100 books like Ivanhoe

I’ve read pretty much everything by Bernard Cornwell, but The Last Kingdom (the first in a series of 13 novels) is most definitely my favorite, not only because it takes place during a time of English history I am most familiar with (very early Middle Ages), but because Uthred!! If you’ve seen the Netflix series, you know what I mean. I have a thing for warrior heroes, in case you haven’t noticed, and Uthred is the ultimate. The story is loosely based on a 9th-century warlord named Uthred the Bold—I recently learned that Cornwell is his descendent. Pretty cool. No one writes better historical content than Cornwell, blending fact and fiction so seamlessly, you’d think you were reading a very exciting history book.

I utterly loved this book so much it is in the top five books I ever read. Although it is years since I read it I still remember Aliena (the main female character) so well it is as if I know her personally. I wish there were a sequel with her in it. 

The book had it all – a fantastic plot that grabs you from the first chapter and then branches off into seemingly unconnected subplots, and it is only at the end that it all comes together. An amazing job and inspired me more than any other book as a writer.  

Do we need architects for our homes? Well, it seems that in the past they often failed to be there. Bernard Rudovsky, who was himself an architect, featured in 1964 an exhibition dedicated to the topic at the New York MoMA. The related catalogue, Architecture Without Architects, has since then turned into an iconic book. A beautiful set of black and white pictures that describes a primitive state of the art in which skilled but anonymous builders applied throughout the planet the laws of nature giving birth to what is presently labeled as vernacular styles. No names survived despite the talents, in this collection featuring the first steps of architecture, but rationality and functionality are already there, long before Modernism would make them its core principles. It was a pleasant surprise to discover in this book some kind of credit to my belief that medieval castles may have inspired… show more.

“When K looked at the castle he sometimes thought he saw someone sitting quietly there, looking into space, (…) as if he were alone and no one was observing him…” 

It seems that castles are watching us, with some kind of emotional detachment. This impression is described in this famous Kafka novel featuring a traveler stranded in a remote Mitteleuropa village who despite his tenacity fails to reach the castle that overlooks the place. Apart from the usual kafkaesque absurdity, this unfinished novel brings to mind the feeling of oddness that someone often goes through when approaching a castle, facing its uncanny presence. Even more, it conveys the strange fact that the path that leads to them, probably because of their unusual scale, seems always endless.

I had already included some Spanish castles in my project when I heard about the Reinhard Wolf book and discovered his unsettling pictures. This German artist had photographed the same castles half a century before me, using the same analogic films and the same traditional view cameras, composing frames that I had reproduced without knowing his work. It seems that buildings, like human beings, have a good profile which a photographer cannot miss. The other surprise came from the unexpected feeling that my photographs had been shot prior to Reinhart Wolf’s. Because the castles had meantime been restored, their walls being refreshed, the course of time seemed reversed: they appeared in an earlier condition through my camera than photographed 50 years before, when partly ruined. Having in mind that photography is much about time and traces, the discovery was puzzling. By chance the scope of my personal project was not… show more.

What does a castle and Noah’s ark have in common? What is a castle, if not an over-dimensioned hull? In Globes, part of his Sphere trilogy, the philosopher Peter Sloterdijk brings architecture to its anthropological origin, the necessity to regain the initial womb’s protection, a shared comfort zone confronting exterior threats. Like the mythical cities in which history always start by a ground delimitation, the castles are erecting their walls and closing their gates to preserve the interior world and its coherence from the exterior chaos. In an analogy to the Middle Age, gated communities reproduce in a regressive way this reality. Only the privileged will be saved.

Is Undine Spragg Edith Wharton’s least admiral protagonist? Perhaps. But as well, she is her most beguiling.

With her modest mid-western roots and her hunger for something more, she personifies the American dream, only she incarnates its less noble form. Cunning and beautiful, she uses her every charm exclusively in service to her ambition.

There is something thoroughly modern about her self-belief, her perpetual reinvention. It’s impossible to look away as she ruthlessly forges her own future, defying expectations and conventions time and again. 

They say what goes around comes around; but when it comes to Undine Spragg we are constantly left wondering if the truism can hold.

I still remember the day I bought Kaufman’s book in a London bookstore near Westminster Abbey—a girl disguises herself as a boy in medieval England and goes in search of the king, so her estate can be restored. Sign me up! It was my first encounter with the magic of historical fiction, the best of which is immersive and alive, without dull data dumps or jarring anachronisms. This wonderful (and, for me, life-changing) story ticks all my boxes: smart heroine; rich, real characters; scenery that doesn’t creak; and a thumping good romance. Last, but absolutely not least, The Shield of Three Lions is stuffed with hilarious lines and scenes. An author who can make me laugh? Her price is far above rubies.

As an author of Regency romances, I think of Forester’s Hornblower novels as the guy-friendly equivalents, and I tried and tried to get my son to read these. Sigh. The series follows a Royal Navy man during the Napoleonic Wars, from his days as a lowly midshipman to his zenith as an admiral, and every last book in the series is so stinking good. Forester writes the most bang-up action scenes and has researched the heck out of everything, without ever bludgeoning you over the head with it. His characters are alive—flawed and fascinating and funny. In short, if this man weren’t dead for the last sixty years, I would marry him.

Technically speaking, this isn’t historical fiction because, when Trollope wrote it, it was contemporary (Victorian) fiction. But if you love Austen adaptations or anything set in later periods where people wore fancy, constrictive clothing, this book is for you. Barchester is a cathedral town getting a new bishop, and, oh, man, is everyone in a tizzy. Every cleric is angling for a promotion, simultaneously falling at the feet of the exotic Signora Madeline Vesey Neroni while refusing to bow the knee to the new powers that be. And if you have a soft spot for henpecked husbands, Trollope wrote one for the ages, with wife Mrs. Proudie stealing every scene. For my money, with his keen eye and wicked humor, Trollope is the true heir to Jane Austen.