Here are 100 books that Third Class Relics fans have personally recommended if you like
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I’m the tenth kid in my family. I can’t think of a single part of my personality that wasn’t defined by my interactions with my siblings, then later their partners, and then later their children. The thing about family is that, yes, it’s a source of stress and even trauma, but I’ve also found it the truest path to not just meaning in life but something like salvation. I love stories that put us at that tipping point, in part because I think most of us live there, whether we realize it or not.
I love this book because it made me think about myself as a parent. The premise here is crazy simple—a gunman seems about to kill two girls but takes one, leaving the other. I felt horrible for Meredith, crushed by survivor’s guilt, but my real sympathies fell to her mom, Claire.
At that point in my life, my sons were adolescents, and I was viewing their healthy independence as something I was losing. I was totally taken by the heart-rich, wise exploration of what we do when someone we love goes somewhere we can’t follow.
The breakout novel from the critically acclaimed author of the short story collections Who I Was Supposed to Be and Why They Run the Way They Do—when a middle school girl is abducted in broad daylight, a fellow student and witness to the crime copes with the tragedy in unforgettable ways.
What happens to the girl left behind?
A masked man with a gun enters a sandwich shop in broad daylight, and Meredith Oliver finds herself ordered to the filthy floor, where she trembles face to face with her nemesis, Lisa Bellow—the most popular girl in her eighth grade…
A moving story of love, betrayal, and the enduring power of hope in the face of darkness.
German pianist Hedda Schlagel's world collapsed when her fiancé, Fritz, vanished after being sent to an enemy alien camp in the United States during the Great War. Fifteen years later, in 1932, Hedda…
I’m the tenth kid in my family. I can’t think of a single part of my personality that wasn’t defined by my interactions with my siblings, then later their partners, and then later their children. The thing about family is that, yes, it’s a source of stress and even trauma, but I’ve also found it the truest path to not just meaning in life but something like salvation. I love stories that put us at that tipping point, in part because I think most of us live there, whether we realize it or not.
I love this book because I don’t cry easily. Decades before the whole world knew Barbara Kingsolver as the Pulitzer-Prize-winning author of Demon Copperhead, I found a beat-up copy of this book at a thrift shop in Emmaus, Pennsylvania.
I bought it for a buck, and I’ve never spent a better dollar. I swooned to the simple story of Taylor, a teen fleeing home, and Turtle, the abandoned child who changes her life. The family they make is one of my favorite in all of literature.
The Bean Trees is bestselling author Barbara Kingsolver's first novel, now widely regarded as a modern classic. It is the charming, engrossing tale of rural Kentucky native Taylor Greer, who only wants to get away from her roots and avoid getting pregnant. She succeeds, but inherits a 3-year-old native-American little girl named Turtle along the way, and together, from Oklahoma to Tucson, Arizona, half-Cherokee Taylor and her charge search for a new life in the West.
Written with humour and pathos, this highly praised novel focuses on love and friendship, abandonment and belonging as Taylor, out of money and seemingly…
I’m the tenth kid in my family. I can’t think of a single part of my personality that wasn’t defined by my interactions with my siblings, then later their partners, and then later their children. The thing about family is that, yes, it’s a source of stress and even trauma, but I’ve also found it the truest path to not just meaning in life but something like salvation. I love stories that put us at that tipping point, in part because I think most of us live there, whether we realize it or not.
I love this book because it nearly made me miss my flight. I bought it after hearing the author at a conference in Baton Rouge and started it at the airport. My mistake. I was sucked in by the story, told in sumptuous, gorgeous prose, about a boy looking for the father he never knew.
But I found its true radiance in the unexpected discoveries he makes about the man who sired him and, of course, himself. (I finished it on a connecting flight late that night out of Houston. Totally worth it).
Harlow tells the story of eighteen-year-old Leslie Somers, who trudges his way through the dark Louisiana backwoods one winter in search of his father. As he walks through the woods, Leslie thinks of the other male role models in his life: the men who took him hunting and fishing, the men who mistreated him.
Since Leslie has been forsaken by his mother, he can only imagine a life with this man he has never met: his father, Harlow Cagwin. But when Leslie finally finds Harlow, the man is not what the boy had expected.
Coyote weather is the feral, hungry season, drought-stricken, and ready to catch fire. It’s 1967, and the American culture is violently remaking itself while the country is forcibly sending its young men to fight in a deeply unpopular war.
Jerry has stubbornly made no plans for the future because he…
I’m the tenth kid in my family. I can’t think of a single part of my personality that wasn’t defined by my interactions with my siblings, then later their partners, and then later their children. The thing about family is that, yes, it’s a source of stress and even trauma, but I’ve also found it the truest path to not just meaning in life but something like salvation. I love stories that put us at that tipping point, in part because I think most of us live there, whether we realize it or not.
I love this book because I think of it every time I go up on a ladder. That’s where Doug Merritt, the father of the family on the precipice here, goes when he needs to clear his mind.
