86 books like Dr. No

This is a book that has sparked a thousand imitations. If a writer isn’t honest, he’s not doing his job, and Nick Hornby is painfully honest here about his self-destructive, blokey obsessions with football and music. It’s a trailblazer of a book and a theme that resonates with a lot of men, me included.

Why would anyone seriously want to attend a family wedding when your team is playing in a cup final? How inconsiderate can a couple be to get married on the final day of the cup? To hold those thoughts–without a hint of irony–is viewed as an affliction and an absurdity by many. But of course, they don’t understand! 

It's not an easy read, but I read this one and Cormac McCarthy’s The Road back-to-back. These are two books about lost souls walking away from something, not knowing where they’re going.

Michael K is another character who invokes more sympathy/pity than admiration. Sometimes, I didn’t overly care about Michael K’s suffering, feeling he’d brought it on himself. Mostly, though, I wanted him to find his simple peace.

JM Coetzee is such a good writer. His sparse but full sentences always deliver something.

Keith Waterhouse is a forgotten writer nowadays, which is a shame. His dreamy character, Billy Liar, is a brilliant creation and one for all ages–the original young man stifled by family, boredom, and expectations who wants to break free from it all and live out the life he’s already living for himself in his head.

I read this book when I was a teenager, probably because my Dad often called me and my brother ‘Billy Liar,’ such as when I told him I wanted to be a jockey. I was too heavy for that profession, even then (plus, I’d never sat on a horse and still haven’t). Still, that’s the joy and absurdity of this book; it takes the notion of following your dreams to a new and dangerous level.

Personally, I’m always fascinated with dreamers like Billy. But there are times when his life choices make you groan.

I like Miles Jupp and his self-deprecating humor. I imagine him to be very polite. Here, he blags his way around India, trying to convince others–and himself–that he’s a cricket journalist.

The book is funny but also painful, a bit like watching The Office; you’ll laugh one minute and probably wince the next. Miles is often bumbling and apologetic and is not a very good ‘fibber in the heat.’ Yet he keeps on fibbing. Politely! People soon work him out, but all the same, he earns loads of sympathy as an underdog in desperate need of some charity.  

On the surface, OOTSP is about a British linguist who’s kidnapped to Mars, then escapes to meet pensive furry seal-people who teach him Earth sucks. Lewis borrows from H.G. Wells’ space travel and—this was written pre-space-age—his haunting, fantastical solar system doesn’t match what we’ve learned since, but his totally unique take on the physics of interdimensional beings rips the pants off anything anyone else ever wrote in metaphysical sci-fi. These angels aren’t your church’s cherubs, they’re not Frank Peretti’s white-robed super-soldiers, and they’re not Aslan and friends: Lewis actually took the limited science he had at the time about space and dimensional theory, and applied that science to his spirituality with fascinating imagination. The second book in this series, Perelandra, was always my favorite for its tense philosophy, gorgeous floating continents, and tortured protagonist, but Out of the Silent Planet—with ideas comparable in scope to Vernor Vinge’s “Zones… show more.

I recently re-read this book, and it returned me at once to the joy and strangeness of the first time I read it.

Lewis offers up the theory that perhaps what we know in this world as myth and archetype exists in reality on other planets. The book brings that thought to vivid life. It detonates all the power and perplexity of the first chapters of "Genesis" and replays "Paradise Lost" on the floating blissful islands of Venus.

Though the endnote is one of glorious joy, few have been as good at depicting evil as Lewis was. Written at the height of the horrors of the Second World War, the Un-Man has haunted my nightmares for much of my life.

The third book of the Space Trilogy combines lore of medieval England, Merlin the magician, myth, academic snobbery, the status of marriage, God, and scientists determining what the rules are for the rest of society.

This science fiction tale compares to the best of Jules Verne, with a little bit of Mary Shelley and Ray Bradbury thrown in for good measure. Lewis’s imagination and literary talent are on full display in this swipe at elitism, technocracy, and ambition, all of which points toward the elimination of biological life and the artificial horror that will replace it.

Many may be surprised that this Christian apologist wrote several science fiction books. For those who love this genre, I highly recommend giving this one a try.

I love how much Mercy learns about herself. I also really admire the time and space and, above all, respect Briggs's investments in Mercy's witting and unwitting explorations of her powers and heritage. And how Mercy reacts to revelations about her mother and mostly unknown father. I, at least, admire when Mercy is allowed to get cranky and try to pick and choose what she wants to keep or discard, approve or disapprove.

All this, and it's a heck of a roller coaster ride. I rode the slow build-up, increasingly bracing myself for the first big drop, and then whoop-whoop-whoop, I whirled up and down and sideways to the end.

I love how Lyra’s world is so different from ours, yet doesn’t require a huge leap of faith to believe. The science-like attention to detail somehow makes it sensible. Are there talking polar bears who shape metal with their paws and claws? Yes. Are my objections to that bizarre idea addressed so well that I accept it as normal? Also yes. 

The amount of thought put into the world makes the unreal feel very real, in other words. Yes, there are subtle magical forces, witches, and humans tethered to literal spirit animals…but scientists have studied and invented machines to work with all of it the same way we work with forces in our own world that we don’t understand. This series respects its readers' intelligence, regardless of age.

I have to admit, if I had the ability to see vamps, that would be both fascinating and scary. And apparently, SPI (Supernatural Protection and Investigation) feels the same way.

Makenna Fraser is a supernatural detective for SPI who is tasked with discovering who’s behind a magic-infused drug that allows humans to see vamps, monsters, and other creatures. The clock is ticking, and the city of New York’s—and the entire world’s fate rest in her hands.