100 books like Hamlet's Mill

Reading Graves’ biography, I get the sense of not just his wry humour but of his enduring pain. When he covers his First World War service, his jokes are cracked out of exasperation at the orders he receives that led to a succession of “bloody balls-ups,” and retold through a wince.

Graves’ biography has been described as “a version of events that told the poetic truth about his experiences…rather than being primarily fact-driven.” I believe all biographies are a form of fiction as our own memories are more often a product of our imagination than photographic recall.

Graves’ poetic retelling allows a more universal resonance beyond the trenches of the Somme than if he just stuck to the facts of that time and place, and resonated more for me because of this. 

Back in the 18teens, the president of Yale somehow had enough free time to lead the senior class in debates of various “questions” followed by an extemporaneous “decision” on who was right.

Yale’s President Dwight certainly had plenty of amusing ideas (that California was frequently visited by mariners from “Hindostan”; that Africans who “never expose their faces to the sun are white”), but what makes his “decisions” so interesting is that many of the questions force him to examine counterfactual histories.

And so he describes what the world would have been like if the Crusades had not happened (Europe bound in a perpetual feudal system!) or if the South were to secede (and this is in 1813, remember!—anyway, it wouldn’t turn out well, Dwight says).

(I found an 1833 copy of this book jammed behind a shelf and torn to pieces back when I was working in a used book… show more.

Long before people had any tolerance for such nonsense—meaning back in 1822—an anonymous genius published an version of the life of Lord Nelson unlike any other. I mean specifically that this book, Albion, is 234 pages long and contains approximately forty-five impressionistic run-on sentences.

In 1922 such an account of a recent war—compare with David Jones’s strange, difficult WWI prose-poem "In Parenthesis," for example—would be merely audacious, but in 1822, it was completely baffling; which is too bad, because for two hundred years the text has lingered in obscurity. (I have reason to believe I’m the only living human to have read it in its entirety.)

But a pointillist biography of Nelson—as narrated by the great man himself to the angel that bears his soul to heaven after his death at Trafalgar—is exactly what the world has been missing!

There have been many descriptions of Atlantis published before, but very few have been written by someone who has actually been there, via psychic time travel, or at least via a series of dreams inspired by Atlantean stone furniture in Bolivia.

Fortunately, Walter F. Laredo has left us just such a book, and if he sometimes plays coy (maybe it was all just a dream???), he wonderfully includes an appendix of technical schematics of Atlantean inventions (bionic eyes, “chemical laser” beams) alongside full-color paintings of Atlantean architecture and the occasional nude Atlantean woman.

This book has long been a favorite of spiritual seekers, with its sweeping panoply of stories from antiquity’s gods and goddesses to the world’s wisdom traditions and more.

This is a book for those interested in the universality of human experience across time and culture—which I am. But even more, it opens our minds to the importance of a story itself.

Campbell helps readers understand that truth and fact are different—indeed, there are several kinds of truth: empirical truth, which depends on objective data, and also mythopoetic and narrative truth, which rely on symbols and stories to provide meaning.

Although this isn’t the first book in the series, I find it the most fun. I have a deep love for the myth series because it was the first series of books I ever read. They are a very traditional fantasy story about a wizard, his dragon, and a demon he pals around with. But, it is a tongue-in-cheek comedy rather than a serious epic tale.

The series reads fine out of order and you could start anywhere, but this one is my favorite.

This short book takes a deep dive into the nature of mythology and its relationship to the human mind. As well as the mythologies of past civilizations, Leeming examines modern-day myths and cultural beliefs and shows how myths are living and evolving things that serve a human need to understand the universe. If you have ever wondered what makes a myth a myth, or why everyone seems to have them, this book has some interesting answers.

A controversial, scholarly attempt at synthesizing and organizing the foundations of world mythologies may seem a strange selection. It’s certainly an enormous task, and Witzel could be wrong, but this sweeping book tantalizes and enriches any open mind with an interest in mankind’s story on Earth: two great separate migrations out of Africa carried differing concepts of the world’s origins. The first made its way around India to Australia. In this story, the world had no origin, it always existed in Dreamtime. Mankind emerged into time and joined all creatures and their landscapes. The second migration into Europe and Asia brought the foundations of Western traditions. The story is more familiar: an all-powerful deity created the world out of chaos or primordial waters, fashioned and breathed life into human beings, and thrust them into a world of constant struggle and conflict. If for some reason that doesn't sound familiar, reread… show more.

Another story we discuss in my mental health and literature class, and easily found in any collection of Dostoevsky, The Dream of the Ridiculous Man recounts one desperate and momentous night in the life of the titular depressive and proto-absurdist. His experience revolves around a faith-restoring dream in which (spoiler alert) the narrator shoots himself, is buried alive, pulled from the grave by a black angel, then flown through outer space to an alternate sun with an alternate earth where the local population is enjoying a shamelessly Edinic existence—that is, until the narrator contaminates them with his ego, causing them all to fall from grace, the description of which provides Dostoevsky the opportunity to recap the whole of human history in roughly three pages. Accurately no less. It’s a bravura performance.

The Oxford Companion is an encyclopedia, not a narrative, but I love that it includes stories from the Bible, the Quran, and other sacred texts alongside fantastical legends that span the globe. The line between myth and religion is, after all, largely subjective. King David, the nymph Daphne, and the Dayak myths of Borneo all share the same page. For those of us seeking inspiration in myth, the Oxford Companion offers ideas from Abraham to Ziusudra.