100 Books Like The Wings of Night

I rooted for nearly every character in the book, despite their being ornery survivors who might be a little too fractious and independent-minded to enjoy as neighbors. The one exception was a devious and self-serving guy, proving that good stories need contrasts.

The book reads more like a set of linked stories than a straight novel. St. Pierre spins engaging tales that deliver a unique combination of earthy humor and a fine portrayal of the ranch country of the central interior of British Columbia.

I loved this book because I loved the characters. Richards invested them with dignity even when they were flawed or endlessly frustrated by fate. They can go through life largely unnoticed except by their closest acquaintances and relatives. But they offer hope despite their failures and tragedies.

This was the first novel in Richards’ Miramichi Trilogy. It and the two subsequent novels, plus much of Richards’ later work, create a strong sense of the province of New Brunswick, even when the characters have a universal quality.

A rich mix here: humor, mild suspense, serious themes encompassing Jewishness and the fallout of the Nazis’ mass murder of European Jews, and cautionary themes about obsessions and the dangers of hero worship. The background setting is a Montreal neighborhood Richler grew up in, knew well, and happily depicted.

Some of Richler’s other novels also describe Montreal and some of its people. You could argue that Barney’s Version and Solomon Gursky Was Here are better books overall. I particularly liked this one because it has a youthful verve and adventurous feel.

The descriptions of interpreting aerial reconnaissance photos during the Second World War were interesting. But the real hook for me was the compelling portrayal of small-town Saskatchewan life in the 1940s. The heroine—and the book does have a streak of chick lit about it—sounded like the real people I met while working as a reporter in Saskatchewan during the mid-1970s. Her hometown was recognizable, too. I keep hoping some of the spirit of these places and their people will survive well into the 2000s.

This book is an eye-opening account of how the history of Nova Scotia became distorted in the interest of attracting tourists. This manufactured history exalts whiteness and masculinity, and quietly excludes ethnic minorities and women. The Yarmouth runestone, which is adduced as evidence that the Norse landed in Yarmouth, is an important artefact in this ideological history, and the authors give an excellent account of its history and its place in tourist history. 

This is a classic in rural education.

A highly respected rural education researcher, Corbett documents the educational practices that, while well-intentioned, may contribute to rural depopulation: if rural schools do their jobs well, they are often preparing rural youth for an adult life lived elsewhere.

Still, though, for many rural youth, college remains elusive. As Corbett writes, with typical eloquence, “Higher education remains ‘invisible’ training for invisible jobs in an elsewhere economy…”

With complexity and nuance, this book captures the many dilemmas facing rural youth, families, and teachers, as well as the high costs of higher education for rural communities. My copy is a rainbow of sticky notes and highlights: I consulted it often when writing my book.

This was my go-to resource on several occasions when I was researching for my book.

While it concentrates on the work of 19th-century photographers based in southwestern Nova Scotia, the wealth of information gleaned from the captions and the photos themselves made this paperback invaluable to me. Indeed, anyone interested in streetscapes, domestic and public architecture, shipping, transportation, and so much more in Yarmouth town and county, will certainly appreciate this compendium.

I received this handsome hardcover book as a gift, and I’ve been entertained and educated every time I’ve opened it.

It contains over 1,000 entries and 300 visuals that not only depict notable Nova Scotians but also scandals, newsworthy events, and celebrations. I’ve been inspired by some of the daily entries to research them further, which has enhanced my three novels that are set in Nova Scotia.

When Robert MacNeil’s debut novel Burden of Desire was published in 1992, it stood out to me because it offered a fresh take on the Halifax (Nova Scotia) Explosion of 1917 as a backdrop to his compelling love-triangle storyline.

The Explosion was the largest man-made disaster in the world prior to World War II, and every school child in Nova Scotia, including myself, traditionally learns of the Explosion by reading Barometer Rising, Hugh MacLennan’s iconic novel that was published in 1941.

But MacNeil’s novel proves that historical fiction can be spicy and entertaining as well as truthful to its time period and setting. He is well-remembered as a television journalist for his long-running PBS show, the MacNeil Lehrer Report. Mr. MacNeil is now 92 years young.

The best kind of books are books that are your friends, aren’t they? As a reader, I usually feel connected to characters and don’t think much about authors (and I feel this is how it should be. I think once they leave an author’s hands, books belong to the reader!) but in this case, I also feel like Lucy Maude and I are kindred spirits. We both had two imaginary friends growing up, after all. That’s enough to make us BFF’s, right? 😉 Anyway, I have visited with all my Anne book friends many times, but the one I always come back to is Anne of the Island. This is probably because I love a slow-burn romance, and this is the book where Anne and Gilbert finally get together. After three books of will-they-won’t-they banter the payoff is totally worth it! (And on a side note, would this book… show more.