Looking for something to read? Forget the new releases and delve into a past gem.

Martin Shaw recommends Steven Amsterdam

We talk a lot about contemporary Australian writing, but seldom do we look back any further than the 3-12 month window that the publishing industry typically revolves around. So what are already the modern classics of Australian Literature?

For my money, one of them is Steven Amsterdam’s first novel from 2009, Things We Didn’t See Coming.

From the splendid Peter Mendelsund-designed cover to the always involving, never predictable, and frequently hilarious sequence of linked stories probing a dystopic future, this Age Book of the Year was everything you want out of any novel, let alone a first. And in a world still seemingly hell-bent on its own destruction, books like this – for all the delight within – could hardly be more necessary.

Emily Gale recommends Kate Chopin

Kate Chopin’s The Awakening, a short novel set during a humid Louisiana summer, caused such a stir when it was published in 1899 that the author never managed to get another book out. She died five years later. Her unromantic portrait of marriage, her treatment of female sexuality and the notion of female independence meant that it wasn’t until the 1960s that the work became significant in American literature.

My dad bought me a copy when I was a teenager – I’ve just looked at the price on the back: £0.95p!

Elke Power recommends Jane Austen

If you’ve always meant to read the work of the outstandingly witty and observant Jane Austen, perhaps begin with Persuasion or Pride and Prejudice. If you enjoy books where not a lot seems to happen but every word counts, you could even try Emma. It’s a fantastic summer read. If you have a secret enjoyment of Gothic novels, Northanger Abbey is where you should begin.

Changing tack entirely, anyone with horse-crazy tweens should really get hold of Elyne Mitchell’s Australian classic, The Silver Brumby. There should be a copy in every household.

Bronte Coates recommends Rebecca Solnit

I’d never read Rebecca Solnit before my housemate recently recommended her to me as a smart and persuasive non-fiction writer, able to pull together a dizzying array of tangents into a single thread. You may even have heard Solnit’s name already without realising it – an essay of hers, ‘Men Explain Things To Me’, was a recent online sensation. (A small book of the same title has just been released featuring this now-classic essay along with six others.)

I’m going to dive into her work with Wanderlust: A History of Walking, which is frequently cited as a classic of travel writing.