100 books like The Guns of Navarone

The best way to describe this book and the entire Heroes of Olympus series is fun. The world in which it takes place is fascinating, with the Greek and Roman gods. I love the characters, and this book in particular because we get to see the perspectives of two extra characters on top of the original seven ‘chosen’ heroes. Riordan builds each character into a full person, and while I don’t usually read much YA, I absolutely love this series. The female characters are particularly amazing – totally different from each other, and a real combination of strong and vulnerable. The dialogue and plot are funny and it doesn’t take itself too seriously, despite the high stakes.

On top of that, I love what Riordan does with the setting. The book travels from Greece to New York and I recognize many of the different places where it takes place… show more.

This book takes place from 1916-1921 in Bombay and Calcutta, following the protagonist in an alternating timeline. The story that is set in the past is my favorite part of the book, when you get to see how the protagonist, a young Parsi woman, became who she is. I loved watching her first fall in love, then grapple with gender roles and expectations until the past timeline eventually catches up with the present-day mystery. The setting itself is fascinating and unusual, and the protagonist’s journey is particularly compelling.

This book combines a terrorism thriller with a mystery, as Brett, the protagonist, learns of his brother’s death. As he learns more about the murder/suicide, it connects to Sirocco, a terrorist organization planning a bio-terror plot in the US. The pacing and interweaving of the terrorist plot with Brett’s investigation are really well done, keeping you interested in both parts of the plot and guessing up till the end. I especially loved the twist the author put in—I’m usually pretty good at seeing those, but in this case, it really caught me by surprise.

A cracking action thriller. A friend recommended this to me, saying my pulse would rise within the first few pages. He wasn’t wrong. It shot up and barely came down. Jet is an Israeli agent who wants out, but it’s never that easy. Such a good first book that the author wrote about 20 more in the series. Guess who read them all!

Alistair MacLean’s thrillers have been a guilty reading pleasure of mine since high school, when MacLean churned out bestsellers like The Guns of Navarone and Where Eagles Dare every year. MacLean creates tough, grim heroes who do whatever they have to do to get the job done. The writing is clumsy but effective, with heavy-handed humor and world-weary cynicism. The women are barely defined. And yet...

The plot, mood, and setting of each book provide one heck of an adventure. Like the crash-landing of a passenger airliner on the Greenland ice cap in Night Without End. A nearby team of scientists rushes to save the survivors. Among whom are the murderous criminals who caused the plane crash. A thoroughly riveting tale of survival in an Arctic wilderness.

This is, quite simply, the greatest escape story of all time.

I’ve chosen this book because I’ve read it so often, at least five times, mostly when I was a teenager. It is brilliant storytelling, and it may just be the book that most got me hooked on World War 2 history.

It tells the story of a tunnel dug from under a vaulting horse in the middle of an exercise yard in a German POW camp. The original plan was for a mass escape of prisoners through the tunnel, but in the end, only three prisoners made it back to England and freedom. All brilliantly told.

This is a dreamer’s book—notes about life, literature, and the universe written by the author after accepting on the spur of the moment a Greek friend’s invitation to go island-hopping in a little sailing boat.

I like it not just because I knew the author’s late daughter and treasure his affectionate references to her, but also for its erudite musings and reflections. They remind me of how, even from the deck of one of today’s decidedly unromantic ferries, the glinting sea and island silhouettes induce a state of semi-trance or reverie, pushing your thoughts into overdrive.

The author was a heavyweight figure on Greece’s literary scene, but this little book is charming, short, and accessible.

The author’s voice captured me.

Once again, I’d never read anything like it before. He was having a conversation with me. I was now a character in an Amsterdam bar with him, the war had just ended, we were smoking cigarettes and drinking gin.

He would respond to my silent questions, and wax and wane philosophically, metaphysically, morally, ethically, and occasionally comically. 

And the beauty was that it had happened so randomly—a roommate had thrown the book in the trash, declaring it to be “bullshit.” I knew the lad to be an imbecile (an acceptable term at the time), so I fished the book out of the trash, read the first sentence, and loved it.

It was the quantumly entangled counter particle to Candide: one particle from the age of reason, the other particle from the age of existentialism.

Musonius was a celebrated teacher who was thrice banished from Rome. He would often turn would-be students away, explaining to a young Epictetus that “the more one pushes the intelligent person away from the life he was born for, the more he inclines towards it.” His school, he often said, was not some concert hall, where people come to be entertained, but a hospital, where they come, in trepidation, to be treated. Thus, he measured the success of his lectures not by the applause that they received, but by the shock and awe to which they gave rise. The twenty-one lectures preserved in Stobaeus were recorded by one of his students. They are full of practical, everyday advice aimed at instilling virtue, and include a lecture on household furnishings and even one on hair.

Logue’s modernist reworking of the Iliad – the Trojan war - mother of all Mediterranean contests, is quite unlike anything you’ll ever read. Logue doesn’t translate, he remakes. It’s as cinematic as a film script, cast in a poetic language as brilliant as anything in modern times, full of jump cuts, staccato effects, and startling contemporary references. The violence of the fighting has a slamming immediacy (‘Dust like red mist/Pain like chalk on slate’), the Mediterranean – ‘the sea that is always counting’ - glimmers and sighs, the Gods behave like spoiled children, helicopters go whumping over the dunes.