82 Books Like Wild Life

Pyle is a leading butterfly expert and a brilliant natural history writer. And he happens to be bigfoot-curious. As am I. The past few years have seen Sasquatch—at least images of the mythical-or-not-mythical beast—cropping up widely in this region, usually to try to sell something. Pyle takes it more seriously, without being boring or sensationalist. In this telling, Pyle packs his rig with camping gear (and plenty of IPA) and—with his expansive knowledge of nature, his keen skills of observation (of all species, us included), and his humor—heads into southwest Washington’s Dark Divide to try to clear up what, exactly, he heard decades earlier on a camping trip in this remote corner of Cascadia. As to what he finds, you be the judge. 

Reading this book was an act of both admiration and agony, admiration for the courage of the author to look where no one else was looking, to take huge physical risks, and to prevail, and agony because I longed every moment to have the ability to myself ascend the world’s tallest trees and meet the life that lives, separated forever from the ground, at their very tops.

Everything about this book is poetry of the best kind because it’s also true.

This biography from a small academic publisher takes readers to a place in-between: the Oregon Coast at the turn of the 19th century, as native people and their culture were being displaced by white settlers. It tells the story of Annie Miner Peterson, a Miluk Coos Indian woman who became a minor celebrity among anthropologists and linguists. She was born in the days when “the passage of time was marked by fish and leaves;" upon her death in 1939, “the Miluk language became extinct.” It’s a sensitive and unflinching portrait of a memorable woman navigating her fraught era.

Kirkpatrick is a prolific writer of historical novels, often romantic, often deemed “inspirational.” I’m not a big fan of the genre, but her story about Cassie Simpson, a compelling and compellingly flawed woman who ditched her husband and kid in 1899 in Washington to take up with her lover on the shores of Coos Bay, where he was helping to build a shipping and logging empire, gave me a whole new way of looking at that place today. And, by extension, other port towns on the Northwest coast. And, by extension, the difficulty, and price paid, of being a woman in the early years of the 20th century who chose an unconventional life and paid some heavy dues for it.

I read this novel in one sitting, swept up and carried away to a world I never knew and a place I’ve never been: New Zealand’s West Coast, a rough and rugged land where after just five days in the country, the entire Chamberlain family disappears.

With the parents dead, what will become of the children? And what will they do to survive? Complicated moral choices elevate this richly drawn, intensely atmospheric, and absolutely stunning story of loss and endurance.

This book takes readers into the swamps of Florida where wild things eat people. I’m a huge fan of Carl Hiaasen, Dave Barry, and John D. McDonald, all of whom write (or wrote in the case of McDonald) about south Florida. So it’s great to find a YA book for boys set in the Everglades. Like with most of Tim’s books, the characters push the boundaries of what they know to be right, but do not cross the line. Boys take chances. Or at least the boys I grew up with did. We explore the outdoors, go it alone, test things, break things, and often get trapped in situations of our own making. Escape from the Everglades allows me to enjoy being a kid again without, you know, getting gobbled by a gator.

This book is the bushcraft classic. Although it focuses on northern bushcraft, most of the information in it is very useful in other areas of the world.

Many important techniques and skills are covered in this book that are applicable to wilderness survival and wilderness living. The legendary author was one of the most well-respected survival instructors in the world.

I personally cherish this book due to the level of detail and depth of the subjects covered. Whenever I read it I can always feel that a great deal of experience and research stands behind what is written.

Although set in a near-future America, I related to the way these two sisters had to live, conserving electricity and resources, running a generator, and always having to think carefully about whether to drive the 30 miles into town. Most haunting to me were the scenes where Eva, a dedicated dancer, practiced over and over an audition routine without the benefit of music, having to rely on the soundtrack in her head.

These two women were at the precipice of their adult lives, just beginning to actualize their talents, when they experienced a societal collapse. As the reader going along with them, it made me think about priorities, relationships, and who I would be without modern technology.  

I love the grittiness of this—an account of a walk along the South West Coast path, when terminal illness and poverty haunt the walkers and everything is in a state of flux.

It doesn’t glamorize the walk; it’s often uncomfortable with lots of biting wind and pouring rain. At times, there are even threats from others they come across who are sleeping rough. Overall, it’s a description of nature at its most raw and authentic.

Although we glimpse moments of inspiration and beauty, I like the fact, as well, that it doesn’t have a big, blowsy Hollywood ending—at the close, the future appears uncertain, although there is a definite sense that a new energy has been discovered.

It ends on a simple, perfect moment as the author describes her and her husband as “lightly salted blackberries hanging in the summer sun” and adds significantly that’s “all that is… show more.

Two decades ago, I was preparing for my first book promotion trip to Australia and New Zealand. I asked my (Aussie) publisher to recommend two books to learn more about Australia and its history.

The first was In A Sunburned Country, by Bill Bryson, which I had heard of. The second was Cooper’s Creek, which I hadn’t. It’s a stunning, scary, edge-of-your-seat short history about an expedition in 1860 that set out from Melbourne into the vast, empty, broiling interior of the country, with the mission to find a route to the lush northern coast. Needless to say, things didn’t go as planned.

The book is taken from first-hand accounts by the explorers, and is novel-like in its dramatic twists and turns.