Books like Up a Road Slowly

When curating a list of whimsical book recommendations, one must surely start with the epitome of whimsy herself, Miss Anne Shirley!

With her big words, vast scope for imagination, and appreciation for nature's marvels, Anne with an E is one of my favorite fictional bosom friends. A true kindred spirit, I could visit daily without tiring of her poetical musings.

I love how Anne matures as a character while still maintaining her sense of wonder, and I love how her wonder—her whimsical ability to see a simple lake as an enchanting Lake of Shining Waters—inspires me to romance my own life and search for the wondrous cloaked in the familiar.  

I have always loved the image of Jo March hiding up in the attic (she calls it a “garret” because it’s more romantic) of her family’s New England house, munching on russet apples and writing furiously away with her pet rat, Scrabble, as her muse, or curling up with Jane Eyre—it’s the only place she can be alone.

She’s one of the classic aspiring young writers of literature—a totally unconventional, headstrong girl with big ambitions who has provided inspiration for her real-life counterparts for generations, me included.

This book has so many different elements—humor, the struggles of poverty, Cassandra’s dreams of success as a writer, quirky family members, and a tumbledown castle where the Mortmain family lives.

I identified with Cassandra’s efforts to keep a journal to hone her writing skills, having done so myself as a teen. I also enjoyed the unconventional take on a castle and Cassandra’s honesty in depicting (or “capturing”) it and its inhabitants with her words.

The dilapidated castle and the family’s foibles make this story approachable and enjoyable. It is one that invites the reader into the castle and the story as a welcome guest.

If you’re a kindred spirit who’s never read this book, now is the time. This is an empowering story about defining oneself despite the small boxes that others attempt to place us in. It is the tale of setting out to find yourself and living the life you want.

As a plus, Montgomery’s unequaled descriptions of the natural world of Ontario’s Muskoka region are a balm and respite. I never tire of returning to this novel because I love the personal growth of the heroine, Valancy Stirling, the unexpected twists and turns, and Montgomery’s dry humor and beautiful prose. 

Pat Conroy was a master at conjuring characters and writing stories chock-full of emotion. Heck, even the way he describes his beloved state of South Carolina makes it seem like one of the characters in his novels. (Truth: I made my family go to South Carolina one summer after binge-reading Pat Conroy’s books.)

If forced to choose which of his novels is my favorite, I’d have to go with South Broad. With a lead character named Leopold Bloom, you just know it’s going to be good 😊 As Leopold’s life is defined by unimaginable tragedy, he is drawn to a group of outsiders in school. This unlikely band of friends experiences two decades of poignant, life-changing moments together.

Love, loss, and grief are prevalent in this novel, but there is also total hilarity as the bonds of friendship overcome disappointment and heartbreak.  

The cover made me buy it, and the writing made me love it. An unexpected amateur sleuth, a mere teenager trying to find his missing sister, is the crux of this story filled with captivating characters and constant go-go-go. The entire plot blew my mind with its twists and tensions and completely unexpected angles. I highly recommend this revered mystery/thriller/suspense novel set during the Age of Aquarius—1968 in Laguna Beach, California. 

I love this book because of Judy Blume’s gift for rendering deeply truthful portrayals of coming-of-age stories.

Judy Blume does not shy away from the gritty aspects of growing up and portraying sex in all its awkward and, sometimes, embarrassing glory. I love that the characters do not get a “happy ever after” just to end the book on a positive note. The characters have complex lives and there is no line between love and hate, only a grey, messy soup of emotions that feels so real, your skin will prickle with goosebumps as you follow along.

I am especially fond of the story’s two timelines, which allow the reader to feel all the angst of coming-of-age while also experiencing the repercussions in adulthood.

This was one of the best books about werewolves—that isn’t really about werewolves—I have ever read. The story is told from the perspective of an unnamed boy who lives with his aunt and uncle—who happen to be werewolves—and the struggles he and his family face while living on the edge of society to avoid discovery.

What fascinated me the most was that Jones created entirely new werewolf lore with its own culture, rituals, and traditions, and it all felt real. I loved the non-linear timeline following the boy from 8 to 16, yearning to change like his aunt and uncle. Jones encapsulated the real difficulties of living on the fringes of society for whatever reason. It’s a dark book, raw and visceral, but also really funny. 

The sardonic humor is what grabbed me first. But as I gleefully zipped through this story of a lesbian’s coming of age in a repressive Pentecostal church, the author was quietly raising the stakes. She delivers profound observations of how family expectations disproportionately damage queer people. Religion always complicates such stories.

As a gay man who grew up Catholic, I was entranced by how the book deals with faith. When the protagonist starts to understand her own sexual impulses, the power and depth of human emotion also dawn on her. Her religion and family don’t have satisfying answers, and so she creates her own kind of faith. Reading how she does it was incredibly moving for me. 

I have a soft spot for characters who find strength by dint of superhuman effort, and the way this fifteen-year-old takes charge after the 1906 earthquake—haltingly, uncertainly, as is only plausible—makes me wish I’d met her.

Her path is steeper than the San Francisco hills, yet her refusal to ask for pity wins me over. I also admire how Edgarian uses her protagonist’s coming of age to represent San Francisco’s, a parallel delivered with a light touch.

But above all, the novel explores the fraught relation between women and power; and how Vera walks that tightrope makes compelling fiction.