I laughed out loud reading it, and more than once I found myself thinking about my own parenting, how the size and scope of that obligation is totally out of whack with your ability to influence kids at a certain point. Like I did with my sons, Merritt does his best to hold things together, and if he doesn’t entirely succeed, he sure as hell doesn’t fail. Maybe that’s enough.
Doug Merit's middle name is damage control. Working in public relations for GE, he's ready for any challenge: a teenaged son who still plays with trains, a thirteen-year-old daughter who hasn't spoken to him in six months, a first-grader who is a little too devoted to animal rights, and a wife who just might have whispered a month or two ago she didn't love him. No problem! He's got it covered.
But the events set in motion on a snowy night will put Doug's carefully constructed version of reality to the test.
I retired from a district attorney’s office as a victim witness specialist and a paralegal, where I saw a disturbing side of humanity with too many female victims. There were rarely any winners on either side. Reading mysteries with strong female leads gave me hope. A dash of humor didn’t hurt, either. After a long day of vicarious trauma, it was a treat to hide behind my computer in the evenings and write cozy mysteries, where I tied up the end of the story with a pretty pink bow and where there was a winner. I’m hooked!
This mystery had all the elements I enjoy—a strong female lead who becomes the village sheriff, a mix of interesting and well-developed characters, a quaint but unusual village— Whispering Pines—that made me long to be there, a good mystery, and a dog as a sidekick.
It’s a paranormal cozy with lots of “witchy” activity that I typically won’t read, but I loved this one! It captivated me from beginning to end.
If you love small-towns with quirky characters, slow-burn romances, and witchy mysteries this is the series for you.
Welcome to Whispering Pines, Wisconsin. A place for those who don't belong.
Sixteen years after a family feud drove her from the cozy Northwoods village of Whispering Pines, Wisconsin, former detective Jayne O'Shea returns to prepare her grandparents' lake house for sale. Once there, not only does she find that the house has been trashed, her dog discovers a dead body in the backyard. Jayne intends to stay out of it, but when it becomes obvious the sheriff isn't interested in investigating…
Twenty-one years ago, I moved off the grid. As a city-dweller who didn't even go camping, I'd never considered myself a country woman, but I felt called to the woods. I wanted to learn practical skills like how to split wood and bake bread, and I wanted to reduce my carbon footprint. Now, because of our lifestyle, we don't run microwaves, toasters, or dishwashers, and it’s been 20 years since I’ve had a clothes dryer. Living this way has changed me. My relationship with the environment has evolved over the years, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop learning about the different ways experiences in nature can help us humans to grow.
I love how this book starts—a young mother escaping her seemingly perfect life in the middle of the night, wearing a nightgown with infant in tow. Rachel Clayborne drives through the night to her grandmother’s lake house in northern Wisconsin, where we learn all the ways that being reasonable has led her to a miserable life.
Hassinger is particularly skilled at describing those intimate moments between a nursing mother and her young, and her protagonist, Rachael, is achingly aware of what she gave up to gain this wonderful experience of motherhood. One of my favorite scenes between Rachel and her first love, Joe, culminates with him telling her, “Did it ever occur to you that you can’t always get what you want? Even if you know what that is?” I love a story that grapples with that.
Undone by motherhood, judged by her husband, thirty-two-year-old Rachel Clayborne flees with her baby in the middle of the night for the one place on earth that's been her refuge: her grandmother's lakehouse in northern Wisconsin. Hoping to reconnect with a former, healthier self, she instead faces a confused and dying grandmother, her ever-present nurse who seems bent on thwarting each of Rachel's desires, and a changed ex-boyfriend-her first and most passionate love. As a constant rain threatens the nearby dam, Rachel struggles to discern what's happened to the past, who she's become, and what kind of a life she…
Homeless following the death of his adoptive parents in a car crash and the subsequent loss of their farm tenancy, Seb decides to enrol as a residential student at the Asklepios Foundation, a College of Natural Medicine, boasting a sanctuary modelled on an ancient Greek healing temple. Spending a night…
Author Greil Marcus’ phrase “the old, weird America” gave me exactly the right words for something I’ve always felt: that there is a specific weirdness to the American landscape, an uncontrollable current of strange that runs beneath the carefully cultivated surface of heroes and neighbors and shared, stable dreams. Of course, as William Faulkner observed, the past isn’t past, and America is as weird as it’s ever been. Maybe weirder. Look at the news. Look out your window. No surprise, then, that I’m drawn to such a perspective when I read other people’s stories, and seldom get completely away from it when I write my own.
A stunning assembly of archival photographs and newspaper clippings from Jackson County, Wisconsin, in the last decade and a half of the 19th century, and the definitive explanation of why nobody in old-time photographs is ever smiling—and, I choose to believe, the real reason the parts of The Wizard of Oz set in Kansas were filmed in black and white. Economic privation, unceasing bereavement, disease both physical and mental—in other words, Tuesday. Was there any joy in Jackson County? Somewhere, I’m sure. What’s documented here is a stark, powerful beauty. The most real book I’ve ever encountered, and one of two on face-out display on my bookshelves.
