100 books like Fanny Hill

I love this book because it’s a satirical work that still feels relevant 300 years later. Both a whimsical parody of travel books and a dark satire on human nature, I love the book’s creativity: it features everything from poop scientists to talking horses and flying islands.

As with most early novels, the name of the author, Jonathan Swift, appears nowhere in the book—it was published as if the main character, Lemuel Gulliver, were the author. I love how the book is alternately audacious and subtle; Swift is extremely faithful to the dry style of the travel books he parodies, even as he narrates absurd events, making this one of the weirdest and funniest books of all time. 

I love the experimental and absurd sensibility of this novel. In an age known for its groundbreaking fiction, this work stands out for its playfulness and complexity. Like Swift, Sterne was a clergyman of the Church of England, and I love how intelligent and sophisticated he is about dirty jokes and silly scenarios.

I also appreciate Sterne’s commitment to pushing the envelope: Sterne inserts all sorts of oddities, from marble pages to graphical representations of the book’s winding narrative. The book obsesses over the minutiae and small details of everyday life even as it considers weighty issues and tragic events.

Predicting both Freud and postmodernism, I love how this work feels both ultra-modern and very much of its time. 

I love this book’s mixture of camp and macabre. Like Gulliver’s Travels, Walpole’s name didn’t appear in the original book—the preface claims it was a long-lost manuscript found in “the library of an ancient Catholic family in the north of England.”

Ghosts, giants, and dark secrets power this blend of medieval kitsch, tragic fatalism, and dark fantasy, and I find the strange mixture both funny and richly stylized. Walpole was a famous eccentric and obsessive about the lore of the Middle Ages, and I love how he mixes so many genres: he riffs on everything from Shakespeare to contemporary politics.

As a fan of Stranger Things, I love anything that creatively weaves together familiar genres while producing something new for the present. In doing so, Walpole helped to create the formula for contemporary horror. 

I love how this book elevates lying into an art form. Following the convention of the era, Defoe published the work as if it were written by its main character, Robinson Crusoe. Crusoe stands out from its peers for the subtlety of its mimicry. I envy how natural and easy Defoe makes writing look.

The book reveals the novel’s roots in other genres, such as satire, journalism, religious writing, and personal narrative. Defoe excelled at all of these, and I find the strange convergence mesmerizing. It’s possible to see the outlines of these earlier traditions even as something like a modern novel comes into view.

With apologies to Oprah and James Frey, this book helps me remember that the best writers have always been a bit loose with the truth. 

I was struck by this when I read it decades ago, and returned to it while researching. The Humbler Creation, written in the ’60s and set in the ’40s, gives a vivid depiction of that physically and morally shattered and patched-over post-war era.

Maurice, a repressed clergyman, lives with his wife Libby and her widowed sister, Kate, but right from the get-go, there’s the feeling that he and Kate would be better suited. But because of convention, this is not to be, and the frustrated Maurice and Kate seek satisfaction elsewhere. Passion, scandal, and tension ensue.

The characters, the dynamics between them, the sparky dialogue, and the 1940s setting all contribute to making this an addictive read. I was even more riveted the second time around.

This is an incredibly interesting, well-written, and informative book that lays out the case for the amazing success of liberal democracies based on the Enlightenment values of liberty, universal humanism, and individualism.

I consider this book an essential reading for everyone who has been brainwashed by the current pessimistic and catastrophizing ideologies attacking this most successful of all human civilization.

Pinker is an outstanding writer, and the empirical evidence he marshals for the success and values of the Enlightenment in promoting human flourishing is utterly persuasive.

O’Brien looks at the place of women in the British Enlightenment in two ways. Historians, especially in Scotland, offered progressive narratives of the history of civilization, in which women had the task of softening the manners of history’s male protagonists. Women writers, on the other hand, could not be reduced to such a subordinate role, but were independent-minded and often radical. We have all heard of the feminist Mary Wollstonecraft, but she had many predecessors, notably the politically radical historian Catharine Macaulay, whose voices are presented here.

The philosopher and polemicist Sala-Molins fired a bow shot across Enlightenment scholarship with this book in 1992. In an era when most French scholars of the Enlightenment continued to study (and valorize) the figureheads of the era, Sala-Molins attributed the supposed silence of the philosophes regarding the horrors of chattel slavery to deep-seated racism. More polemically he called out individual thinkers such as Voltaire and Montesquieu, the latter of whom Sala-Molins memorably called a négrier or slave trader. Peu importe or little does it matter that the book itself is rife with historical inaccuracies. The Dark Side of the Light was and is a powerful cri de coeur directed at scholars of the eighteenth century, a plea for them to look more carefully at the legacies – good and bad – that we now associate with the Enlightenment. 

The Enlightenment is often associated with intellectual changes. But the book sheds a new light on this “Age of Reason” by showing how emotions and feelings played a crucial role in this intellectually and sensorially dynamic period. Purnell tells this change by providing many interesting, and funny, episodes. My favorite, among others, is the seventeenth-century vogue for perfumes made of the excretions of the civet cat or the musk deer, and it was only in the mid-eighteenth century that floral scents became popular. This shift had to do with people’s ideas about health, cleanliness, and naturalness that changed over time. You will learn how and why people in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries thought about the senses, how they experience their sensory world, and how our sensory experience came about over the course of a few hundred years.

For centuries German historians underplayed the Enlightenment, treating it as an unwelcome foreign import. Writing with the zeal almost of a missionary, Reed shows that Germany participated fully in the Enlightenment, and that the great luminaries of the German classical age, Goethe and Schiller, continued its endeavours in individual and sometimes idiosyncratic ways. He also offers a unique introduction to the philosophy of Kant, showing how it developed in the specific milieu of Prussia under the Enlightened despot Frederick the Great, and drawing attention also to his pioneering work as a theoretical scientist: Kant was the first person to suggest that the nebulae visible beyond the Milky Way might be separate galaxies.