100 books like For Darkness Shows the Stars

Jane Austen wrote and revised most of her novels in a cottage lent to her by her brother in Chawton, England. This book is a fictional account of a group of individuals in post-World War II Chawton who are all lost—or have experienced great loss. They band together in an attempt to save Jane Austen’s home from destruction. I loved getting to experience the story from each of the character’s perspectives, and the author’s prose is delightful. This novel is a testament to how people from all walks of life have been changed by Jane Austen, and how reading Jane Austen can save us.

This is an adaptation of Austen’s Pride and Prejudice set in contemporary Pakistan.

I love Austen adaptations and this is one of my favorites. Funny, witty, and incisive, Kamal explores love, family, and the challenges women face in 21st-century Pakistan.

If you’re an Austen adaptation fan and you haven’t read this, you’re missing out. Also read if you enjoy brilliant storytelling.   

This is a brilliant book that you will want to read in print—not digitally—because, for every single page of Jane Austen’s classic novel, there is an accompanying page of annotations. This is a great book if you want to dive deeper into Pride and Prejudice. The annotations include pictures of carriages and locations in the novel; historical details that helped me understand property laws, relationships, and societal expectations; definitions and connotations of how words were used in Austen’s time, and much more. It’s written in a very readable style, and you can either read it from start to finish or skip around to your favorite passages.

This is the published script for a play that I desperately want to see if it’s ever performed near me. Pride and Prejudice* (*sort of) retells Pride and Prejudice from the perspective of the servants, who don costumes to act out the scenes of the story, sing karaoke to modern music, and provide hilarious and sometimes ruthless commentary on the characters, their relationship, and what it all means. While sometimes irreverent, the play manages to be both parody and homage to this great novel.

The Selection is based on reality TV shows like The Bachelor – only he’s a prince and girls compete to be selected into a life of royal privilege.

Just one problem for America Singer, she’s already in love with someone from a lower class and isn’t interested in crowns or jewels…until she meets the prince and realizes not everything is as it appears.

Fated or chosen mate relationships aren’t just a YA dystopian trope; finding the perfect partner is something most of us aspire to, and it’s always thrilling to read about a heroine who refuses her destined path and challenges the social status quo; throwing away a happily ever after in favor of freedom and adventure strikes a chord I can relate to.

Right away, I really loved the musical connection for the male lead’s side. He and his siblings are named after musicians, and I’m big on character names and I adored that element. Not to mention I’m a huge Swiftie and I peeped the title reference right away. Hendrix or “Drix” is recently released from juvie for a crime he did not commit and is inducted into a program aiming to give young offenders second chances and rehabilitate them, sponsored by the governor. And who does he meet while doing press releases for this program? The governor’s daughter Elle! This forbidden element had me engrossed immediately. I loved the idea of Drix being off-limits for Elle, but him being the only person she could be herself with and open up to!

Veronica Roth's Divergent is like a loyal companion that stuck by me during the unpredictable ride of middle school.

Tris Prior's journey felt strangely familiar, like a reflection of my own struggles—moving from vulnerability to discovering an inner strength I never knew existed. Roth crafted Tris into more than just a character; she became someone I looked up to, a personal source of motivation. The whole faction system, sorting people based on traits, hit close to home, echoing my own battles with fitting in.

In the maze of adolescence, Tris's rebellion and acceptance of her divergence felt like a reassuring guide through my own self-discovery. Divergent was groundbreaking for its time, making it a comfort and a source of courage when times got tough.

Veronica Roth's storytelling, paired with Tris's tenacity, turned a dystopian tale into a deeply personal journey through identity, resilience, and survival.

It might seem strange that this outrageous and thoroughly enjoyable comedy wound up on my list of workplace comedies.

In the original version of Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennet was stuck in a Regency-era comedy of manners. Her only choice of life “careers” was “wife.”

Grahame-Smith has taken Austin’s words and turned this classic upside down by giving her a very important job—Zombie Killer.

It’s a hilarious take on the power of women, and, strangely enough, adding a Zombie apocalypse has made some of the characters’ motivations much more understandable.

Elizabeth’s workplace is her small village in England, and, always on call, she has lots of work to do.

I loved this book, and I think Austin would have, too. It’s my kind of humor.

Perfect Chemistry is one of the books I read as a model for writing the character relationship between my young adult novel characters, Shantel and Christopher. Alex is the perfectly crafted bad boy character who falls in love with Brittany and in the process is changed with how he sees his life. 

I read this book long before Annie Ernaux was awarded the Nobel Prize. It was the first of her books that I read, and I was so seized by her style of narration that I proceeded to read with devotion everything she had written.

In one of the early pages of this book, Ernaux declares that in writing about her father, she didn’t want falsity or an overblown style, no artsy attempt to produce something “’ moving’ or ‘gripping.’” The style she followed was true to the life she was describing as a working-class man with minimum education. Here is a book that pays tribute to life but also enacts a credo for what Ernaux calls a “neutral way of writing”: “no lyrical reminiscences, no triumphant displays of irony.”