Fans pick 59 books like Amadeus

This is my favourite Dr. Seuss book (sorry, Horton!). Our hero is… um, maybe a bear? Anyway, he’s carefree, young, and lives in the Valley of Vung. Pretty idyllic, yes? Until it’s not. Poor guy gets attacked by creatures determined to bite off his body parts. Fortunately, a chap in a one-wheeler-wubble shows up (I love it when that happens) and offers to take him to Solla Sollew, “Where they never have problems, at least very few.” What follows is a hero’s journey crammed with no end of near-death experiences culminating in him finally reaching utopia to discover…he can’t get in. He’s been resilient all along, but it’s here he excels and decides to go home and face his problems head-on. Sure, he brings a club. But, well, different times…       

This is an absolute classic of the comic novel genre, so popular that it found its way onto the big screen. This dark comedy plays out more like a farce as we follow the misadventures of Henry Wilt, an underappreciated and frustrated teacher. His life spirals out of control due to a series of absurd and ridiculous misunderstandings. The novel’s momentum is driven by these absurdities and gross misinterpretations, all skillfully woven together by the flawed actions of a cast of colorful characters, each caricatured to deliver maximum comedic impact.

Tom Sharpe imbues his characters—whether it's the incompetency of the police, Wilt’s oppressive wife, or Wilt himself—with wit and cynicism. His writing is a blend of slapstick, satire, and dark comedy, frequently veering into the absurd and ridiculous. Despite the over-the-top plot, the novel maintains a consistent pace and a dry, ironic tone. As a comic novelist myself, who values… show more.

London, 1795 (the starting point in this book, for the current location and time, please check your phone). Ned Rise is a put-upon rogue whose life has been filled with personal catastrophes and several brushes with death. After being falsely accused of murder (because that’s how it goes when you’re Ned) he finds himself condemned to the malarial jungles of Africa, and providing free labour for the real-life Scottish explorer Mungo Park. Their fatal journey down the Niger River makes his days on the squalid streets of London look like a picnic, and Ned Rise proves to be more level-headed and resilient than the famous Scottish adventurer. T.C. Boyle is one of my favourite authors, and the creative energy and scathing social commentary in this fantastic book never lets up.       

I’m a total Looney Tunes fan. Okay, the Roadrunner and Coyote were never my go-to toons (I’m more of a Daffy man), but this short story hits the funny bone at just the right angle. The most resilient of all cartoon characters is Wile E. Coyote: Despite getting blown up, run over, and frequently falling off cliffs, he never quits. He’s a silent, comedic antagonist who always has new and creative approaches in his attempts to bag that bird. That said, there was a rather unhealthy reliance on those Acme products that never did him any good… So now he’s doing something about that! Wile E. has filed a product liability suit against the Acme Company. Those malfunctioning rocket sleds ruined his life and he’s seeking $17 million in damages. 

I cannot reasonably recommend Part Two without Part One. If we look at all the ghastly sins with which the eponymous hero has been involved by the end of that first drama, it seems inconceivable that he can possibly be redeemed.

Nevertheless, we have Goethe’s Part Two, completed twenty-four years after the earlier play, and by its conclusion, Faust has (somehow) been saved.

In fact, I sense some echo of Part One when Angelica’s unborn baby strangles on its cord: a far milder outcome for Paganini (who sired the child) than for Faust (whose Gretchen drowns their infant and is condemned to death). However, as the readers will see, Paganini truly loves the son he begets some years later.

In fairness, I read this book hoping for insights into the identity of Beethoven’s “Immortal Beloved,” a mystery it certainly does not resolve. However, many other aspects make the book worthwhile reading, notwithstanding the large historical liberties the author takes.

Smith’s Beethoven has been unable to appreciate the love so many have had for him. Who better to enlighten him than Napoleon, to whom he originally dedicated his third symphony (“Eroica”), only to scratch out the dedication and write instead, “to the memory of a great man”? What better vehicles than powerful, dream-like scenes (since in a sense, the whole book is a deathbed dream)?

Above all, whether the author has used fantasies, ghosts, or spirits, he has provided an interesting technique to present the supernatural events the protagonist experiences.

Paganini is not one of the composers the author discusses. However, I consider Secret Lives an important book, simply because it “spills the beans” about a number of these giants.

Gioachino Rossini is portrayed with some of his numerous shortcomings (though Paganini’s dalliances achieved far more notoriety). I shall mention a few significant historical facts: (1) he and Paganini were very close friends, (2) Paganini wrote a set of brilliant variations, I Palpiti, based on an aria from Rossini’s opera, Tancredi, and (3) Paganini did indeed conduct the debut of another Rossini opera, Matilde di Shobran.

Secret Lives was also a source I tapped for some of the information I presented about composers (including, most notably, Richard Wagner)  in one of my own novels.

I suspect I’ll raise a few eyebrows with this recommendation, notwithstanding the Amazon series it spawned (which ran for four seasons).

The book was not uniformly applauded, and it is difficult to know how accurate certain details are, given Tindall’s use of more than thirty pseudonyms and numerous denials from people she named. However, the prevalence of sex, drugs, and power politics in classical music is a harsh, ugly fact.

Classical musicians often misbehave, and if even those struggling for orchestral positions are guilty, how much worse might it be with the superstars? Obviously, I am thinking about Niccolò Paganini, but readers should also consider recent scandalous allegations against Placido Domingo and the late James Levine.

If Canone Inverso is your main course, The Murder of Figaro is the perfect dessert. It is light, frothy, and witty as a Mozart comic opera. As it should be, since the main characters are Mozart and his wife Constanze. Together, the frolicking pair must speedily solve the backstage murder of the government censor; otherwise, Mozart’s new opera, The Marriage of Figaro, will never see the light of day. Larson herself was an accomplished opera singer and has thorough insight into the opera world: the music, the business, and the backstage backstabbing. Written as a delightful opera buffa, this book is an absolutely fun read.