Books like This Cold Heaven — picked by fans

This chronicle of arctic life and landscape enchanted me from the beginning.

Here is the true story of Christiane Ritter, an Austrian painter with no outdoor experience who travels to the remote northern coast of Svalbard to spend the winter of 1933-34 with her scientist husband.

Ritter’s frank voice and wry humor drew me right in; at first, she’s hilariously unimpressed by the pack ice and endless snow! But soon she’s deeply transformed by the same things that inspire me to write about the far north: the land’s vast scale, the aurora borealis, arctic foxes, and night skies brimming with stars.

A few weeks into winter’s polar night she describes herself as “moonstruck” and the following rapturous chapters kept me breathlessly reading until the end.

This may be a surprise coming from a historical novelist, but near-future dystopian stories are among my favorites, and Migrations is a great example of why I love this genre.

The novel’s magic is in showing all we could lose if we don’t protect our planet’s biodiversity, including in the polar regions. It is a haunting page-turner about a troubled protagonist who sets off by boat from Greenland to follow what could be the very last migration of arctic terns – birds with the longest known migratory path in the world.

There’s no way around it: Migrations is bleak. But its finely drawn characters and emotional impact make it a masterful work of eco-fiction that has undoubtedly sparked action among its readers to help reduce the destructive forces the book depicts.

As a writer obsessed with folklore and magical realist fiction, I adore this book!

Based loosely on the Russian fairy tale of the same name, The Snow Child is set in 1920s Alaska and balances the ethereal arrival of a magical child with the harsh reality faced by homesteaders in an unforgiving landscape. My favorite elements in this book are also primary themes I aspire to in my own writing: characters who face hardship with grit, perseverance, and a deep connection to their wild home. 

The author was born and raised in Alaska, and you can tell by the detail and specificity in her writing. In this novel, the natural world truly is the main character, to breathtaking effect.

This novel grabs you by the collar and won’t let go (and that’s a very good thing)!

I was riveted from the first page by the book’s powerful blend of fiction, memoir, and myth, which illuminates the life of a contemporary Inuk girl coming of age. Author Tanya Tagaq is a renowned throat singer from Ikaluktutiak, Nunavut, whose writing is as profoundly moving as her music.

I love how this book balances the kaleidoscopic world of a girl coming of age – including violent, dark events, tender moments, and the elemental histories and contemporary disruptions that connect Inuit culture to its ancestral landscapes as well as the present moment.

Marie Herbert’s book is exceptional as it documents a period of time in the life of an Arctic explorer’s wife. Marie didn’t stay at home when her husband Wally Herbert travelled to the far north of Greenland to live with the Inuit. She went with him. In addition to the incredible insights Marie records about Inuit life in the harsh Arctic during her time on Herbert Island, The Snow People is a very personal book for me. Marie Herbert wrote the acknowledgments for the book in May 1973. I was born in August of the same year, and thirty-seven years later I would stare at the same island from my kitchen window when I lived in Greenland. A truly magical and, for me, prophetic read.

My copy of Génsbøl’s nature guide is well-thumbed. I often used it to find out what I was eating. That’s right; it is a nature guide, packed with fabulous illustrations–better than photographs–that allow for easy identification of the flora and fauna of Greenland, but I also used it to identify what I was eating when invited to an Inuit hunter’s kaffemik–a celebration of culture, tradition, and food wrapped up in a birthday or child’s confirmation party. The guide is an indispensable companion for anyone travelling to the Arctic, and Greenland in particular. But it is equally enjoyable, perhaps even more so, when sitting in a favourite armchair with a favourite beverage in familiar surroundings, dreaming of the far north.

I tracked down a 1973 hardback edition of this book because I fell in love with it. The publication date, the year of my birth, was an added bonus. I borrowed Lowenstein’s translation of material collected by Knud Rasmussen, the famous polar explorer, from the library. As soon as I read the preface, I knew I had to own it. It’s an owning kind of book. Inuit poems are raw like the environment they are birthed in – the words and the people. Some might call the poems simplistic, but having lived in the Arctic, I know that even the simplest things can be challenging, and often life-threatening. The poems in this book capture another world that is so very far removed from our own and yet startlingly vibrant and important. 

I have re-read this multiple times and still love the cold menace of this literary thriller set in Copenhagen and Greenland.

Høeg didn’t just bring the icy landscapes to life—he also opened up a whole new world of Inuit culture and life in the Arctic seas. I loved learning all these quirky facts, like the many names the Inuit have for the different types of snow.

I also adore his anti-heroine Smilla, who is a fascinating blend of contradictions: ruthless, analytical, and blunt to the point of rudeness, she is also noble, brilliant, and unexpectedly compassionate. One of my all-time favourite characters.  

Inuit and Danish in heritage, Knud Rasmussen is one of the major stars of Arctic research. He led one of the most famous explorations of northern Canada, The Fifth Thule Expedition, and documented the lives and culture of the people who lived there.

This modern biography doesn’t have the drama and excitement of firsthand accounts, but it’s comprehensive and well-written. It has many interesting details of the lives of both Rasmussen and Peter Freuchen. Additionally, it gives readers a look at the larger context of politics and exploration in the first half of the 20th century.  

I feel heartbroken about this story of the Inuit guides who were a part of Robert Perry’s expedition to the North Pole.  I feel gratitude that the expedition’s shadow side has been revealed in this intimate narrative.

It makes me wonder how many untold polar history stories are yet to be uncovered.