If you were drawn to how Reservoir 13 keeps circling the village—yearly search parties thinning out, gossip coalescing in the pub, the church choir and schoolroom quietly reshaping people’s fates—you’ll love how Olive Kitteridge lets a whole coastal Maine town breathe on the page. As McGregor’s villagers drift in and out around the unresolved disappearance, Strout’s stories return to Olive’s blunt presence as neighbors age, fall out, and reconcile, giving you that same satisfying sense of a community’s pulse over time.

The way Reservoir 13 hands the narrative from one villager to another—glimpsing the moor, the reservoirs, the schoolyard, the allotments—finds a powerful echo in The Shore. Taylor’s linked narratives jump between different inhabitants of Virginia’s barrier islands across decades, much like how McGregor’s chapters shift focus while the landscape remains constant. If you appreciated those brief, vivid windows into ordinary and not-so-ordinary lives as the years tick past each New Year’s Eve, this kaleidoscopic portrait will hit the same sweet spot.

If the slow, tidal rhythm of Reservoir 13—lambing season after lambing season, the annual bonfire, the unhurried searches over the hills—was what hooked you, Stoner offers that same hypnotic pace. Williams traces a single life with the kind of understated force McGregor uses to show a village changing year by year after the girl vanishes on New Year’s Eve. The emotional weight sneaks up on you in both books, arriving not with a twist, but with the depth that accrues from time and attention.

If you loved how Reservoir 13 keeps faith with the nonhuman world—the foxes slipping through hedgerows, badgers clearing setts, swifts stitching the sky, the reservoirs rising and falling with the weather—The Overstory amplifies that attentiveness into a sweeping chorus. Powers follows people whose lives are knotted with trees, making the seasonal and ecological rhythms as central as any human plot. That sense you had of the land carrying memory even as villagers move on is right at home here.

If McGregor’s cadenced repetitions and refrains—returning to the reservoirs, the weather rolling in, the drumbeat toward bonfire night—were part of the pleasure, Autumn offers a similarly musical sentence-by-sentence experience. Smith’s novel moves with the seasons while tracing the evolving bond between Elisabeth and Daniel, turning everyday moments into resonant motifs. It captures the same sensation you had in Reservoir 13: time advancing in ripples, language catching the shimmer.