Geraldine Brooks had an unpleasant surprise when she studied at Harvard

Three small volumes of a series called “A Return to Poetry.” In each, 10 famous Australians choose their 10 favorite songs and share why those songs speak to them. I read these books often and I’m sad they ended the series. Alongside them now I have “Worn,” by Sofi Thanhauser, a dive into the human and environmental cost of the things we carry on our backs; two novels, “Master of the Revels,” by Nicole Galland, and “The Lioness,” by Chris Bohjalian; and Gish Jen’s new short story, “Thank You, Mr. Nixon.”

I’m enjoying “The Overstory,” by Richard Powers.

I will whisper this, for I am dead: “Middlemarch.”

The “Remembrance of Earth’s Past” trilogy, by Liu Cixin, is full of information on everything from China’s Cultural Revolution to why we don’t know about early contact, and why we might. to dislike. But there’s something wrong with some of the words and I can’t tell if it’s the writing or the translation. Alas, it took me too long to learn Mandarin to get a clear answer.

A cold winter’s day, a lavender-scented bath, a good book, no need to be anywhere else for an hour or so, nothing wrong with turning off the hot water.

“No One on Earth,” by Walter Moudy. The next thing I saw reading was my son, because I clicked on him.

I taught writing at Harvard last year and half of my students had never read a Shakespeare play. That set my hair on fire.

Thinking of you be able to “Gilead” and “Housekeeping,” by Marilynne Robinson, were read as teenagers, but you should challenge yourself and re-read them when you’re out of style.

Anyone who stands up for the truth against the toxic mud of Murdoch-enabled lies.

I love Michael Robotham’s fiction and I wasn’t wrong at all.

In nonfiction, the prolific and protean Jill Lepore, especially her account of Ben Franklin’s sister, “Book of Ages,” is a painstaking unarguing of the voice of a neglected woman. Likewise, in “Bound in Wedlock,” Tera W. Hunter makes us listen to the untold stories of love and marriage among the oppressed. Drew Gilpin Faust in the Civil War; David W. Blight on Frederick Douglass; Charles E. Rosenberg on dangerous diseases. Nicole Hannah-Jones, like my late husband Tony Horwitz, is a journalist in history, showing the cost of the truths we deny and the stories we embrace. now. In fiction, my favorite American history book is “I Should Be Extremely Happy in Your Company,” by Brian Hall, about the Lewis and Clark expedition. It’s packed with insights gained through in-depth research and is a master class in tone and style.

My books keep me organized. Poetry should be in the entrance hall, play chairs in the TV room, antiques in the living room, books about food to clutter the kitchen, novels of this period spilling over the walls of built-in shelves in the lobby, books for my current research teeter. In the piles on my desk, while the books from past research go to the closet, it’s Tony’s study. There, books about lead mining in the Pennines and the letters of Bronson Alcott join every book written about the Civil War, which is Tony’s favorite. And in some stable metal tables there is a motley selection of titles, united by the fact that their authors are still with us.

The size of an octopus is an octopus, no octopi, because you can’t put the Latin “i” at the end of a Greek word. One of the interesting things I learned from “The Soul of an Octopus,” by Sy Montgomery.

We need to reframe the narrative of climate change so it is not about abandonment and loss, but also about possibility and happiness. A wild lawn full of bees and wildflowers is more beautiful and less expensive than an expanse of toxic ChemLawn; An electric car powered by the sun will be much more fun than a gas car, and the first value that was discovered while interacting with the neighbors at the local Dumptique brings to more comfortable than a plastic tchotchke clicked on the web. It’s not about giving up but finding better ways.

Wit, in all its forms. From Jane Austen to Andrew Sean Greer I love a book that makes me laugh while revealing deep truths about human nature.

“How to Land an Airplane,” by Mark Vanhoenacker. As the author observes, you are not have got fly, but you will land. As someone who lives on an island and has to fly in small planes with unknown pilots during a time of increased fitness, I find that having this book in hand is a comforter. And Vanhoenacker writes beautifully about flight. I love his book “Skyfaring.”

How do you feel without thinking? In what world, or species, would those two species be separated?

I love beautiful and insightful writers like Helen Garner, Ann Patchett, Michael Lewis, George Packer, Annie Dillard, WEB Du Bois. I’m a bit of a reader myself because I get really angry when the spirit of research takes the soul out of the story, or when I get carried away by inaccuracies. There was no train to Fitchburg in 1840. There were no camels in Israel before 2000 BC And no one used the word “mauve” for a color until 1796. ” founded in 1665.)

“The End of Nature,” by Bill McKibben, with a publication date of 1989 selected at the top. Maybe remind him that we’ve been dealing with this problem for over three years so it’s time to step on Joe Manchin and decide on an air ticket.

“Moby-Dick,” again. Despite Nathaniel Philbrick’s persuasive story about the quality of the text, that whale doesn’t escape me.

First, I’m going to bring back Tony Horwitz, because he’s more fun at a dinner party than I’ve ever seen him. Then, because I think it’s very rude – and a little – to invite authors without their partners, I would like my Australian friend Tim Winton and his wife Denise, a marine scientist. I add Margaret Atwood and bring back her partner, Graeme Gibson, a conservative.

“All She Carried: The Journey of Ashley’s Backpack, a Black Family Savings,” by Tiya Miles.

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