100 books like A Little Life

My husband first recommended this book to me, and when he described it, he said it was written from the perspective of death, and I was not very interested in learning more about what exactly that meant. It took me years to finally follow his recommendation, and when I did, I was greatly surprised.

This historical fiction novel is very different than the others on this list, but it is inspiring all the same. Its unique narrative perspective challenges readers to think about life from a different point of view, and I thoroughly enjoyed the thought-provoking challenge.

Every page of The Paper Palace is moving and evocative—the quintessential love triangle that had me torn between young, innocent love and mature, adult love. I’m a sucker for these tropes, so I sunk inside this story of then and now, shuffling through a range of emotions, just like the protagonist, Elle. That’s the best kind of book. When you feel alongside the characters. And the secret longing kept me turning pages until the climactic, tender ending. And that ending. It will keep you guessing. And discussing. And thinking about it. I still think about it.  

The devastating story of two boys unjustly sentenced to serve time in a nightmarish juvenile reform school, The Nickel Boys won a Pulitzer Prize and became a New York Times bestseller.

It is a must-read for anyone sampling literary works featuring Florida. The boys in the story, Elwood and Turner, endure and witness hellish abuse at the Nickel Academy. The boys’ haunting story, exquisitely told by Colson Whitehead, is based on Florida’s real-life Dozier school where thousands of children were tortured, raped, and murdered for more than a century.

Whitehead’s unflinching descriptions of terror and abuse can be tough to take, but they serve an important purpose, by forcing the reader to confront the hellish reality that was America under Jim Crow laws. Long after the last page is turned, if ever, this novel won’t leave you.

A modern classic, this beautifully crafted fusion of romance and speculative fiction has endured as my top pick among time travel novels. The story follows Henry DeTamble, who involuntarily travels through time, and Clare, his wife, who must cope with Henry's unpredictable absences and reappearances.

I adored this book for so many reasons, but it was its moving portrayal of Henry and Clare's resilience in the face of uncontrollable circumstances that captured my heart so completely.

Furthermore, I appreciated the author's nuanced treatment of the time travel component, foregoing complex scientific explanations to maintain the story's focus on the fundamental human conditions of love, commitment, and hope.

I was completely enthralled by Levithan’s main character, A, and how they become a different person every day. The idea of falling in love or having a career or even pursuing an interest—a sport, an instrument, an art form—becomes impossible when you live a life like A does.

I related to the idea that A couldn’t present as an individual, that they could only be whoever they ended up being for the day. Starting over every 24 hours was worse than waking up every morning as the same wrong person. At least I had the benefits of making friends, learning guitar, and having a family. The story made me so sad for A’s loneliness yet made me feel much less alone.

When it comes to family sagas turned myth, it’s hard to top Calliope Stephanides tracing the passage of the hermaphroditic gene—transforming Callie into Cal—through three generations of the Greek-American Stephanides family.

An epic origin story that moves from Asia Minor to Detroit, Michigan, complete with incest and a nuanced exploration of gender identity. It also has one of my all-time favorite novel openings ever. “Sing now, O Muse, of the recessive mutation on my fifth chromosome!”

Anyone who’s ever taken drugs (or drunk an energy drink) will know that the high always comes at a price: you are not being given new energy; you are just borrowing tomorrow’s energy, and you will pay for it later. 

This book tells the story of a man who lives a life of hedonistic depravity but sails through it all, apparently untouched by experience, his face as young and innocent-looking as ever. But all his guilt and fear show up on the face of the portrait of himself that he keeps in his attic. I can’t think of a more perfect example of the novel-as-metaphor.

Set in 1987 Texas, this sweet coming-of-age story has so many of my favorite things: A slow-burn romance, opposites attracting, and characters so beautifully drawn that you won’t want to let them go when you get to the final page.

Dante is artistic, sensitive and wears his heart on his sleeve. Ari is fiercely loyal, tough on the outside but on the inside is still finding his way. When an accident changes the dynamic of their summer friendship, they both need to come to terms with what they really mean to each other.

I love that this story unfolds at a pace that breathes –  Sáenz takes his time letting his characters get to know one another, through swim lessons and summertime meandering, through letters, and deep conversations. 

A beautiful and engaging look at a woman named Grace Porter who surprises herself and those around her when she marries a woman she barely knows during a girls’ Vegas trip. The reason I love this book is the way Grace’s friends support her when she makes a decision she barely understands, but they’re with her regardless of wherever this journey will ultimately lead. A group of people whose expectations are not the determination of their love for you is one of the things for which we all yearn.

The Pact was one of those books that made me want to become a writer. Picoult captured a controversial topic amongst young lovers and friends, and she did it with compassion and heart. I felt in my bones…I need to write a book like that. And that’s what I strive to do: to make readers feel. To make them think. To leave them wondering: what would I do in a similar situation? And mostly, opening their eyes to all the different sides to a single story, and seeing themselves…and the growth that’s possible. The Pact tells a great story, but the complexities of our lives are the real takeaway.