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Winter Books to Read When It’s Cold Outside

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Winter Books to Read When It’s Cold Outside

Frigid storms, heaps of snow and subzero temperatures are not exactly pleasant to live through, but winter weather can make for an irresistible setting for a book. From the cool surface of a frozen lake to the dizzying frenzy of a white-out squall, the dead of winter offers countless evocative and extreme conditions that conjure magic, channel heartbreak and push characters to their limits. The long nights and biting cold also make easy grist for atmosphere: Even in the coziest of reading nooks, the wintry chill can seem to leap from the very best winter books’ pages, making you clutch your mug of tea a little closer.

As we slog through the January doldrums and temperatures in much of the United States dip to polar levels, it can help to embrace the spirit of the season. Here are 10 books that feel ice-cold from the first page.

When the true crime writer Wylie Lark discovers an unconscious child outside her remote cabin in rural Iowa, she becomes embroiled in a mystery worthy of one of her macabre books. But the real terror comes from the elements, as an unrelenting winter storm traps Lark and the child inside. Gudenkauf weaves together three stories across three time periods in this unsettling and sometimes brutal thriller. As the threads converge, you can practically feel the bitter winds lashing against the cabin walls.

Read our review.

“I could see nothing but winter, all around,” Miryem, one of the narrators of Novik’s glorious fantasy novel observes as she is swept into the icy kingdom of the powerful, fae-like Staryk. Billed as a retelling of “Rumpelstiltskin,” this Hugo Award nominee is in fact an uncanny blend of several Eastern European fairy tales, myths and legends, remixed in a style that feels wholly original. In this novel, it isn’t just the weather that can turn cold: “Thrice you shall turn silver to gold for me,” the Staryk king threatens Miryem, “or be changed to ice yourself.”

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Read our review.

This thrilling novel opens on a Colorado highway in the middle of a blizzard, and the weather only worsens from there. Adams uses the harsh conditions to sequester his cast of suspicious strangers inside a secluded service station without Wi-Fi or cell service, setting the stage for a classic locked-room mystery. When Darby Thorne, a college student, discovers a possible kidnapping victim in one of the vehicles parked at the rest stop, she has to determine which of her fellow stranded travelers is responsible — all while waiting for the storm to relent and the roads to be cleared.

One of the great American adventure novels, “Solo Faces” follows the daring exploits of Verne Rand, a self-reliant roofer who absconds from California to the Swiss Alps. There, he commits himself to the monumental task of scaling some of the most imposing mountains in the world, including the Eiger, the Grandes Jorasses and the Aiguille du Dru. Salter renders these treacherous ascents in spartan, crystalline prose, finding in the death-defying thrills of mountaineering something like a religious experience. It’s a beautiful book, with writing as icy as the alpine peaks.

Read our review.

A group of tourists, stranded in an abandoned cabin during a snowstorm, wake up after their first bitterly cold night in the woods to find their tour guide butchered, and his severed head impaled on the branch of a tree. That’s the grisly setup for this violent, claustrophobic parlor mystery, which reads like a slasher version of Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None.” The body count is high, the murders are inventive and the gore is vivid, but it’s the snow that gets top billing, surrounding the characters on all sides as the tension mounts and the blood continues to pour.

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Read our review.

A western concerned with the demise of the American West, “Butcher’s Crossing,” by the cult-favorite author of “Stoner,” tells the story of an ill-fated 1870s buffalo hunt in the Colorado Rockies that is disrupted by the sudden onset of a winter storm. The book’s hero is Will Andrews, an idealistic college student, who gets lured into this folly by an ambitious, fortune-seeking hunter named Miller. The novel’s unromantic naturalism, as well as its grim view of American exceptionalism and frontier hubris, draws frequent comparisons to Cormac McCarthy’s “Blood Meridian,” but the despairing winter chill that pervades the story is distinctly its own.

Read our review.

Keegan’s short, bittersweet book is set in Ireland over the Christmas holidays of 1985, and she makes you feel the season’s every errant gust and snowflake as the protagonist, the unassuming Bill Furlong, makes his rounds delivering the village’s coal each morning. When Furlong discovers the disturbing secrets hidden within the cloistered walls of the local convent — to describe them any further would ruin the mystery — he’s put in an impossible position, left to determine whether he can summon a measure of warmth for his fellow man amid the dreary Irish landscape.

Read our review, and listen to our editors discuss the novel on the Book Review podcast.

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Written in the aftermath of a car accident that left him needing months of physical rehabilitation, King’s underrated “Dreamcatcher” feels very much like the work of a man in pain — the agony manifesting, in typical King fashion, as a ruthless alien parasite that gestates in the lower intestines of its victims before bursting out of their backsides. The book’s heroes, a quartet of lifelong friends from King’s favored town of Derry, contend with the alien invaders in the woods of Maine amid an overwhelming blizzard, which gives the story its suitably chilling backdrop.

In “Frozen in Time,” the Canadian authors Beattie and Geiger delve into the longstanding mystery of the Franklin Expedition, a failed 19th-century voyage in search of the Northwest Passage that left two British ships, the Erebus and the Terror, stranded in the Arctic ice and their entire crews dead. Beattie and Geiger capture the excitement and peril of the explorers’ harrowing journey through polar conditions and, drawing on comprehensive forensic research, offer a compelling explanation of what might have transpired over their final weeks and days (including, in a final act of desperation, cannibalism). It’s a serious historical work, but also a riveting account of a truly extraordinary expedition.

If the true story of the Franklin Expedition isn’t quite exciting enough, you may prefer “The Terror,” Simmons’s fictionalized dramatization that turns the real-life Arctic voyage into a larger-than-life battle with the supernatural. Beattie and Geiger’s research suggests that the crews of the Erebus and the Terror may have suffered from hallucinations after contracting lead poisoning from spoiled tinned provisions. Simmons cleverly folds this fact into his thriller, in which his cast of sailors must fight a bloodthirsty monster while also gradually going insane.

