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Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford

Pacific Northwest Books

926 books — 615 voters

Our Favorite Books for Teens

33 books — 5 voters

Real Gardens Grow Natives by Eileen M. Stark

Gardening with Native Plants of the Pacific Northwest by Arthur R. Kruckeberg

Maritime Northwest Garden Guide by Lisa Taylor

Propagation of Pacific Northwest Native Plants by Robin Rose

Gardening in the Pacific Northwest

47 books — 5 voters

Folk-Tales of the Coast Salish by Thelma Adamson

Explore the River Educational Project (2-book, 1-DVD Set) by Confederated Salish and Koo...

High Desert Grave Robber by Linda A. Morton

Rights Remembered by Pauline R. Hillaire

Bull Trout's Gift by Confederated Salish and Koo...

Coast Salish Indigenous Peoples

103 books — 3 voters

Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan

McMenamins' Lavender Lady

22 books — 2 voters

Historical Fiction - Pacific Northwest

70 books — 18 voters

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Quotes Tagged “Oregon”

“ A lake so vibrant in color that it looks like a fine art painting. ”
― Stefanie Payne, A Year in the National Parks: The Greatest American Road Trip

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“ There are halibut as big as doors in the ocean down below the town, flapskimming on the murky ocean floor with vast skates and rays and purple crabs and black cod large as logs, and sea lions slashing through the whip-forests of bull kelp and eelgrass and sugar wrack, and seals in the rockweed and giant perennial kelp and iridescent kelp and iridescent fish and luminous shrimp too small to see with the naked eye but billions of which feed the gray whales which slide hugely slowly by like rubbery There are halibut as big as doors in the ocean down below the town, flapskimming on the murky ocean floor with vast skates and rays and purple crabs and black cod large as logs, and sea lions slashing through the whip-forests of bull kelp and eelgrass and sugar wrack, and seals in the rockweed and giant perennial kelp and iridescent kelp and iridescent fish and luminous shrimp too small to see with the naked eye but billions of which feed the gray whales which slide hugely slowly by like rubbery zeppelins twice a year, north in spring and south in fall. Salmonberries, thimbleberries, black raspberries, gooseberries, bearberries, snowberries, salal berries, elderberries, blackberries along the road and by the seasonal salt marshes north and south. The ground squirrels burrow along the dirt banks of the back roads, their warren of mysterious holes, the thick scatter of fine brown soil before their doorsteps, the flash of silver-gray on their back fur as they rocket into the bushes; the bucks and does and fawns in the road in the morning, their springy step as they slip away from the gardens they have been eating; the bobcat seen once, at dusk, its haunches jacked up like a teenager's hot-rodding car; the rumor of cougar in the hills; the coyotes who use the old fire road in the hills; the tiny mice and bats one sometimes finds long dead and leathery like ancient brown paper; the little frenetic testy chittering skittering cheeky testy chickaree squirrels in the spruces and pines - Douglas squirrels, they are, their very name remembering that young gentleman botanist who wandered near these hills centuries ago. The herons in marshes and sinks and creeks and streams and on the beach sometimes at dusk; and the cormorants and pelicans and sea scoters and murres (poor things so often dead young on the beach after the late-spring fledging) and jays and crows and quorking haunted ravens (moaning Poe! Poe! at dusk) especially over the wooded hills, and the goldfinches mobbing thistles in the meadowed hills, and sometimes a falcon rocketing by like a gleeful murderous dream, and osprey of all sizes all along the Mink like an osprey police lineup, and the herring gulls and Caspian terns and arctic terns, and the varied thrushes in wet corners of thickets, and the ruffed grouse in the spruce by the road, and the quail sometimes, and red-tailed hawks floating floating floating; from below they look like kites soaring brownly against the piercing blue sky, which itself is a vast creature bluer by the month as summer deepens into crispy cold fall. ...more ”
― Brian Doyle, Mink River: A Novel

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