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Sonja Swift (photo: Marcus Lund) |
Sonja Swift is an award-winning writer, poet, and environmental storyteller whose work explores the intersection of culture and the natural world. She is the author of Echo Loba, Loba Echo: Of Wisdom, Wolves and Women and Red Sky in the Morning: Of Water, Whales and Warnings (Rocky Mountain Books, October 13, 2026), which combines marine science and memoir while drawing on Indigenous knowledge and environmental history. Her work has appeared in Dark Mountain Project, Literary Hub, and Orion magazine, among other literary journals and poetry anthologies. She comes from dusty, sometimes emerald California coastal hills.
On your nightstand now:
Call Me Ishmaelle by Xiaolu Guo, a feminist retelling I just finished that complements the original well. "Elle" is a covert word in the title of my first book also.
Daughter of Mother-of-Pearl by Mandy-Suzanne Wong, essays about mollusks and awareness that are making me see in new ways, something I cherish doing.
How Iceland Changed the World by Egill Bjarnason, because I gave his parents, bookstore owners of Bókakaffið in Selfoss, a copy of my book and in trade I received this. An insightful and witty read.
Praiseworthy by Alexis Wright, after having recently finished The Swan Book and her essay "The Inward Migration in Apocalyptic Times."
A motley stack of kids' books for bedtime stories including Constellation of the Deep by Benjamin Flouw.
Favorite book when you were a child:
Picking a single book is an impossible question, so any answers I offer within such parameters are really just flashes of light off a prism. That said, of childhood, one book stands out distinctly: The Brothers Lionheart by Astrid Lindgren, who is more well known for Pippi Longstocking, which certainly played into my childhood as well.
Your top five authors:
Setting aside impossibility, here are a handful, accompanied by a book (or two):
Ursula K. Le Guin (Always Coming Home and The Word for World Is Forest) for her legendary science fiction and perceptive essays, opinion pieces, and critiques.
Layli Long Soldier (Whereas, with We on order, noting her poem "38") for her steadfast precision with language, depth of thought, and poetic resistance. I feel a sense of coherence in reading her work.
Ryszard Kapuściński (The Shadow of the Sun) for the authentic lived experiences he brought to reportage and his own unique perspective, as in the case of this book, in being the lone Polish correspondent in Africa during years of decolonization.
Galsan Tschinag (The Blue Sky and The Gray Earth) for how he vibrantly channels Tuvan oral tradition into written books. I feel lucky to have been introduced to his work via Milkweed Editions books in translation.
Leslie Marmon Silko (Ceremony, Almanac of the Dead, The Turquoise Ledge) whose writing lives on in my mind's eye long after putting her books down.
Book you've faked reading:
Herman Melville's classic Moby-Dick. But only at first, when I couldn't quite get into the verbose cadence and kept ditching it. Once I determined to finish the tome, I was grateful I did.
Book you're an evangelist for:
I'm not a good evangelist. That said, Pia Arke comes to mind. The book that introduced me to her is a trilingual reprint of her essay "Ethno-Aesthetics" in Kalaallisut, Danish, and English that my husband found a copy of when we were in Nuuk. I more or less dedicated a chapter to her in Echo Loba, Loba Echo.
Book you've bought for the cover:
The Wayfinder by Adam Johnson stood out for me on the shelf with its azure two-inch-wide spine and dust jacket glimmering with gold stars. I needed a book for a trip and was glad to find this one by happenstance.
Book you hid from your parents:
Less than a book I hid, one that I held close was The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. This hasn't changed.
Book that changed your life:
I pay tribute to Of Wolves and Men by Barry Lopez for motivating me to write a woman's version thereof. I read this book on a long road trip going from coastal California to the Black Hills, S.Dak. While there were other aspects to the journey, both along this particular traverse and in the wider arc of life, that led me to write the book I finally did write, reading Lopez at this time was instrumental. Of course, I've always respected his eloquence and perception, having read Arctic Dreams years prior, among other works.
Favorite line from a book:
Most recent one I wrote down: "And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about." --Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore.
The initial making of my second book, Red Sky in the Morning, began with writing about storms before I dove into the deep water and it became an ocean book. The storm is one of those metaphors I circle around.
Five books you'll never part with:
These would be special life-weathered copies, including some of the books named here.
Book you most want to read again for the first time:
Here are three...
Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi. I remember being in awe of how this epic traverses eight generations, categorically depicting how the past lives on in the present moment.
The Baron in the Trees by Italo Calvino. I'm fond of magic realism, and this was the book that introduced me to Calvino's imagination.
Ædnan by Linnea Axelsson. I remain compelled by the spartan form of this verse novel, which distills a kaleidoscopic view of intergenerational experiences enduring amidst the forces of colonization in Sápmi homelands.
Book that has resonance with your own writing:
When I picked up Poppy State by Myriam Gurba, I noticed elements that felt uniquely akin. From place (we both hail from and write about a similar part of California) to issues she reckons with (including brutal histories and land memories of this golden poppy state), but also in her particular experimentation with form. Such as incorporating non-alphanumeric keys in the text and writing prose with a poetic bent and shape, both of which I do in my own ways. She approached this book as if walking through a labyrinth. It is also a healing story. Her writing is vivid. I am especially drawn to poetic prose and a hybridity of forms.