It’s true. I was a non-fiction reading snob for years. So much so, that if I really think about it, the last time I had picked up a novel was the final installment of Harry Potter in 2005 during my freshman year of high school. It had been awhile.
My reading preferences, instead, always centered around unexpected, crass memoir or tales of incredible people changing the world. But, they all had a common thread. Travel. A woman’s year childrearing in Provence. A young couple traveling across Asia and falling in love. A scientist working with the endangered polar bears of Antarctica. I absorbed travel writing with such a ferocity that I very literally ran out of books to read at some point.
This was a serious problem when 2020 hit, social plans came to a halt, work was something neither in the present nor the future, my humble library ran dry, and I was in a literary pickle. Cue my friends who understood the plight of lock-down sans book and just like that, so generously appeared the first stack of fiction on my door step over a decade.
Now, while I love the predictability of a great romance, and I very much enjoy contemporary stories of women like me mucking through the world, once again my traveling heart and soul has veered its excitable head in the books that now fill my Libby app and await my attention for the 21 days I hoard them on my Kindle. Though all officially fiction, I have found myself, more than ever enthralled by the wonder of the still endless list of places that I have yet to see.
Who knew that fiction can feel just as, if not more, real?
A Thousand Ships, by Natalie Haynes: Please forgive this confession that I knew very little about Greek mythology until reading this short but impressive depiction of Homer’s, The Iliad. Unlike the original and many interpretations after, this particular version is through the eyes of the women who also endured the incredibly devastating trojan war. Think: Penelope angered and confused by her husbands ongoing absence. Helen defending her decision to betray her husband and her country. Gaia seeing growing population and inciting war with the help of Zeus. Combining magic, godly intervention, and the tales of war, love, and above all the faults of human beings, you are transported immediately to the craggy Greek coasts. There is nothing like understanding a history to better understand a country’s modern day. Having read this while living on the island of Crete, every day I got to imagine the endless sea views and brutal summer climate amidst Hecuba’s heartbreak and The Amazonas warrior spirit.
Still Life, by Sarah Winman: Do you ever feel as if you have manifested a certain story based in a certain place that tickles that exact travel obsession you’ve been nursing? Still Life takes place in mostly Florence, Italy post second world war where the descriptions of Ponte Vecchio paired with the detailed prose about stucco roofs, frescoed ceilings, and the smell of espresso wafting from a corner café has me craving the romance of Italy more than ever. So much so that I decided pretty quickly to spend a month in Rome this year and have already scouted out a weekend trip to the city of Renaissance glory. The characters are absolutely fascinating, the history is undeniably interesting, but more importantly the author’s adoration for Florence is so apparent that you can’t help but wonder if you too should take up residence and open a pension by the river.
The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver: Talk about a seriously epic tale. When this story was suggested to me, I had no idea what I was in for. Having been published in 1998, and yet still had a six month wait at the library says quite a bit already. Set in Belgian Congo of the 1950s and 60s, it will take most readers to a place far from the well-visited destinations in the Caribbean and Europe. The complicated politics of the times paired with the religious dogma of many well-intentioned missionaries to the continent of Africa leaves you infuriated but also questioning your own place in the world. And googling all types of things like army ants and Patrice Lumumba. Personally, it transported me to a back in college when I during my quick hop and skip in the country of Malawi where I enjoyed home cooked meals in small dark homes, chewed on sugar cane as I walked through the market, and fought off Giardia for two straight weeks. Can’t wait to make it back some day…
Malibu Rising, by Taylor Jenkins Reid: Anyone curious about the life of those who somehow afford to live in one of the most expensive communities in America has found their next read. This story follows a family from rags to riches, through fame and heartbreak, and ultimately the destructive nature of a city that houses all the wealthiest, most beautiful people into the same 50 square miles. More importantly, much like most of Reid’s stories about Los Angeles in the 19th century, it embraces the beauty and excitement of one of the most complicated cities in America. The cliffside homes, the endless sunshine, and the seemingly constant run-ins with the famous dwellers of Malibu, had me yearning for another life where I spend my days surfing, my brown hair is always sun bleached, and I dine in Cardiff with its expansive sunsets.
The Beach, by Alex Garland: If you ever watched the Leonardo DiCaprio interpretation of this horrific yet mesmerizing story, it will come as no surprise that the author’s description of the untouched beaches, waterfalls, and marijuana fields of Thailand are at once alluring and absolutely terrifying. Having never been to Asia, while I love Anthony Bourdain’s renditions of fried street food and Tuk Tuk rides to night clubs, there is something wild and spontaneous about this backpacker’s nightmarish adventure through uncharted Thai islands. Despite the dark side of this story, it still lingers for me as one of the most memorable and exciting images of East Asia.
Shantaram: A Novel, by Gregory David Roberts: Wow wow wow. A doozy in terms of length at 900+ pages, every word and moment delivers the deeply complicated world of Bombay (current day Mumbai) that had me geeking out with one of my friends born in this elusive country. My perception of Mumbai, with a greater population than New York City, is of both fascination and terror. The sounds, the smells, the colors, and ultimately the feel of a city has never been expressed better than in this novel that spans the life of an Australian convict evading arrest in the maze of the monstrosity that is India’s largest city. Through Roberts’ words you can smell the pungent air, see the deep emerald green of a sari, and feel the fear ignited by an angry vigilante mob. When I say I have never wanted to see India more than through this novel, I mean it.
That concludes Volume 1 of Books with A Profound Sense of Place. Enjoy and request every single one now since most will require a 6-9 month wait. And please drop your recommendations in the comments. As a full time nomad, books are my very best friends.