100 books like Hamlet

We all know the title. It’s become a record-breaking musical phenomenon. The book is a phenomenon in itself. It was a voyage I took for a few spellbound weeks, and I read it in a stone house in a small village in the South of France. It is a book of great sympathy and grace. 

Victor Hugo’s heart is large—at least measured by this story of an escaped prisoner who tries to do good with his life but is pursued relentlessly by a police officer, Javert. I found with this book, as the great writers always show me, that character is all. Hugo drew me into the struggles and losses of his people so ably and memorably that I still think of them years later. 

Fourteen-year-old Mattie Ross has got grit.

This book was recommended to me by my firefighter brother, who often reads what I call “he-man” books. The titles always have words like mutiny, bullets, gangsters, firestorm, etc. So, when he suggested I read this book, I had my reservations. (In fairness, the books he recommends consistently end up on my list of all-time favorites–I guess that’s what I get for pre-judging!) In any case, over the years, I have learned the one thing we both love in a protagonist–and now I have a name for it–is grit. I can’t recommend this book highly enough.

I love Sack’s empathy toward his patients and his commitment to telling a different and highly unique narrative about the human experience. His classic collection of essays is not about intelligence, but each patient he writes about knows and understands the world differently than what is considered normal.

Sacks makes room for the challenges and brilliance of all ways of being in the world.

Everybody loves this book because it, of course, has become an international classic of literature and one of the best works F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote, which takes the reader on a time-traveling secretive world of the upper-class set in New England life in the 1920s.

In F. Scott's work, we are casually and comfortably introduced to an America where new money met old money, and the tender tightrope one had to walk in order to vie for position, marriage, and peer acceptance in a world founded on wealth and prestige.    

This book explores the universal themes of ignorance and political dictatorship. It shows how the Taliban conspired against the protagonist to harm him and destroy books. The Sultan, the protagonist, who stands for knowledge, is crushed by the Taliban and imprisoned because he is a distributor of books. 

The Sultan embodies the pursuit and dissemination of knowledge, perhaps as a teacher, librarian, or simply someone who believes in the power of education and free thought. His imprisonment by the Taliban underscores the conflict between enlightenment and oppression, as the Taliban seeks to suppress ideas and control the population through fear and ignorance.

My love for the book likely stems from the emotional impact of Sultan's plight, as I witness the injustice of a man being punished for his commitment to something as fundamental and noble as sharing knowledge. The narrative explores themes of resistance, resilience, and the enduring power of… show more.

Perhaps the most classic work of horror fiction in both literature and cinema. As an English teacher, I find that there is so much fodder for lessons prevalent in this book–nature vs nurture, the dangers of forbidden knowledge and playing God, the arrogance of science, and who the real monster is. I particularly love the difference between The Monster in the novel and the film, its articulation, desires, abilities, and even its physical appearance. Few written works have been more seminal.

What? You didn’t know there was a book? There is! Now, the movie is, in my humble opinion, the most perfect movie ever made, but the book came first.

I read the book ages ago and fell in love with it. More in-depth than the movie and a little different in places, it is worth the read, and if you want to follow up with a small, equally as fun read, try The Silent Gondoliers, also by Goldman.

Long after I began studying Italian, I resisted reading Italy’s greatest poet. His classic book seemed too daunting, too distant, too dull. Then, an Italian teacher gave me the first adaptation of the La Divina Commedia that she had read as a girl: a vintage Italian Walt Disney comic book featuring Mickey Mouse (Topolino in Italian) as Dante with Minnie Mouse as his adored Beatrice.   

I was so intrigued that I bought an English translation of the Divine Comedy—several, although I’m partial to John Ciardi’s. My unanticipated reaction: Wow! Like modern readers ensnared by the wizardly world of Harry Potter, I skidded into a fully imagined alternate world. An action-packed, high-adrenalin, breath-taking, rip-roaring yarn leaped off the pages into vivid, writhing, pulsating life. If you love action-packed tales and also seek insights into the Italian soul, read The Inferno. Purgatorio and Paradiso are optional. 

I love this book because it taught me so much about myself. When I read it as a teen, I was enthralled with Edmond’s exciting revenge plots against those who had wronged him. When he decides at the end that he’s gone too far, it seems like an afterthought. But as an adult, I see it differently.

Now, it’s clear that his regret at the end IS the point because he spent so much time becoming as cruel as those that he hated. By focusing on his enemies, he couldn’t be there for those who had loved him. His grand revenge now just seems like a wasted life. More than a sumptuous story, this book shows me the dangers of letting anger win out over love. 

I love this book because it feels deep—it is deep—but it’s also engaging. There’s a story and characters to follow, but at its core, it’s a fascinating introduction to philosophy.

The meaning of life, the big questions, how to understand and negotiate the world. I first read it as a teenager during my gap year in Southeast Asia, and it was the perfect mental companion to the bombardment of my physical senses. Zen turned my perception of the world upside down, and I reread it occasionally.

It has one of the most memorable titles of all time, and I still quote its core message, which involves motorcycle maintenance.