46 books like Northern Lights

Surely, you’re not surprised to see the dark master himself on my list. Stephen King is one of the most prolific horror authors (or authors of any genre, for that matter) of all time. I have to be honest; I don’t always like his endings, but I love King’s vividly detailed stories. They draw you in and make the unreal feel very real. Misery is one of my favorites because it’s probably one of King’s best psychological thrillers. I also like that it’s a departure from his normal supernatural themes.

Sure, it doesn’t hurt that the protagonist is a novelist, but even if he wasn’t, I’d love this book. There’s nothing scarier than to be totally at the mercy of someone for your survival. And when that person is an unhinged lunatic who destroys your work and forces you to be her personal storyteller, or you won’t get medicine, food,… show more.

I love this book for its Matroyska doll-style structure: The first five sections tell stories in different periods— from the mid-19th century to the 22nd—loosely connected by repeating characters and media, each ending abruptly and without resolution. The sixth section, set in the 24th century, is the spine of the novel, told in its entirety. Then Mitchell revisits the time periods in reverse chronological order, resolving each story, ending where we began in the mid-19th century.

It was a highly satisfying experience that changed my view of how a story could be told. It is widely considered one of the finest novels of the 21st century. It covers ideas I would normally balk at, like reincarnation and the existence of eternal consciousness. Still, the storytelling is so powerful that it all came across as believable to me. I loved the way Mitchell demonstrated how an idea in one time period… show more.

I return to this book time and again because of the captivating connection Elizabeth and Darcy share. It’s not just the tension on the surface, but it’s what goes on emotionally and psychologically with them that has me enchanted.

Austen does a fantastic job of portraying how love will sneak up on you when you’re not even looking for it, how it will push you to face the parts of yourself you’ve been avoiding for too long and to stand boldly in your authentic character while holding compassion for another’s perspective.

Every time I read this book, I feel I know the characters at a more intimate level as new fractals of their personalities and behaviors shine through.

Before her mega-hit Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn penned this diabolical noir set in the deep South. It’s an edgy story, presenting a gallery of disturbed characters—including the deeply troubled protagonist, a journalist who returns to her hometown to report on the murders of two young girls.

Some books I forget a week or two after reading, others just stick with me for a year or more, and some leave bootprints in my mind forever. This is one of the latter.

I love books that explore how ordinary people might react in extraordinary circumstances, and this one takes that to another level.

The main characters, Tengo and Aomame, see that the world has changed—the most obvious clue being that there are now two moons in the sky—and it is fascinating to watch how these two very different people cope with living in a new and mysterious context. Murakami has a knack for making the surreal seem believable, and in this book, he is at the top of his game.

I read this book in high school and it messed. Me. Up. So much so that I remember it in vivid detail to this day and credit it with my desire to write dysfunctional family fiction.

I’d be hard-pressed in real life (thank God) to find a family suffering from issues ranging from incestuous relationships through moral superiority and unforgiving rigidity up to greed and murder… all of which feels like the tip of the iceberg.

Reading the tale of a family who has gone so far off the rails will, if nothing else, make you appreciate the mundane problems your own family has. And isn’t that why we read this genre?

I thought this book (another by the king of quirk, Backman) was hysterical. The relationship between the precocious seven-year-old main character, Elsa, and her nutty grandmother is laugh-out-loud funny yet poignant.

I also liked that the story included a bit of magical realism, so I was never quite sure what would happen next.

By the time I learnt to read, Enid Blyton had already written six or seven children’s books. One of my early reads was likely to have been this one, the original adventure. Eventually, I read them all.

I learnt the characters so well; their looks and personalities, they were embedded in my mind until the next book – and the remaining nineteen! So clear were their identities, my friends and I were able to re-enact the Five’s escapades taking the roles of the siblings and cousin. 

Although some of her writing comes in for criticism these days (from adults), it’s for things that went unnoticed by the average child swept along by the book’s adventures.

In my writing I work hard to create memorable characters and I’m always delighted when they are mentioned by readers.

I’ve selected this title as it’s one of the first Jeeves and Wooster books but, to be honest, you could choose any one; they’re all brilliant.

That goes for pretty much all of Wodehouse’s stories. I realise everyone knows these two characters from the various TV series produced over the years. But they may not have read the books. They should. It’s a great credit to the author that whichever actors portray this pair, and others such as Lord Emsworth of Blandings, the characters are instantly recognisable.

I think PG Wodehouse’s characterisation is superb. I admire his eye for details, not only in appearance but in mannerisms and speech. Wooster – the young gentleman – is wealthy, foppish, dapper, scatterbrained and idle. Jeeves – the gentleman’s gentleman – is someone who “from the collar upwards, stands alone.” That phrase alone tells the reader everything they need to know about the… show more.

The frame-tale—also known as a “story within a story”—is one of my favorite fictional devices, and Margaret Atwood’s deft handling of three separate storylines makes this book a truly astonishing read.

Though her characters are fictional, their story is set against a backdrop of major Canadian historical events of the 1930s and 1940s. The exterior tale carries Iris Chase, an unhappily married upper-class woman, from childhood to death, while the real author of the interior story—a novel about a pair of illicit lovers that contains an embedded science fiction tale (the eponymous Blind Assassin)—is one of the story’s biggest mysteries.

This novel is ambitious, engaging, and wholly surprising.