97 books like My Sweet Audrina

This is a Gothic suspense classic, but the suspense is gradual in the most delicious way. The book begins with a 1930s meet-cute in which a young paid companion to a rich and unpleasant woman meets a wealthy, unhappy widower at a resort. The young woman befriends the man while her employer is bedridden with a cold, and the two share some funny and touching moments.

The Gothic part comes when he unexpectedly proposes marriage, and they return to his gargantuan family estate, Manderley, which was formerly run by his late wife, Rebecca. Now, the spookiness permeates the story, from the shadowy corners of the mansion to the constant watchfulness of the very creepy housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers. Rebecca has been in print for almost a hundred years, and that alone is evidence of its awesomeness.

In this modern feminist era, Maxim DeWinter might seem horribly patriarchal, but it’s utterly believable… show more.

I liked the subtlety of the storytelling here and the way the whole tragic plot develops. Events develop as much out of boredom and lack of engagement rather than from evil intent.

The false messiah here doesn’t offer a great path and is not particularly charismatic. He just offers something slightly more interesting than all the others around. The outcome depends on accident more than any evil intention. Emma Cline finds an engaging way to explore a piece of history without exploitation.

Thanks to my religious conservative upbringing, I grew up naive and innocent. I learned a lot about life really quick when I entered college. I partied and made mistakes and definitely have my fair share of shame and regret.

However, reading this book even as an adult was still eye-opening. Life of the Party follows Mia, a fashion student living in Milan who lives the most chaotic life imaginable. She parties hard. She drinks endlessly. She wears outfits I'd never dare try on.

Mia couldn't be anything like rigid careful me, but I still resonated with her choices. I empathized with her trauma. I reveled in every small victory she has. Mia helped me realize just how much of the female experience is universal.

I picked up this book on a whim and was lured by the premise, which essentially lays out the story of a woman who marries a successful man at the turn of the century.

It's your standard "wealthy family has everything but they're all miserable" book but with Edwardian vibes. The narrative follows every member of the family, the saga of which I found so riveting. There was a bit of romance and angst and loneliness, specifically around the book's protagonist, Ursula.

This book resonated with me in a way that similar books haven't, which goes to show just what period drama can do, showing you that humans still struggle with the same stuff, no matter the time or place, but with a dash of romantic gothic aesthetic to make it fun.

I love stories set in modern times, with the fae living—secretly—in the local woods. It reminds me of the uncanny in real life, and the possibility of adventure.

The pleasure of this rendition of the fae-next-door is that the human realm is brought fully to life and slowly entwines with the fantastical. Also: It gradually dawned on me that the human thread of the story is a fairy tale in its own right. That really twisted my expectations.

My first experience reading a book with dual storylines, this novel held me spellbound cover to cover. McMahon has since become an auto-buy author for me, thanks to this fantastical story that puts a magnifying glass on the life of two sisters, a childhood friend, and an unexplained disappearance. The story moves between past and present and revolves around the Tower Motel in Vermont, now a ruined shell that refuses to yield its secrets. Secrets the girls discovered while playing games there as children. 

An unexpected splash of the paranormal and the use of letters from one sister to Mr. Hitchcock (yes, that Hitchcock) add the perfect touch to this disturbing gem.

I’m a sucker for endpapers so, with inside covers that appear browned with age, this book instantly grabbed me. I was even more drawn in by the edges of all pages looking aged, with the book’s title repeatedly running along the bottom of each one like a handwritten footer. Once I was reading, the flavour of classics like those by the Bronte sisters and Jane Austin meant I couldn’t put it down.

Set in the later part of the 20th century, Kate’s story explores self-worth and finding purpose. First-person narrative uses language cleverly. It is easy to read, the voice unpretentious. I felt like I knew Kate. We have so much in common, including the ability to write in the dark and a penchant for taking laneways rather than main roads.

To me, this slim novel is perfect, and perfectly constructed.

The narrator spends it obsessing over a single question–why did my sister marry an older, wealthy, boring man?–and doesn’t figure out the answer till the end. And in retrospect, it’s obvious. Meanwhile she also mulls over the options for young women circa the early 1960s in an England that’s transforming dramatically: Do I marry? Stay single? Let my life drift?

My parents bought the Penguin paperback when we lived in London in the late 1960s for a year, when the city was really swinging. I began reading it at 10 and was transfixed by the glimpse it offered into adulthood, and I have re-read the same paperback many times since.

In this lyrical novel, winner of the 2019 Man Booker International Prize (the first novel in Arabic to do so), the Omani writer Altharthi captures the rich complexity of a country caught between the past and the future.

Her characters embody various aspects of Oman’s history—its slave trade, its maritime prowess, its close-knit village life, its rapid modern development—while at the same time debunking Western stereotypes about Arab women, society, and culture.

I visited Oman in early 2023 and everywhere I went, I saw Alharthi’s novel brought to life. Time and memory, religion and magic, poetry and proverbs—all swirl hypnotically together in this book, brilliantly translated by Marilyn Booth. 

This novel is a murder mystery, of sorts, that also has a lot to say about socio-economic divides in contemporary Korea. This was particularly interesting to me because when I lived there in the 1970s, everyone was poor. No one owned a motorbike, much less a car, and they were all barely scraping by. Now, though, great wealth and privilege have emerged alongside persistent poverty, and that class divide looks too familiar to Americans. The rich are privileged and have access to things the poor do not, including justice.