100 books like Eastbound

If we are not killer apes, if war is not inevitable, how does it happen? Obviously because people were not up to the challenges of maintaining peace. Margaret MacMillan’s riveting account of the events leading up to the Great War, the First World War, shows in all-too-clear detail how not to go about avoiding war. The German Kaiser, Wilhelm, was petty and boastful and altogether too proud and confident of his totally inadequate abilities. The Tsar of Russia, Nicholas, was cut from the same cloth. But whereas Wilhelm made up his mind quickly and then was unmovable, Nicholas could never make up his mind. Between them, helped by other inadequates in places of high status and power, millions of young men lay dead on the fields of Flanders, in Northern France.

Pauline Viardot (1821-1910) was one of the most celebrated prima donnas of the nineteenth century, but she was much more than a typical diva. She was also one of the most versatile artists of the era, a talented composer, arranger, teacher, autograph collector, entrepreneur, salonnière, and promoter of early music. While fictionalized, this novel sticks closely to historical events of her life, focusing on her marriage to Louis Viardot, her long-lasting affair with Russian author Ivan Turgenev, and the unconventional and loving bonds that formed between these three extraordinary artists. If you’re looking for historical fiction about one of the most fascinating divas of the nineteenth century, An Unofficial Marriage is a great choice.

This book is brilliant quality, beautifully designed, and really good value. It shows the natural beauty and fragility of the unspoilt natural environment of Sark, a tiny Channel Island off the coasts of England and France.

To look at its contents is to love it. Illustrations from over 20 internationally famous wildlife artists show how the environment is both rugged and beautiful. A plethora of unpesticided flora vies with an unmatched diversity of wildlife, shown with artistic skill. The life of the people and their unique world is reflected by artists from England, Russia, France, Germany, and Holland.

Its incredible value is to show the world what a lovely place the Island is, though yet under danger of unsympathetic change. Thankfully there are still no motorcars.

This book is so subtle and intelligent that it makes me smile at almost every line. Sarraute hates nothing more than clichés and the narcissistic self-indulgence of memoirs. In Childhood, the inner dialogue between the narrator and her memory allows her to avoid these pitfalls and resurrect the past with an amazing emotional accuracy. The questions asked by her critical self deepen her memory and lead to a delicate, vivid, and funny rendering of her childhood at the beginning of the twentieth century in Paris between her divorced Russian parents.

This series about a Bow Street Runner piqued my interest as, like Reacher and Sharpe, he is a bit of a rogue but tries to do what is right while also breaking the rules at times. What appeals to me about his character is that he was unjustly discharged but did his best to secure another profession that tries to help people. The description and action scenes are very believable however Hawkwood isn’t as indestructible as Reacher. His vulnerability and pragmatism are features that I have molded into the main character in my novel too.

When she died in 1917, Dr. Elsie Inglis was given a memorial service in Westminster, with columns of press tributes to one of Scotland’s first women doctors, and the leader of WWI frontline hospitals staffed entirely by women. ‘Go home and be still,’ the male doctors said when she suggested it, so she went to the women’s suffrage societies for funds. Her doctors, nurses, orderlies, and ambulance drivers chanted ‘Go home and be still’ gleefully to each other under fire and on retreats with the allied army in France, Serbia, Romania, and Russia. Somehow, whatever the difficulty, if Dr. Inglis said it had to be done, it was. An inspirational leader and a truly remarkable woman.

Domestic suspense is having a moment. These aren’t your “damsel in distress” stories where a woman waits for someone to save her. I like women who bounce back hard after a setback, and this book is exactly that.

Without spoilers, when Stella’s husband goes missing after a bombing, she can’t accept the fact she has to start over. I love the fact she wants answers, and when she doesn't get them, she strikes out on her own.

Kimberly Belle creates strong female lead characters in her books, and if you’re like me, they keep you turning the pages. Kimberly is always one of my must-buy authors—The Paris Widow is no exception.

I love stories about iconoclasts, and Joan of Arc fits that description, if anyone ever has.

The hard reality of this retelling draws me in: Joan’s a secular military leader who grew up toughened from her father’s blows rather than a pious young woman who hears voices. That skeptical take may offend some readers, but the history, politics, and personalities come vividly to life and seem real to me.

Chen’s seductive prose makes me wish I could write like her, and her novel lets me feel the tragedy and uplift of a great historical figure.

I love this book because it is raw. For those who dismiss erotic writing, because they think there are only a finite number of ways to write about sex and sexuality, I recommend this book. The raw and transformative way it writes about the attraction, longing, and pain of sex is joyous and agonising to read.

I love it because I don’t actually like either of the main characters, and liking the characters can often rescue a book from otherwise poor writing. I loved this book despite disliking the main characters. 

This book is about a heroin addict. However, you don’t need to be a heroin addict to sympathize with its protagonist’s existential weariness—or ennui, as the French call it. I know I do. After exiting a rehabilitation clinic, he wanders around listlessly, visiting friends and acquaintances, trying to find a reason to go on, yet finding none.

The story may be better known for the excellent film adaptation by Louis Malle—which switches heroin for alcohol—yet the terse and evocative writing of the original novel nevertheless packs a punch. The fact that the protagonist was closely inspired by the author’s friend lends an element of authenticity to it, making his suffering all the more relevant.