100 books like The Sheltering Sky

In his tragicomic novel The Good Soldier, Ford Madox Ford’s thickheaded narrator John Dowell trolls, over and over again, through the detritus of his life, searching vainly for the origins of his predicament—namely, that he has been duped by his wife and her lover, his supposedly best friend and the “good soldier” of the novel’s title. When Dowell finally succumbs to the utter hopelessness of his situation, he turns away from his audience in a brash attempt to bargain with a misbegotten universe, and his dreams of an impossible reconciliation with the world become our own: “Is there any terrestrial paradise where, amidst the whispering of the olive-leaves, people can be with whom they like and have what they like and take their ease in shadows and in coolness?” In his greatest moment of anguish and uncertainty, Dowell grasps for the poetry of language to sate his weary soul.

Reading this book in college was a powerful experience for me, as it highlights how easy it is for fascism to take over with a very personal narrative style that emphasizes the humanity of the main character.

I love that this book is written in first-person point of view from a “handmaid’s” perspective, as it makes the story especially engaging and puts the reader in Offred’s shoes. While the subject matter can be difficult to read at times, I believe that this book is important for every new adult seeking to understand how they can play a role in protecting the rights and dignity of those around them.

When it comes to finding inspiration in our memories, Marcel Proust is literature’s gold standard. The French novelist devoted the balance of his life to the art of refracting his memories through the lens of his writerly self. Proust understood implicitly that our memories are triggered by sensory experiences—sights, sounds, smells, and touch, to be sure—but most especially through the pleasures of the text. In Du côté de chez Swann, the first volume of his epic À la recherche du temps perdu, Proust interrogates the ways in which memory is catalyzed by the senses, while comprehending, at the same time, the manner in which the reality of our memories becomes shaped by the ruinous work of nostalgia, of a sentimentality that exists beyond our ken.

I have always shied away from reading Lolita, not having the slightest desire to read about a middle-aged man’s sexual obsession with a twelve-year-old. Still, I could not compile a list of books about girls in inappropriate relationships without including this novel, the most famous book of all time on the subject.

I now fully appreciate why it has stood the test of time. I loved the dark comedy, often tipping into farce, the fabulous turns of phrase, the elaborate yet pin-sharp descriptions, and the blending of such sinister subject matter with the banalities of American post-war consumerism. Humbert Humbert is a truly deviant, disgustingly loathsome paedophile, but he’s funny and clever, and no one hates him more than he hates himself.

Set in Japan in the period just before World War II, this is the story of Sachiko and her three sisters.

Yukiko is in need of a husband, but she is stiff in her old-fashioned habits. Taeko, by contrast, is a rebel who sleeps with men and becomes pregnant. Sachiko, modeled by Tanizaki on his pretty and spirited wife, loves all of her sisters and feels responsible for them.

I found the picture of the sisters’ daily life, which was by turns cosmopolitan, traditional, and modern, fascinating in its detail. One thing follows another, open-ended, surprising, and completely authentic in feel. I cannot recommend this book enough!

I read Ann Tyler for her unrivaled ability to create heartfelt stories illuminated by humor about family in all its broken splendor.

The trepidatious Macon Leary is our accidental tourist, writer of an advice column full of tips for making travel feel like staying home. He’s lost his son; his wife has left him. He’s back living with his two brothers and sister when Edward, his choleric Welsh Corgi, starts biting people. This bit of bad luck pulls him into the orbit of the irritating, opinionated, big-hearted dog trainer, Muriel, and on a journey back to a life worth living for both Macon and his dog.

Read The Accidental Tourist if your family (or certain members thereof) make you crazy. You will feel seen. (It’s also a terrific movie.)

Peter Cameron is one the most stylish and original writers working today.

This novel from 1997 is a vivid, haunting journey to an imaginary version of Andorra. I’m tempted to say that the whole arc of the story is an armchair voyage, but to elaborate would give away the ending, which is one of the more thrilling, shocking, and satisfying final pages I know. I sometimes reread the book to see how Cameron pulled it off.

The narrator, who says he’s in Andorra after a tragic event, moves into the Hotel Excelsior, a setting that becomes a character. The entire novel has the disorienting immediacy of a fever dream and an undercurrent of ambisexual tension and sensuality, all served up with Cameron’s incisive wit. 

It’s unusual to read a novel that doesn’t feel like anything else you’ve ever read, but Nancy Lemann’s voice is so original and arresting, this book stands alone among reading experiences for me.

It’s a love story between Louise and her wealthy wastrel paramour, Claude Collier, all set against the backdrop of humid, overgrown New Orleans. Lemann’s sentences are so atmospheric, I felt drugged by them.

Even now, I have a hard time distinguishing my memories of having been to New Orleans from the descriptions of it in the novel. I reread it every year or two, not for the story—which I know by heart—but for the feelings it induces.

Did I mention it’s super short and one of the most hilarious novels I’ve ever read?

Atkinson’s Pulitzer Prize winning opener to his World War II trilogy reads like a novel. It also succeeds in the almost impossible task of bringing military history alive, weaving expertly drawn biographies of individuals at all levels of the US military into a grand narrative of the campaign to liberate North Africa in 1942-43.

Perhaps a more serious book, but the only book to really record and discuss the culture and history of the Berbers (preferred contemporary name, Amazigh) in Morocco. This book and its author were fundamental in my historical research for 11th-century Morocco and was fairly accessible for an academic textbook. Many cultures have their histories ‘lost’ because no one pays enough attention to them and Berber history is worth knowing.