100 books like Mythago Wood

In my head, there’s a high I’m chasing, and it’s the high I got when I finally finished David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas, the high of one synapse in my head connecting with one another in a bright feverish spark as I volley from one page to the next, one character to the next, one era to the next.

If I had to summarise what the book even is, I’d say it’s reincarnation and samsara in the hands of Mitchell’s trademark ventriloquism, arranged into this wonderfully nested set of Russian doll narratives. It sounds very smart and full of grand ideas about the nature of human suffering, and it is! But it is also deeply romantic and about the peculiar destiny that can tie one human soul to another all throughout eternity.

There’s a lot of thoughtless talk by techno-optimistic philosophers about futures in which we all get to become superintelligent and live for thousands of years if we can apply the right tech to ourselves.

Sykes describes fascinating research on the Neanderthals, beings who were almost, but not quite, us. Reading her book, I wondered what it might have been like to grow up as the child of a union between a Homo sapiens and a Neanderthal. I found this especially useful when we consider future relationships between people determined to remain human and others who want tech to make them posthuman ASAP.

There’s so much information to gleen from Sykes to help us guess at how posthumans might treat beings whom they view as different and possibly inferior.

At first glance, it appears to be a book about rabbits but it’s much more about humanity.

Watership Down was my childhood favorite story. Its themes of home, overcoming incredible obstacles, and finding a few good friends along the way are lessons I still carry with me. When I first read it as a young boy, I was lost in the gaps of the foster care system.

This book gave me a vision – and a plan – for how to overcome it. Those lessons apply to all of us and are desperately needed in a world that too often bends towards cynicism and chaos.

The book is a perfect work of art and undeniable truth.

It is the most important German novel about the First World War. It is the book for the Oscar-winning Netflix movie. With this novel, Erich Maria Remarque established his worldwide fame and created a timeless image of the horrors of modern war.

The story of nineteen-year-old Paul Bäumer, who goes from his school desk to the front lines as an unsuspecting war volunteer, is now common knowledge.

Re-reading it, however, is still shocking: how Bäumer, instead of the hoped-for excitement of war and a brief adventure, experiences the full brutality of slaughter and the senseless deaths of his comrades is both touching and outrageous.

The Neverending Story was always one of my favorites growing up. The idea that a kid could get pulled into this amazing world full of adventure really spoke to me as a kid (I’m sure you’re starting to see the theme here). I loved that I could follow along and it felt like I was also going on these grand adventures.

A unicorn believes she’s the last of her kind and undertakes a quest to find where the others have gone. This might be my favorite book!

It plays with the fantasy genre in a way that few books can. It seamlessly mixes the whimsical with the mundane and it gives us memorable characters who are unique twists on old tropes.

What I love most about this book is seeing life through the eyes of the unicorn protagonist. She’s a timeless creature—unaging, unchanging—who finds navigating a mortal world to be puzzling, inconvenient, and, at times, terrifying.

Can you imagine being immortal and suddenly being forced to confront your own impossible mortality? Read this book and you will.

I admire the storyline and the defining incident of this novel, which is why I’ve included it here, even though it’s an overly long and baggy book...

The novel tells the tale of a teenager whose world is torn apart when he and his mother visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where a terrorist bomb goes off, killing his mother and many others. When a dying old man persuades our young hero to take off with a priceless seventeenth-century painting, The Goldfinch, he obliges and off we go...

For a more traditional take on fantasy, Sofia Samatar’s A Stranger in Olondria is lovely and immersive, a fascinating new world worthy of Ursula Le Guin and Gene Wolfe.

Reportedly, she created Olondria from a combination of regions in Turkey and North Africa, and it feels absolutely fresh and instantly powerful. A teenage merchant becomes haunted by the ghost of a young girl and must find a way to put her to rest.

But the story is really about the power of books and stories and language itself. It’s a love letter to adventure and open seas, harbors, and alleys, and snowy mountains in the distance.

Ms. Samatar holds several advanced degrees in language and literature, including Arabic and various African dialects, and you can feel the joy of her verbal artistry dancing on the page.

Stranger is not to be missed.

Keneally’s novel, Confederates, stands out among other good Civil War novels. His Twain-like vernacular writing style brings the reader into his characters’ minds remarkably well.

Having lived for 6 years in the South, I find the landscapes familiar and the inflections and attitudes very relatable. Without necessarily identifying with Johnny Reb morally, I slog through icy mud with the threadbare Rebels, survive another day and a half without food, see comrades perish from various causes, and find desolation everywhere. It’s all painfully vivid. I empathize with these Boys in Grey; they are the grunts next to whom we readers march, fight, and starve. While I remain critical - horrified - at the South’s indefensible motives, I’m grateful for my intimate acquaintance with those who fought and died for their homes.

Crowley is the author of the timeless classic Little, Big, of course (which is also essential reading), but his novel, The Solitudes, began a tetralogy that explores history, alternate history, and the grand Hermetic framework which contains it all.

Centering around a historian working to connect an alternate imagined world, Ægypt, with the real one today, Crowley’s readers take a deep dive into the Renaissance world of Giordano Bruno, Doctor Dee, Shakespeare, and others, while simultaneously exploring the arcane world of the present.

It feels strangely akin to something Umberto Eco might come up with if he ever wanted to write fantasy.

As with any Crowley novel, the prose is absolutely gorgeous—a masterclass of beautiful, thoughtful writing. This series has been unjustly overlooked. Give it a try.