100 books like Miracle at St. Anna

My recent literary quest across the Levant ends around 6000 years ago. A few years later, at the end of the 19th century, Twain made his journey in the same region. Surprisingly, not much has changed.

His book is a witty, arrogant, and very funny look at a land full of history…and annoying flying insects. 

The story literally begins with a 100-year-old man climbing out of his window and disappearing into the night. But this is no ordinary man. No, this is Allan Karlsson, a Swedish man who has lived a long and incredibly eventful life. With only a suitcase in hand, he heads to the local bus station, where, much like in Tom Sharpe’s Wilt, he inadvertently becomes involved in a series of absurd and unpredictable events with equally absurd and unpredictable characters.

Unlike the darker tones of Palahnuik or Amis, Jonas's humor is gentle and charming, making for a much lighter read. On the surface, the story might sound rather humdrum, but as we learn more about Allan and his past, the book quickly becomes a glorious page-turner. The narrative alternates between present-day escapades and flashbacks to Allan's involvement in major historical events, including encounters with famous leaders at pivotal moments in… show more.

On a recent visit to Ireland, A Thousand Moons was recommended by an Irish writer.

I did not know that there were Irish soldiers who fought in the Civil War. Since my family was originally from Ireland, (although they immigrated around the time of the Revolutionary War), this interested me. Thomas McNulty, one of the main characters in the novel, is an Irishman who fought in the Civil War and then later in the Indian War.

Winona, an orphan from the Lakota tribe, who used to Ojinjintka tells this tale. She was rescued by Thomas McNulty from being massacred. McNulty might be a tough guy, but he is also a cross-dresser! McNulty and his fellow soldier and partner, Cole adopt Winona as their own. When they are attacked by lawless militias, they must flee for their lives.

This novel really gives the reader a clear picture of the lawlessness of… show more.

I reviewed this novel, and I really loved it. Many folks think they know what migrants experience from the news, but this novel tells the story with a different spin: an Egyptian Bedouin who tries to get to Italy via Libya.

Living in Libya is as absurd as it is dangerous. The narrator is a hassler, but you still feel sorry for him when he almost gets killed by a customer for using cheap spray paint in a body shop in Libya. Besides the body shop, he works as a bootlegger, cook, and a concrete-block maker before he makes a harrowing crossing on a flimsy boat across the Mediterranean.

Once in Italy, he gets a few jobs in construction but then falls into a gang of drug dealers. He is Egyptian but pretends to be an Iraqi named “Baffo.” One crazy thing happens after another until he needs to make… show more.

I was surprised to learn that John Hersey won a Pulitzer Prize in 1945 for a novel—in fact, his first. I had always thought of him as mainly a journalist for The New Yorker. One of my students recommended this. He was the grandson of the model for the main character, an Italian-American US Army major. My student was proud of his “nonnu,” the Allied military governor of a Sicilian village, for his efforts to help the starving villagers.

What they wanted more than food, though, was to replace the church bell that Mussolini had requisitioned to melt down and make into weapons. Spoiler alert: in the novel (and in real life), he succeeds—despite opposition from a superior officer, a thinly disguised General George S. Patton.

I encountered this book backward. As a teenager growing up at the end of the US war in Vietnam, I read the Mad magazine spoof of the movie version long before I saw the movie itself, and then I read the novel. I focused on the antiwar theme and the concern of the bomber crew to get home without getting shot down.

The novel was based on Heller’s wartime experience, but I hardly realized it was about bombing Italy until I discovered the papers one of his crewmates had donated to Cornell University. I learned how many of the episodes were based on real incidents, including the only time the novel focuses on Italian civilians—when the crew objects to destroying an Italian Alpine village of no military significance. 

Michael Ondaatje’s novel is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. It is not a study or analysis of Herodotus’ history, and yet Herodotus’ spirit infuses virtually every page. Taking place during World War II, it explores the intertwined lives of four characters, including the unnamed English patient, who has survived the shooting-down of his plane, although he is severely burned.

He has nothing with him but his annotated copy of Herodotus’ Histories. I loved Anthony Minghella’s 1996 film adaptation of the novel, and it is no criticism of the film to say that it treats only one of the many strands one finds in the book. Meditating on space, time, identity, and truth, The English Patient is a book that I think Herodotus would have loved.

This book provided an insight into WWII in Italy. It is captivating and informative.

It tells the story of Pino, a brave 17-year-old who not only spied on the Germans who occupied his homeland but also crossed the Alps many times to save Jewish people. Full of mystery and intrigue, it was hard to put down until the end.

Like the Catch-22 character, Yossarian, Burns spent part of his time as a soldier censoring prisoner-of-war letters. His own prose was considered transgressive for its time. What struck me was not only his subject matter—who else wrote in 1944 about drunken, gay American GIs hanging out in seedy dives in occupied Naples?—but also his tone.

He pulled no punches in depicting the fraught relations and power differentials between occupiers and occupied, not to mention the resentment of the ordinary soldiers toward their superiors. Still, he captured the resilience of the Neapolitans with evocative depictions of street life, and I especially liked his ear for everyday speech—across a range of social classes among both the Americans and the Italians.

The only reason I don’t list Love in the Ruins as my favorite novel is because the shadow of this book looms large over every speculative novel I read.

Both books are extraordinarily funny, but Love in the Ruins has become more of a comfy read, while I still find Gravity’s Rainbow complex and challenging. It’s a cross between slapstick and mind f*ck. I would issue a trigger alert for readers who find occasional perverse sex and violence uncomfortable, but I personally believe reading uncomfortable books can make us grow into better readers and better writers.