This book is about life in a small turn-of-the-century Wisconsin town. Lesy has collected and arranged photographs taken between 1890 and 1910. Against these are juxtaposed excerpts from the Badger State Banner, from the Mendota State (asylum) Record Book, and occasionally quotations from the writings of Hamlin Garland and Glenway Wescott.
I’ve written books for kids of all ages, and always there were birds. Sparrows singing on windowsills, cardinals arrowing across yards, cormorants diving into Lake Erie, pigeons poking beneath park benches. Those things with feathers make my own heart sing! Slowly it dawned on me that I wanted to write a book where birds didn’t just flit across the pages but nested at the story’s heart. I had to do a lot of bird research for Perfect. What I learned about the precious, fragile bonds among all Earth’s creatures became one of the book’s themes: big and small, bound by gravity or able to defy it, we are all deeply connected.
Because…I love language, and Timberlake spins out one gorgeous sentence after another.
Set in 1871, the story follows Georgie Burkhardt as she tracks her big sister, who’s run away with “pigeoners”, a seedy bunch who follow the migration of passenger pigeons (which once existed in the millions but were hunted to extinction). Georgie’s voice is tough, funny, and wildly original, just like the West itself.
There’s plenty of mystery and suspense, but for me, it’s about the language! Here’s the glorious ending: “I say let all the world be alive and overwhelmingly so. Let the sky be pressed to bursting with wings, beaks, pumping hearts and driving muscles. Let it be noisy. Let it be a mess. Then let me find my allotted space. Let me feel how I bump up against every other living thing on this earth.”
Winner of the Edgar Allan Poe Award for Best Juvenile Novel
“An adventure, a mystery, and a love song to the natural world. . . . Run out and read it. Right now.”—Newbery Medalist Karen Cushman
In the town of Placid, Wisconsin, in 1871, Georgie Burkhardt is known for two things: her uncanny aim with a rifle and her habit of speaking her mind plainly.
But when Georgie blurts out something she shouldn't, her older sister Agatha flees, running off with a pack of "pigeoners" trailing the passenger pigeon migration. And…
Because sometimes I think they go further than the formulas set by traditional publishing. I love fantasy and similar genres because there are no limits for the imagination. The books I’ve chosen fulfill what I think is important – world-building, imagination, thought-provoking, intelligent, and wonderful characters on a mission of some kind.
I’ve read all of this author’s work and the Rushed series is my favourite because although it’s a sinister paranormal fantasy, it is filled with humour. The world-building for each book is amazing – certainly daunting and nasty in parts, yet believable.
There are remarks in reviews that it’s confusing and weird, so maybe you have to be odd to understand and appreciate it. I did, so I must be.
Eric can't remember the recurring dream that keeps waking him in the middle of the night with an overwhelming urge to leave, yet he spends each day feeling as if he desperately needs to be somewhere. With no idea how to cure himself of this odd compulsion, he decides to let it take its course and go for a drive, hoping that once he proves to himself that there is nowhere to go, he can return to his normal life. Instead, he finds himself hurled headlong into a nightmare adventure across a fractured Wisconsin as the dream reveals itself one…
Marriage and Fatherhood in the Nazi SS
by
Amy Carney,
When I was writing this book, several of my friends jokingly called it the Nazi baby book, with one insisting it would make a great title. Nazi Babies – admittedly, that is a catchy title, but that’s not exactly what my book is about. SS babies would be slightly more…
My favorite books as a child were the ones where kids went off on wild, impossible adventures alone, figuring things out, learning important lessons, and finding they were more capable than they thought. Wisdom, truth, insight, inspiration… those are the treasures found in these fantastical places. I’ve written (and told) stories all my life, but it wasn’t until I was in my fifties that my goal of publishing a book was realized. And now I have four more coming out (Lord willing!) within the next year and a half. It’s never too late. Unless you’re dead, then you blew it. So don’t stop trying, whatever your goals are.
While again, it’s not a magical world, it might as well have been. I was transported and transfixed to a different time and place. I could smell the linen baking dry in the sun as it hung in the open air and open fires that crackled and sparked as bacon sizzled on a cast iron pan. I shivered as they woke up one morning covered in a blanket of snow. I tasted the Christmas orange that was received with such joyful excitement. It made me want to like fruit–which, sadly, didn’t stick.
More importantly, it made me recognize the beauty of being grateful for things I took for granted. The mark of a good story is if you want to read it again as an adult, and I’ve read and reread this series more than once.
Classic tales by Laura Ingalls Wilder about life on the frontier and America's best-loved pioneer family.
Inside the little house in the Big Woods live the Ingalls family: Ma, Pa, Mary, Laura and baby Carrie. Outside the little house are the wild animals: the bears and the bees, the deer and the wolves. This is the classic tale of how they live together, in harmony mostly, but sometimes in fear ...
The timeless stories that inspired a TV series can now be read by a new generation of children. Readers who loved Anne of Green Gables, Little Women,…
