100 books like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre follows the format of a romance novel: a governess falls in love with her employer, they overcome impediments, and they live happily ever after. Add a madwoman in the attic, Thornfield Hall in flames, and Mr. Rochester’s voice calling to Jane across the winds, and you have an unforgettable romance novel.

I admire Jane immensely. Her journey from being a suffering student at Lowood School to an independent woman is as relevant as ever. Through every experience, she asserts her autonomy but never wavers in her moral compass.

In Brontë’s world, love involves every fiber of one’s being, not just emotions or desire. Mr. Rochester is a complex, conflicted man who proves himself worthy of Jane’s love. For me, they have set the standard of the romantic heroine and hero. 

I’ve pressed copies of Pat Barker’s trilogy into the hands of more friends than I can count!

Set during the First World War, the books didn’t transport me to the battlefields of France as I’d expected, but onto a hospital ward for shell shock victims and into the fictionalized life of an amazing therapist who dedicated himself to their humane treatment.

I’d done a lot of research on the subject for a documentary film and knew about the extreme, sometimes horrific treatment these men received. So I was blown away to learn that there was at least one doctor who treated them compassionately, encouraging them to heal their psychic wounds by speaking about what they’d witnessed.

Everything about these novels – the crushing psychological impact of war on the minds of men and the healing power of remembering – inspired me to explore similar themes in my own fiction.

Well, perhaps her name isn’t unfamiliar anymore, and it wasn’t historical fiction when it was written. But this luscious, complex, and moving classic is about more than the titular Anna and her ill-fated romance. For me, the best parts were about Levin and his longing for a simpler life.

Maybe I’m projecting, but when compared with Moscow society's social climbing and deep disillusionment, it’s hard not to want to turn away and opt for an admittedly idealized simple life working the soil. Yes, I know it’s long, but it’s well worth reading—or rereading!

In this Christmas story, Ebenezer Scrooge, a stingy man, finds redemption in a magical way. Visited by the spirits of Christmas past, present, and future, he sees that if he continues in the same selfish way, his life will have no meaning to anyone. I re-read this story often.

I am constantly amazed by how believable the magical elements of the story feel. Do spirits really visit Mr. Scrooge? Or is it his subconscious mind sending himself warning dreams? Either way, I am swept away with pure joy at the end every time. It’s as if the author has reached deep into my soul and ripped away my inner Scrooge. And that’s the real magic.

This novel gets a bad rap, but I found it quite funny. If you have personally struggled with a mental health disorder, then I think it is easy and rewarding to find the humor in it. Perhaps my favorite moment is when Esther Greenwood is wandering around her house with a string following behind her like a cat’s tail.

It is the contrast of absolute darkness and humorous light that makes this one so hopeful to me. Yet, it never dismisses the stark reality of Esther’s condition. Both are present. 

This book by Markus Zusak is frequently named one of the best WW2 books. I like it because it’s a tribute to the resilience of the human spirit and the importance of hope in dark times. It’s a haunting and beautifully written novel set in Nazi Germany.

Narrated by Death, the story follows Liesel, a young girl sent to live with a foster family. As she navigates a tumultuous world filled with fear and cruelty, Liesel finds comfort in books and words. I loved the premise of stealing forbidden books and sharing their stories with others. Through Liesel’s experiences, I explored the themes of love, loss, and the power of storytelling in the face of adversity.

I found this book in college, and at the time, I thought it was the most unique book I had ever read.

Thompson’s “Gonzo Journalism” was fresh, funny, and thought-provoking, with a subtext of modern poetry, political activism, and a sense of humor I have never seen replicated.

I fell in love with Katniss from the very beginning. I was the oldest daughter in a single-parent family and had to take over and care for my younger sisters a lot of times because my father was dysfunctional. So I get it. The whole concept is horrifying to me—children forced to kill each other—but following along as Katniss manages to defeat the fate waiting for her inspired me.

I related to how she did most of it on her own, seeing as she had been let down by her mother, her country, and, later, those she thought were friends. Trust is so important and valuable for young people to have, and so easy to destroy.

Welcome to a world where the inhabitants are androgynous, able to manifest both male and female genitalia. A world where you can be both a mother and a father of your children, where gender roles and expectations make no sense. I was absolutely astounded by this book when I read it many years ago. In a beautifully told sci-fi tale of political intrigue and adventure, I found myself constantly confronted by my limitations in terms of gender equity. 

For what LeGuin called her “social science fiction” and “thought experiments,” LeGuin created worlds—canvases really—where human foibles, conflicts, values, and ideas could be played out to their logical conclusion. This is one of her best.

LeGuin writes, “All science fiction is a metaphor,” and that is certainly the case with her books. Brilliant metaphors that shine light not so much on other worlds but on our own. I taught TLHOD in high… show more.

Published way back in 1554, this revolutionary novel is irreverent, amusing, and gloriously critical of the hypocrisy of 16th century Spanish society and, by extension, our own times. The main character is a destitute scoundrel named Lazarillo who seeks to better his fortunes while in the service of a brutal priest and host of other unseemly characters. By creating an anti-hero who is a witty misfit and outcast, and by portraying Spanish society as morally bankrupt, the author earned the wrath of the Spanish monarchy – which banned the novel – and the Catholic Church, which placed it on its Index of forbidden literature. My novel is also on the Church’s list of forbidden books, so I feel a special kinship with the unnamed author of this groundbreaking work.