Read our review. And if you’re still hungry for more Franklin Expedition fare, you might also enjoy AMC’s series adaptation of Simmons’s book, or Kaliane Bradley’s romance novel “The Ministry of Time,” in which one of the explorers, Graham Gore, is plucked from the ice and transported to the future.

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Culture

I Think This Poem Is Kind of Into You

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I Think This Poem Is Kind of Into You

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A famous poet once observed that it is difficult to get the news from poems. The weather is a different story. April showers, summer sunshine and — maybe especially — the chill of winter provide an endless supply of moods and metaphors. Poets like to practice a double meteorology, looking out at the water and up at the sky for evidence of interior conditions of feeling.

The inner and outer forecasts don’t always match up. This short poem by Louise Glück starts out cold and stays that way for most of its 11 lines.

And then it bursts into flame.

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“Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” comes from Glück’s debut collection, “Firstborn,” which was published in 1968. She wrote the poems in it between the ages of 18 and 23, but they bear many of the hallmarks of her mature style, including an approach to personal matters — sex, love, illness, family life — that is at once uncompromising and elusive. She doesn’t flinch. She also doesn’t explain.

Here, for example, Glück assembles fragments of experience that imply — but also obscure — a larger narrative. It’s almost as if a short story, or even a novel, had been smashed like a glass Christmas ornament, leaving the reader to infer the sphere from the shards.

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We know there was a couple with a flat tire, and that a year later at least one of them still has feelings for the other. It’s hard not to wonder if they’re still together, or where they were going with those Christmas presents.

To some extent, those questions can be addressed with the help of biographical clues. The version of “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” that appeared in The Atlantic in 1967 was dedicated to Charles Hertz, a Columbia University graduate student who was Glück’s first husband. They divorced a few years later. Glück, who died in 2023, was never shy about putting her life into her work.

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Louise Glück in 1975.

Gerard Malanga

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But the poem we are reading now is not just the record of a passion that has long since cooled. More than 50 years after “Firstborn,” on the occasion of receiving the Nobel Prize for literature, Glück celebrated the “intimate, seductive, often furtive or clandestine” relations between poets and their readers. Recalling her childhood discovery of William Blake and Emily Dickinson, she declared her lifelong ardor for “poems to which the listener or reader makes an essential contribution, as recipient of a confidence or an outcry, sometimes as co-conspirator.”

That’s the kind of poem she wrote.

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“Confidence” can have two meanings, both of which apply to “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson.” Reading it, you are privy to a secret, something meant for your ears only. You are also in the presence of an assertive, self-possessed voice.

Where there is power, there’s also risk. To give voice to desire — to whisper or cry “I want you” — is to issue a challenge and admit vulnerability. It’s a declaration of conquest and a promise of surrender.

What happens next? That’s up to you.

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Can You Identify Where the Winter Scenes in These Novels Took Place?

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Can You Identify Where the Winter Scenes in These Novels Took Place?

Cold weather can serve as a plot point or emphasize the mood of a scene, and this week’s literary geography quiz highlights the locations of recent novels that work winter conditions right into the story. Even if you aren’t familiar with the book, the questions offer an additional hint about the setting. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the books if you’d like to do further reading.

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From NYT’s 10 Best Books of 2025: A.O. Scott on Kiran Desai’s New Novel

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From NYT’s 10 Best Books of 2025: A.O. Scott on Kiran Desai’s New Novel

Inge Morath/Magnum Photos

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When a writer is praised for having a sense of place, it usually means one specific place — a postage stamp of familiar ground rendered in loving, knowing detail. But Kiran Desai, in her latest novel, “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny,” has a sense of places.

This 670-page book, about the star-crossed lovers of the title and several dozen of their friends, relatives, exes and servants (there’s a chart in the front to help you keep track), does anything but stay put. If “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” were an old-fashioned steamer trunk, it would be papered with shipping labels: from Allahabad (now known as Prayagraj), Goa and Delhi; from Queens, Kansas and Vermont; from Mexico City and, perhaps most delightfully, from Venice.

There, in Marco Polo’s hometown, the titular travelers alight for two chapters, enduring one of several crises in their passionate, complicated, on-again, off-again relationship. One of Venice’s nicknames is La Serenissima — “the most serene” — but in Desai’s hands it’s the opposite: a gloriously hectic backdrop for Sonia and Sunny’s romantic confusion.

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Their first impressions fill a nearly page-long paragraph. Here’s how it begins.

Sonia is a (struggling) fiction writer. Sunny is a (struggling) journalist. It’s notable that, of the two of them, it is she who is better able to perceive the immediate reality of things, while he tends to read facts through screens of theory and ideology, finding sociological meaning in everyday occurrences. He isn’t exactly wrong, and Desai is hardly oblivious to the larger narratives that shape the fates of Sunny, Sonia and their families — including the economic and political changes affecting young Indians of their generation.

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But “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” is about more than that. It’s a defense of the very idea of more, and thus a rebuke to the austerity that defines so much recent literary fiction. Many of Desai’s peers favor careful, restricted third-person narration, or else a measured, low-affect “I.” The bookstores are full of skinny novels about the emotional and psychological thinness of contemporary life. This book is an antidote: thick, sloppy, fleshy, all over the place.

It also takes exception to the postmodern dogma that we only know reality through representations of it, through pre-existing concepts of the kind to which intellectuals like Sunny are attached. The point of fiction is to assert that the world is true, and to remind us that it is vast, strange and astonishing.

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See the full list of the 10 Best Books of 2025 here.

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