100 books like One Day

‘The evening is the best part of the day.’ This is the ultimate realisation of Mr. Stevens, the narrator of Kazuo Ishiguro’s most famous novel. It is a delightful first-person narrative, during which Stevens, an ageing butler, looks back on his life of service while embarking on a drive through the West Country.

Ultimately, it is a love story, the most moving of love stories, the unrequited love story. It is also an atmospheric portrait of a bygone age, of a life in service before the war, in the dying moments of the aristocracy’s country estate era.

I loved the fact that we, the readers, are addressed directly as if we are sitting beside Stevens in his vintage Ford as he motors around the country.

This is an excellent book about relationships and attachment theory, which describes our attachment styles in relationships. I loved reading this book because it taught me about my own attachment style and how I am in relationships.

This is a must-read for anyone who wants to learn about themselves in relationships. I enjoyed the concepts in the book and how relatable it was. I recommend this to every human being who would like a relationship. It is a great way to learn about yourself.

Penetrating? Secret Society? Pick Up Artists? Okay you’re going to have to trust me, that despite its nebulous reputation Strauss’ voyage into the underworld of the “pua” community has some merits. Firstly, it’s a fantastically funny, twisted story. Secondly, whilst every “technique” the book advocates to hone your seduction skills is squarely on the side of skeezy, just the idea that you can learn skills for dating is cool. It gripped me 15 years ago, and started me on my quest in the dating industry. 

When I’m coaching people to improve their dating lives, I like to teach them that there’s not one way to be attractive. Creating attraction with someone is like rummaging around in your archetype toolbox and finding what makes you uniquely attractive. Robert Greene takes a literal romp through fictional, and historical seductive characters to get to the essence of what makes them so compelling; along the way cajoling you to learn their tricks. 

Okay, so this novel is technically about a deviant, sociopathic stalker. However, written from the first person perspective, you’ll find yourself oscillating between shock and admiration at Kepnes’ antihero Joe Goldburg, who’s on a Machiavellian quest to make Beck fall in love with him. Whilst, Joe is a sexual perpetrator, Kepnes also gifts him with fantastic wit, borrowable chat-up lines, and the ability to hold a glib mirror to the world of modern dating. 

I bought this book when I was looking for something else: its title hit me between the eyes. The word “bittersweet” encapsulates everything I often feel; I was nodding along in self-recognition.

If I’m honest, I’ve probably internalised a certain amount of shame around my strong emotions. Definitely, I’ve longed to feel less viscerally about the highs and lows of life. Or, at least, to feel them sequentially – instead of jumbled together: wonderful things tinged with the sadness of impermanence; hard things somehow glowing around the edges with the feeling of being really alive.

What to do with all the emotions? That’s been my recurring question. This book answers – gently, but insistently – make art.

Developing alongside Afi Tekple through this book was like spending time with an inspirational cousin.

Despite being in my mid-thirties, I frequently feel like I’m just beginning to shake off external expectations and live my own life. Unlike Afi, my scenarios don’t involve marrying a man I’ve never met for the sake of my family. But constantly striving to “do the right thing” – as defined by others – has been an emotional burden.

I loved this sensitively written, funny, sensual portrayal of a woman locating her own inner compass. It helped me believe that speaking up for the contours of my existence – and even disappointing a few people along the way – is healthy. Inevitably, some things are lost as a result. But there’s also much to be gained.

This memoir is like a kaleidoscope: each time I re-read it from a new vantage point in my life, I see different colours.

Ariel Levy writes with brutal bravery about a series of personal losses. She brings a candid and unconventional perspective to marriage and motherhood, career and aging, and ultimately our inability to truly control our circumstances.

I think the heart of what this book tells me is: surrender is not synonymous with giving up.  It’s deeper and more hopeful than that. Surrender is learning that power and resilience come from gratitude and acceptance, even in the face of hardships.

This is a slow-burn of a novel about two couples. Each character struggles to maintain their marriage under the pressure of children and modern life. Each tries to hold on to their own identity while existing inside a family. The novel looks at mental health, infidelity, cooking, and Black culture; it has a soundtrack, with songs that mean something to the characters and capture the essence of the time. The story is resonant with images of modern London. It asks a question about the centrality of the city and the anxiety that comes from leaving it.

This is another of my go-to books in time of trouble.

Writing in 1871-72, Eliot goes back to the Midlands of her youth at the time of the Reform Act, 1832. So far, so dry as dust, I you say. But Eliot writes so well, creates such wonderful characters and deals with problems that still vex us today, not least the speed of change when you’d rather things stayed the same. But no one could not love the idealistic Dorothea, the frustrated Dr. Lydgate and the poet Will Ladislaw who becomes a great social reformer.

It’s one of the longest novels in the English language, but I’m always so distressed when I have finished it and have to say goodbye to the characters I’ve come to know so intimately.