Sojo: Memoirs of a Reluctant Sled Dog
By Pam Flowers; Graphic Arts Books; $10.15
What it's about: Sojo the sled dog is born into a hard-working, talented family and starts life as a happy, trusting and confident dog. But her confidence rapidly wanes as she begins to understand how complicated and challenging it is to be a sled dog. She fears that she will never learn how to do the job and is overshadowed by her sister, Anna, who is very smart and confident — and gets all the glory. Told from Sojo's point of view, at her journey's end, she comes to realize that she has made a valuable contribution to the success of the adventure and is respected as a sled dog.
Flowers, of Talkeetna, has written several books about sled dogs, including "Alone Across the Arctic: One Woman's Epic Journey by Dog" and "Ordinary Dogs, Extraordinary Friendships." In addition to her writing, Flowers has earned a gold medal from the Society of Women Geographers.
Excerpt: September brought cooler temperatures and with it came great changes to our lives. Pam had a big red machine called a four-wheeler that is sort of like two motorcycles hooked together side by side. Mushers use them to train dogs when there is no snow. Pam's four-wheeler was like her pickup truck, a little old and kind of worn out. But it worked. One day, she harnessed Douggie and our mother, Alice, and hooked them to the machine with long lines but there was still harness for the third dog in the team.
"Time to start back to school, puppies," said Pam as she walked toward us …
I don't want to go in front of that thing. What if I fall over? I'll get squashed. I protested.
Right then and there I sat down and refused to go any further. I figured Pam was going to yell at me but instead she knelt down, cupped my face in her hands, and said softly, "Sojo, there's nothing to worry about. You're going to do just fine."
Alaskan Vogue: Poetry From the Land of Ice and Shadows
By Lyne Beringer; CTU Publishing; $13.95
What it's about: The author wrote, "I have lived in Interior Alaska off and on for nearly 20 years. Alaska gets in your blood. It lures you in, then takes your soul hostage, becoming part of who you are, who you become."
Excerpt: "A Lie About Truth"
Sometimes I wonder
Why truth is swept under
A rug in a room at the back
How does it feel to cover the truth
With lies so beautifully wrapped?
Fooling ourselves
By placing on shelves
Truth we want no one to see
Then come the lies
All of them tied
To someone we never would be
Here is a fact
Completely in tact
A truth that everyone knows
The more that you try
To live in a lie
The quicker the darkness unfolds
I can't say why
Maybe I'm high
But I dare you to prove that it's real
Think I'll take back
The line about tact
And go look for something to steal
Alaska Man: A Memoir of Growing Up and Living in the Wilds of Alaska
By George Davis and Jill Davis; self-published 2016; 235 pages; $14.99
What it's about: Biography of George Davis and his many journeys in the Alaska wilds. Described as a boat captain, pilot, fishing and hunting guide, builder, electrician and plumber, Davis is the owner of Alaska Wild Adventures.
Excerpt: I had been watching the weather and thought I had a shot of making it back to camp before dark. I was already feeling anxious knowing that I had gotten a later start than I intended and that I was probably going to have to land my plane in darkness.
I knew without a doubt that I had to make it back to my set-net camp, where my brother Greg was waiting for me. Greg had throat cancer and this could very well be my last bear hunt with him. I fought to keep the Super Cub under control as I headed through the mountain pass.
The wind was gusting up to 40 knots on the upward side of the pass, creating severe updrafts and turbulence. It was very difficult to keep the aircraft under control.
I was visualizing what my good friend Iron Mike Ivers from Yakutat had expressed to me. Practice and get proficient at it. He told me to fly the mountain pass on clear days and mark the dead-end canyons on my chart. There are many canyons and crevices, and one wrong turn means death. Alaska Bush pilots call it cumulus granite.
Now I was flying on the leeward side of the pass. I glanced at my instruments and was descending at 1,000-1,500 feet per minute. Even with the engine at full throttle and the trim set for the best rate of climb, I was getting sucked down rapidly. I was hitting pockets of turbulence that would thrash the plane around like a kite. Looking out of the airplane window to my right, the mountainside loomed 300 feet off my wingtip. This was a bad situation.