100 Books Like Venomous Lumpsucker

Alexander von Humboldt’s name is synonymous with scientific discovery today–the Humboldt Current, the Humboldt Redwoods State Park, and countless species named for him. Humboldt revolutionized our modern understanding of the natural sciences–geology, biology, meteorology, and much else–with his epic five-year voyage that set off in 1799 and brought him through the Amazon, the Caribbean, and North and South America. 

Like Malaspina before him, Humboldt studied not only the flora and fauna of these regions but also their peoples and the political turmoil that was building towards revolution. He met with the leaders of the time–Thomas Jefferson and Simón Bolívar among them–and opened their eyes to the richness of their lands. Unlike Malaspina, Humboldt’s works were published to wide acclaim and established the idea that all nature, including human nature, is interconnected. 

First of all, how could anyone not love a book with an author’s name like that?

This book was on display mere inches from me while I was signing books at an exceptionally enchanting indie bookstore called Sudden Fiction in Castle Rock, Colorado. I couldn’t wait for the signing to be over so I could get a copy for myself. And it did not disappoint, the contents being as beguiling as the cover. 

Sheldrake describes not only the incredible and seemingly irrepressible capacity fungi have for survival and thrival (yep, I made that word up), but also encourages us to practice the same spells. I may have to become a mycologist in my next iteration – it’s good to remake oneself every few months, I think.

I was in Parliament Square at Samhain, 31 Oct 2018, when the Extinction Rebellion began. Greta Thunberg spoke there, but the mic broke so she paused at every sentence for the front rank to call out her words to those behind. The potent archetype of a virgin girl-child speaking truth to power worked its traditional magic, by exalting a thousand people, including me. Fast-forward a few years, and millions on the streets, and this little book condenses the motivation and message of climate activism: “Everyone and everything needs to change. Make the best available science the heart of politics and democracy. We must start today. We have no more excuses.” Greta offers everything important that we have been trying to say for decades. She encourages us to unify our divided minds and purposes. To me this is worthy of the most passionate engagement.

This book hurled me into a compassionate and respectful understanding of puffins, gannets, fulmars, cormorants, and other seabirds, and their varied and extraordinary relationships with the world ocean and its winds and sea cliffs. It left me aware of huge gaps in my perception of these different worlds, of the otherness and perfection of seabirds, and of my own species' abuse of such wonders. It re-set my standard for beautiful writing, and for appreciating the feeling of standing against a gale above the sea while surrounded by creatures who are truly at home there.

I am in awe of this book! I think it’s close to perfect, if not perfect. The detective here is Meyer Landsman, who “only has two moods: working and dead.” The novel is set in an alternate history that imagines Sitka, Alaska as a sprawling, Yiddish-speaking metropolis where all the Jews have fled after World War II.

The dead body is a mysterious young drug addict with connections to Sitka’s seedy underbelly. The story is a page-turner, but the sentences are truly incredible. It’s also very funny. I keep returning to this book year after year and every time it blows me away.

What if we could detect psychopaths? Like many of Sawyer’s novels (and there are a bunch I could’ve selected for this list), there is a question and then a lightning strike of answers. Not a single bolt, but many, branching off, colliding, bleaching the night. There is plenty of scientific realism here–a personal must for Sawyer–resulting in a far-reaching yet intimate story.

The title is not ‘Night of the Psychopaths’ because the book’s many forks take us deeper into the nature of the human mind and the quantum arena we all play in, whether we know it or not. Oh, and it is still fun, adventuresome, and easier to read than I may have made it sound with all that deep, introspective stuff.

What if our willpower was a commodity? Ok, it kind of already is, right? I spent thousands of hours in a cubicle, having my soul sipped on. But making will semi-tangible and directly transferable got me thinking about the ‘power of self’ in a whole different way, which is only one of the many delights of this novel. There is also a mystery, political struggle, wonderful world-building, and a tense examination of goal orientation.

This is technically a fantasy novel, but labels are like nutritional guidelines. Who’s to say what a serving size is? Who’s to say fantasy can’t be speculative, probing, and–when it comes to human interaction–as real as hardcore sci-fi? Not me. I want a second or third helping of Islington.

What if elevator inspectors had their own influential guild? Not science fiction, not fantasy, and not even alternative history. Just a riveting, delightful, challenging ‘what if’ that does not fit in a box. In a shaft. In a skyscraper. When I first heard about this book, I thought elevator inspection might be, let’s say, resistant to novel-sized interrogation.

To this, I now say, behold the umbrella that fits in the purse or the king-sized mattress that arrives in a toddler-sized box. This book unfolds and puffs up deliberately and warmly, and eventually, you find yourself curled up, reading about the very nature of thought. In a person. In a society. You don’t want to turn out the light and stop. 

This middle-grade satire was one of my favorite reads of 2021! In the not-too-distant future, seventh-grader Ahab and his friends discover what just might be the last living bullfrog in the United States. Hoping to save the species, they decide not to give Alph the frog to authorities. Instead, the crew takes off on a not-quite legal bike trip to find a mate for Alph. In the process, author Madelyn Rosenberg shows us the world as it might be, if we don’t make an effort to save the climate. A bumbling environmental police force and indoor theme park/recreation center had me giggling, even as I got the message of this brilliant climate fiction novel.

This book was another library find I had to immediately purchase as soon as I finished reading it.

Rundell’s descriptions of the creatures she chooses to feature are each an enchantment of their own. I confess a particular attachment to the Golden Mole, a bioluminescent mammal who lives completely underground in Africa, and whom I had no idea existed prior to her introduction. 

This book, like many of the others, teeters on a precipice between despair and horror but tightropes its way across, fueled by a beautiful hope. I expected a book about spectacular animals on the brink of extinction to be a grim read, but I found the opposite to be true. 

Brimming with the fierce sort of optimism that moves mountains, this book charmed, delighted, enchanted, and inspired me. I wish I’d had it to read to my children when they were younger and still at my mercy.