Books that imagine the future fascinate me—Station Eleven was a favorite a few years ago—and The Wild Shore imagines a strange future for my native Southern California.

Written in 1984, it presents a world of isolated communities without modern conveniences and with only vague and fading recollections of the past. Living by harvesting local resources and bartering with other small communities, the young residents of this village hope for change and toy with joining a resistance movement.

The older village member who teaches reading and recounts his own version of history is brilliantly drawn. I was most intrigued by this of the three books in the trilogy, although they are all worthwhile (and the historian figure recurs cleverly across all three). 

There are many other books about the Japanese “triple disaster” (earthquake, tsunami, nuclear meltdown) of 2011, but none that engages so closely and with such resonance on the human element.

The author’s interviews with survivors allowed him to reconstruct events up to and beyond the devastation of Ishimaki City. Most poignant was the fate of students and teachers at Ogawa Elementary School, who drowned following mistaken advice to stay put in the face of the oncoming tsunami.

In places, the account was so painful it left me with tears in my eyes. Read it to learn from the tragedy and to honor those whose lives were lost as well as those who survived against all odds.

This book doesn’t have a catchy title and sounds rather pedestrian, but we are told never to judge a book by its cover and in this case it’s true about the title as well! Mark Parillo’s magisterial thesis taught me a great deal about why the Japanese lost the Pacific War. He explains why they stubbornly refused to convoy their merchant fleet even when, by failing to do so, they were aiding the enemy’s cause. Japan needed to import most of its war material, but once the US submarine campaign began to decimate the ships that were bringing in those vital supplies in 1944-45 the game was essentially up. Therefore, a case can be made that the war was effectively lost before the atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. 

When Theodore “Dutch” Van Kirk, the Enola Gay’s crack navigator, decided to self-publish his memoirs, he was over 90. He told me he wanted it as a legacy to his family. Many of his friends, however, said he waited until everyone else was dead so he could have the last word! Knowing Dutch’s impish sense of humor, I suspect it was a little of both.

No matter. Sue Dietz has done a wonderful job of chronicling Van Kirk’s long and eventful life. Further, it allowed me a clearer window into the life of bombardier Tom Ferebee—Dutch’s lifelong best friend. Just as important, Sue was extremely generous in allowing me to liberally quote from her work; my book is the better for it. 

In the 1940s, journalist John Hersey wrote an eye-opening expose on the effects of the atomic bombing of Japan with Hiroshima. In doing so, Hersey began to shape the already-contested memory of why America dropped “the bomb.” Following in Hersey’s footsteps, in the early 1980s Jonathan Schell penned a straightforward warning about the atomic age. After interviewing scientists, policymakers, and intellectuals, he began to pen an accessible essay exposing of what would happen to earth after a nuclear war. The result was Fate of the Earth, and it went on to become one of the most impactful pieces of non-fiction of the decade. It helped to validate scientist Carl Sagan’s controversial “nuclear winter” hypothesis, and inspired an untold number of the public to engage in antinuclear activism. To appreciate the early 1980s as a period of intense nuclear fear, this is a must-read.

The masterful Toland weaves a narrative of jaw-dropping detail, drama and complexity that tells the grand and harrowing story of the Pacific War between the United States and Japan from the perspective of the Japanese. The tale takes the reader from Tokyo cabinet meetings to the deck of warships to the frontline of critical battles, to share the experiences of everyone from national leaders to top generals to ordinary soldiers. It’s one of those books that’s so good it leaves you wondering how it was even written.

Setting, learning about the history of the Bay Area, characters, mystery.

A few weeks ago, I saw the Oppenheimer movie, now widely praised for igniting conversation and debate on the topic of nuclear weapons and criticized for failing to show the devastating impact of the bomb on the Japanese. Books like Black Rain tell that story.

The title Black Rain denotes horror. Indeed, being among those Japanese on whom the black rain fell was a horror unimaginable to most of us. Soon after the bomb exploded, thunderous inky clouds released sticky black raindrops over the city. People suffering from desperate thirst opened their mouths to the heavens and drank the deadly droplets. Later, they would learn these droplets were gifts of radioactive poison.

Written with superb attention to detail and vivid descriptions, Black Rain helps us understand the devastating impact of nuclear war on humanity.

"The One Who Waits," one of my favorite stories in this collection, would be regarded more commonly as science fiction, as it takes place during an Earth expedition to Mars. But Ray Bradbury’s story also pioneers the classic horror trope of a small group of people falling one by one to a mysterious creature they cannot see—and with a means of disguise highly imaginative, beautifully written, and fundamentally terrifying. Bradbury is a phenomenal writer and it’s difficult to recommend any one story without feeling certain you’ve dropped the ball in not recommending another--you really can't go wrong with this entire collection--but the quick, clever, nuanced "The One Who Waits" is one of the best sci-fi/horror hybrids ever written.