Slovenia to find a real dragon. Her journey takes her far and wide. She crossed the lake to a medieval town called Radovijica, and then on to Ljubljana and walked along the canals. Images and sculptures of dragons follow her on her journey. Finally, in a cave far away, she finds a creature they call a dragon, and they become fast friends together. 

The art has a wonderful and soft watercolor and cut paper feel to it. The story takes the reader across Slovenia and even has a glossary of words in the back. A great and imaginative story for young children.

I am Slovene-American, my mother being off the boat. This book told me what I’d wanted to know: how my people engaged with the world around them, not just physically, but metaphysically. Anyone interested in understanding the way folk belief mixed with medicine, and why people would resort to beliefs we would view strange in modern day, could learn quite a bit from this book about the rural folk of Slovenia and their medicine.

It’s also a key resource for one fantasy book I still have in the works, which is reminiscent of Arden’s The Bear and the Nightingale, and it is a wonderful anthropological resource that shows, very plainly, how magic is alive in this world as much as it is in the fictional ones we love so much.

The sources found in Collective Identities illustrate how national ideas were received, fashioned, and conveyed by thinkers in many parts of Europe during the modern era. Each volume also includes a number of opening essays and chapter introductions which provide helpful references to additional foundational texts and matters of historical context. In sum, the volumes perform the very valuable service of introducing readers to some common elements in many ‘discourses’ from the period as well as important local variations in style and content.

I loved Mary Norton’s book for its narrative hook: size. This is Gulliver’s Lilliput without the satiric political overtones. The main characters are a miniature Edwardian family called the Clocks because they live underneath one. The father, Pod, his wife, Homily, and their daughter, Arietty, are so small they fit under the floorboards of a human-sized house.

All their ingenuity is devoted to adapting their smallness to the world of Big People while preventing them from being “seen” by them. Everything they use must be “borrowed” from the bigger world and adapted to their circumstances. Matchboxes become dressers and chests of drawers; postage stamps serve as wall hangings and pictures; a thimble does duty as a soup tureen, while an actual tureen becomes a bathtub.

The discovery of a fully furnished doll’s house has become an occasion for wholesale redecoration. A crisis comes when Arietty is “seen” by the human… show more.

George Mallory’s disputed ascent of Everest hardly qualifies as “little known history,” but I couldn’t do a top 5 list on historical fiction and not include it. You can tell from the details that Ridout is obsessed with this story. Mallory’s efforts on the climb are perfectly juxtapositioned against his wife’s less glamourous but no less difficult task of holding the family together in his absence. The novel thrives as an exploration of the intense pressure that Mallory’s final Everest attempt placed on both.

No mystery I’ve read has better captured how a chronic condition can redefine your sense of self better than The Black Hour.

This book hooked me on the first page, where we are introduced to Amelia, a sociology professor who is returning to work after being shot by a student the previous year. We witness her struggling to walk up a hill she used to climb without a second thought, and now it’s Mount Everest. She’s simultaneously vulnerable, determined, defiant, and just plain in pain.

Having a chronic illness myself, what makes this book resonate with me is the way Amelia constantly compares her post-injury self to her pre-injury self and must come to terms with the distance between those two versions.