7 Books To You Might Not Have Heard Of

Many of us read; some have eclectic tastes. If you’re always open to exploring less-known titles, here’s a list to peruse.

Our Country Friends by Gary Shteyngart

My husband and I listened to Shteyngart’s best seller Super Sad True Love Story. He loved it. Me, not so much. That’s how I felt about Our Country Friends. It was ok-ish. Shteyngart uses Covid as a plot driver to bring six adults and one adolescent together in upstate New York at one couple’s bolt hole, complete with guest cottages.

They were all friends at various universities – now they are older but not much wiser. They eat, drink, and seduce their way through the months. And when new couples, death, and boredom redeal the cards, they return to NYC.

Burma Sahib by Paul Theroux

A novel about the character development of Eric Blair, aka George Orwell, during his years in the Burmese Royal Police Force. I’ve read Orwell’s Burmese Years and enjoy everything he tossed at the Raj and the expats.

Theroux is deft as he develops Blair from gawky, innocent 19-year-old to a jaded emerging writer at 24. Somehow the final bits about Orwell’s progress from note-taker to writer were flat to me. Overall, this is a good book, especially if you are interested in George Orwell and the British Raj. In his 80s, Theroux still has a magic touch.

Cork Dork by Bianca Bosker

Let’s hear it for wine! Cork Dork introduced me to the world of fantastic wine. Bosker is an established writer for computer magazines, looking for a new gig. Wine interests her and she used her bountiful contacts in NYC to get a job as a cellar rat (lowest form of life in the wine service community) in a fine restaurant employing sommeliers.

This girl goes full blast into dark cellars of information, misinformation, soaking up every drop of oenophilia. In one manic year, she becomes a certified sommelier – an almost impossible task. This is an enjoyable book for a lover of wine. There is a bit too much narrative about her internal searching and processing, but I learned to skim those bits.

A Tale of Two Hurricane Seasons

I jumped eagerly into Nichole Melleby’s Hurricane Season (Algonquin Young Readers, 2019). Reviews recommended it as a no holds barred tale of Mexican terror. But it quickly turned out to be the story of a troubled single father and his over-responsible, long-suffering young teen daughter. Wait, am I in the wrong book? Yes, it turns out I selected the wrong Hurricane Season from the library.

Melleby’s YA novel (I felt compelled to finish it because it was short.) was disappointing on so many levels. The father, who suffers from manic-depressive disorder, falls in love with a mature, single construction worker who moves in across the street. He proves to be the salvation of the odd couple, taking their lives into his capable care. At age 12-13, the daughter realizes she is attracted to girls, not boys. I found this book forced and sophomoric, though the reviews showered it with praise.

Fernanda Melchor’s Hurricane Season (New Direction Books, 2016) never stopped blowing me away with its torrent of horror. Set in a coastal town near the oil fields (It could be northeast Mexico; the author is from Vera Cruz), the inhabitants we meet are low lives: prostitutes, drug dealers, run-away children – people we would never hear about unless someone like Melchor wrote about their situation.

It begins with a murder. A so-called witch whose 360 persona includes selling drugs to youngsters, hosting orgies that seem to focus on the gay community and helping desperate women with abortions. Meanwhile, people believe she has a fortune in gold and jewels hidden in her house.

Melchor’s writing style – no paragraphs, just eight long chapters, and a firehose of words – conveys the stress under which everyone lives. They eke out daily lives on a few pesos. There is no mention of community or support. There is only the continued downward spiral of evil, neglect, and abashed hopes.

I recommend this book if you can stomach it. The scenes of violence and teen misogyny are horrific. The writing (originally in Spanish, so kudos to the translator) is excellent.

Day One by Abigail Dean

This book, published by Viking is a sad thriller. It deals with the victims, alive and dead, of a mass shooting at an elementary school in the Lake Country of the UK. Dean skillfully draws us into the lives of the tight-knit community. We watch as their patterns of daily life unravel.

Conspiracy theory is a large part of the plot – how people nurture conspiracy and why others believe it. There is just a kernel of withheld information that makes deception possible. It’s a quick read, good for rainy days.

Ghost Dogs: On Killers and Kin by Andre Dubus III

A collection of essays previously published elsewhere, and not what I expected. I have two memories of reading Debus: the sadness of House of Sand and Fog and the violence of Townie. With a title like Ghost Dogs: On Killers and Kin, I expected violence and tragedy. Au contraire, this is a beautiful book about love, love found, love lost, and the deaths of beloved people. Because Debus writes so fluidly, I had to slow down and savor his descriptions. There’s repetition because parts of the stories appear in different essays – ok, skim these. Highly recommended and an easy read.

Let’s Have a Conversation:

When you’re on the hunt for your next read, do you look only through the best-seller section or do you prefer lesser-known books? Have you ever stumbled upon a book with the same title (but different author) as the one you were looking for? Were you happy or disappointed by your selection?