100 books like The Grapes of Wrath

This novel left me feeling both teary-eyed and ennobled. Superficially, it is about two French sisters living through the Nazi occupation of France during World War II. At its root, however, Hannah deconstructs the essence of survival.

I loved how her characters frame the book’s cosmic questions: What would you do to survive? What compromises would you make? Is it better to fight back aggressively or resist passively? The sisters are of different temperaments and personalities. Each answers these questions differently, painfully. I found myself haunted by these themes long after I put The Nightingale back on the shelf. You will, too.

The Winds of War is a powerful and intimate story about WWII.

It follows one fictional family through the buildup to the most devastating war in human history. The cultural and political details are most impressive. The writing itself is captivating. I have used it as a model for my own book.

Wouk’s work demonstrates the impact of war on families and establishes the importance of advocating for peaceful resolutions to global disputes.

This is a beloved book for many, but I love it so much because both of the characters are so unlikeable—yet you fall in love with them. I also love the conflict and the dueling, strong personalities of Scarlet and Rhett.

The plot is full of emotion and passion, and yet there are no sex scenes, which is another reason why I like it so much.

This book is written basically as a western road movie. The two main protagonists, former Texas Rangers, decide, on little more than a whim, to assemble a cattle herd and drive it north from the Rio Grande to Montana, with the author providing some wonderful descriptions of the topography and hardships they encounter. 

What makes it a classic for me is how the central characters explore their own mettle from the dichotomy of Woodrow, who is moralistic but happily rustles Mexican cattle and won’t acknowledge his son because the young man’s mother was a prostitute.

Gus has a more enlightened outlook towards another prostitute, and his humor allows the young girl to embark on a passage to discover her place in the West. The story is as stunning as the landscapes.

People were shocked to read about the Osage murders, but those who’ve read Angie Debo just had to sigh and shake their heads since it’s nothing new. Her 1936 work opened my eyes to the systematic devastation of the tribes, bite by bite. Forced off their homelands with removal, they were promised to hold land in Oklahoma “as long as the waters run,” but it wasn’t more than a few decades before allotment narrowed tribal holdings and opened up more land to be taken. With Native peoples not even legal citizens, anyone with money had to have a guardian, a breeding ground for amoral administrators to siphon off as much as they wanted.

If you want a FIRE lit under your ass, read this book!

I love this book so much and have reread this one a couple of times because of the sheer injection of motivation I get straight into my veins when I read it. What I love about this first memoir from David is his brutal honesty about his childhood and his subsequent journey to become “the baddest motherfucker on the planet.”

This guy is the quintessential story of polishing a terd long enough, you will get a diamond. Whenever I am feeling sorry for myself, my mind goes back to this book. I think, “If David can do it, I can too. This is nothing compared to the odds he faced, and look at him now!” 

This book is a profound meditation on human resilience that never fails to move me. I'm constantly in awe of Hemingway's ability to weave so much meaning into such a deceptively simple tale. The way Santiago's unwavering determination shines through, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, resonates deeply with me.

I find myself returning to this book time and time again, drawing inspiration from the old man's quiet strength and dignity. The vivid portrayal of man's relationship with nature—both its beauty and its harsh realities—leaves me breathless. What I love most is how Hemingway captures the essence of the human spirit in Santiago's struggle, reminding me that true victory lies not in the outcome but in the perseverance of the journey.

Despite draft-stage admonitions from his great friend, the Jesuit priest Ronald Knox, the amount of sex Waugh layers into Brideshead Revisited is surprising for 1945: functionally heterosexual couplings, more given over to class imperatives of property, inheritance and trophy wives, and the tentatively homosexual (depending on interpretation), as located in the awakenings of young adulthood, as sluiced by wine, aesthetic beauty, cigars and Venice in Summer.

But it’s Venice and its architecture that’s the actual location of the full sensual awakening, triggering the protagonist’s eventual journey to Catholicism as he passes time among the Venetian stone of churches… and a fountain: “This was my conversion to the baroque...I felt a whole new system of nerves alive within me, as though the water that spurted and bubbled among its stones was indeed a life-giving spring.” Eroticized Ruskinalia, finally stepping beyond the Anglo-Catholicism of the Oxford Movement.

What is there not to love about this novel? Let me count the reasons, if I can, that I did love it:

It's unvarnished, simple, elegant prose. The searing vulnerability of not only the central protagonist but many surrounding characters as well. The theme of family failure but also family triumph. Its resonating depiction of life circumstances and survival collides head-on with legal norms and personal choice.

If you read this book about the early cross-Atlantic explorers and substitute today’s technology entrepreneurs, the metaphors fit cleanly.

They sold exuberant, sometimes-fulfilled, and often-failed stories to profit-seeking backers, took inordinate risks, and results were often winner-take-all.

As Mark Twain, another famous explorer, once said, “History never repeats itself, but it does often rhyme.”