100 books like The Complete Novels of Jane Austen

This book tells us more about what Jane Austen looked like in real life than any drawing does. I love how Hilary Davidson delves into every possible piece of evidence for what she wore and provides illustrations from contemporary drawings and actual bits of clothing that survive.

Some of them actually belonged to Austen–like her turquoise ring and topaz cross, her lace shawl, and her brown silk pelisse. How amazing is it to see these items that Austen herself wore and to see the evidence that she was over 5 foot 6 inches tall! 

There are more comprehensive biographies of Jane Austen, but I love this one, which charts the relationship between Jane and her favorite brother, Henry. He was a banker for a while but also a soldier and became an Anglican minister.

E.J. Clery has done tons of research but she also writes beautifully and brings it all together into a moving and fascinating story that shows a new side of Jane Austen. I discovered that Jane didn’t just stay home writing and embroidering but often went to London and stayed with her brother and his wife (their cousin Eliza). They went to the theatre together, they had parties, and she met French aristocrats who’d escaped from the Revolution. 

Kathryn Sutherland is a professor at Oxford, but that doesn’t mean her writing is dry and dusty. I find her one of the best guides for why Jane Austen is such an enduring success. She’s written a few books about Austen.

I chose this one because it explains where Austen fits in cultural history: what books she read and how she has influenced writers, dramatists, filmmakers, and everyone else ever since. It also tells the story of how her novels came into being, physically–as manuscripts and as printed books.

John Wiltshire brings a perspective to Jane Austen’s novels that is old and new. I am in awe of how he can take a passage from one of her novels and dive deeply into it, finding worlds of meaning in the familiar text. He writes beautifully and eloquently about these hidden depths.

One of the unusual things about Wiltshire as a literary scholar is that he is also an expert on health and psychology. But he doesn’t psycho-analyze Austen or try to diagnose her at a distance: he uses words and phrases and even punctuation in the novels to look beneath the surface of the narrative at the moods and relationships they reveal.

I felt every single emotion reading this book and felt as if I’d lived all the decades with Jen and Nick, who met as teenagers and soon became friends.

I love Sarra’s writing style, and I was fully invested in Jen and Nick from the very beginning, and found their complicated, messy relationship, which follows the most winding path, completely believable.

There was so much in this book that was unexpected, and by the end, I was a sobbing puddle of feelings. I know Jen and Nick will always stay with me, and I’m already looking forward to reading it again. 

Some authors have an innate faculty for bringing the dim and distant past into such razor-sharp clarity that it’s hard not to believe that they were once present at the time. That’s how it is with Mary Renault (real name Eileen Mary Challans): any number of her books could have made this list.

What I particularly love about this duology (the sequel The Bull From the Sea isn’t quite as strong) is that Renault retold the ancient tale of Theseus and the Minotaur as historical fiction. Though she followed the main beats of the well-known story, she boldly stripped it of gods, monsters, and magic, and the narrative doesn’t suffer at all from it. If anything, it makes it even more compelling because it feels like she has stumbled upon a possible origin to the myth.

I wish we had more dream novels out there about animal brides and bridegrooms! Instinctual and unbound by law, with access to wild places we could never reach, animals are such a perfect way to express the id-consciousness, the dream versions of ourselves. Based on a Japanese folktale, here’s a sweet, whimsical story of a fox who turns herself human to love a human man. Which form is real, and which is the dream, and how will she free herself to live both realities as a fully formed woman of her own?

I’ve spoken to people who really couldn’t get into this book, and I consider them somewhat deranged. It’s a rollicking good read, and maybe it helped that I enjoyed the author reading the story, which added to my enjoyment. I’ll go out on a limb and suggest very few authors make great audiobook performers. Mortimer absolutely does, getting the voice of the squirrel spot on.

There’s a strange and convoluted plot set in the not-terribly-underworld of London. A brilliant neighbor part for Kathy Burke should Mortimer ever be fielding Netflix offers. It’s a book you’ll read in days, not weeks. Fast-paced and has me on edge for part two–out in August.

Another friendly rodent tale with a clever premise! I read this long before there was ever a movie about Stuart. Once again, the author’s imagination amazed me. I was enchanted with all the clever things Stuart could do – his car, his canoe, his friendship with Margalo the bird, and the humans that accepted him as part of their family.

I remember bringing the library book to my grandmother’s house when I spent the weekend. I don’t think the book was out of my grasp except when I was sleeping. And even then, I was dreaming of being a writer and “living” in a world like Stuart’s. 

I don’t know about you, but when I learned history in elementary school, we skipped straight from Ancient Greece and Rome to the Norman Conquest with the briefest of nods at Byzantium to acknowledge there was something in between. It was all very simple and straightforward—and completely left out the crumbling kingdoms left behind in the wake of the fall of Alexander the Great’s Empire.

I can still remember opening Gillian Bradshaw’s Horses of Heaven for the first time and thinking, “What’s Ferghana? Or Bactra?”  Gillian Bradshaw wrote a number of books set in the wake of Alexander’s empire, but this one is the one that really stuck with me, told through the eyes of a girl picked to go as attendant to a Greek aristocrat from Bactra being married to King Mauakes of Ferghana (now Afghanistan).