23 books like Lyre of Orpheus

Steppenwolf is part funhouse reverie and part rumination on class division and loneliness, and it’s steeped in Hesse’s fascination with the sublime.

It’s not necessarily a fun read—at times, it’s downright frustrating—but it has the cajones to be frustrating, and that’s fine by me. Hesse employs a version of Jungian analysis in this book, and I enjoy the multiple "selves" that the protagonist Harry Haller (a substitute for Herman Hesse himself?) inhabits.

Lady Oracle was one of the novels I read in the several years after first having the vague notion that I might like to write a novel akin to Steppenwolf but that would be set in the approximate present day and have a female protagonist. As Lady Oracle’s main character is a writer who, after periodically reinventing herself, now fakes her own death, flees her intellectual, non-dancing husband, and holes up in an Italian village, I saw possible avenues for my own husband-leaving Kari. Would Kari flee to another country? Would she have secret lovers or a history of being fat? Would she, too, fake her own death? Kari ultimately didn’t follow many of Joan Foster’s paths, but she might have.

Pastoral is one of my favorite recent discoveries. It’s one of a quincunx of novels linked by exploration of five classic literary genres—in this case the currently unfashionable pastoral. Newly ordained priest Christopher Pennant isn’t greatly pleased that his first parish assignment is to a rural town where sheep are numerous. He assumes he’ll be a suitable shepherd to the humans, people he expects to be simple and straightforward. Of course, they aren’t. They’re not only as complex as people anywhere else, but very unexpected. Father Pennant not only finds he has a self-appointed cello-playing chef as rectory caretaker, but he witnesses three possible miracles. Or are they trickery? I love the depth and gentle humor in the priest’s attempts to understand his parishioners and himself. And nature, too.

Sorcerers is the tale of teenaged Eliot, who’s growing up in Philadelphia in the 1950s and strives to learn magic. Let’s not confuse this with the magic found in Harry Potter, the Narnia books, or in any of today’s fantasy worlds; Eliot studies basic stage-magic tricks and gains entrance to the Sorcerers, a club of aspiring teen magicians. Some Sorcerers are adept and elegant; others graceless gawks. As the novel develops, there's mystery, and to everyone's surprise, some of what might be termed "real magic" and strange power. This is a bildungsroman about human possibility, which is what prompts me to recommend it here. It's subtle and unusual, with a deep understanding of humanity and spiritual development. I've not encountered many novels that attempt what this one does. 

I know Valerie through my voluntary work with survivors and am aware of her work at the Clinic for Dissociative Studies.

She has years of experience as a psychoanalyst and psychotherapist working with trauma, disability, dissociation, and torture so Valerie knows what she is talking about. In this book she uses her knowledge and expertise to cleverly weave a background of fact that people would find too hard to believe into a brilliant work of fiction.

Her book left me wondering, ‘Does that sort of thing really happen’? It does. Children continue to be at risk and adult survivors continue to live with the trauma of the abuse they experienced.

This book re-tells the myth of Orpheus from the perspective of his wife, Eurydice, who struggles to decide whether she wants her husband to rescue her and bring her back to the world of the living or if she'd actually prefer to stay in the Underworld with her dead loved ones.

Since I lost my family, I've spent a lot of time pondering on what happens after you die. I still don't know what I believe, but this play fired my imagination in a way nothing else has: what if being in the land of the dead is okay and actually better than being alive? Would we be less scared of death if being dead turned out to be actually pretty great?

In the words of the writer herself, "this is an adult fairy tale about rivers, time, and the mystery of love." I have never read anything like this little gem of a book that immerses you in the natural world to such an extent, I felt like I became half-aquatic during the reading of it. It made me want to run away and live in the Tasmanian wilderness by a river, but then again, I’m not half woman, half fish, like the protagonist of the book. A strange and wonderful read.

This is the most comprehensive book on Native American afterlife beliefs ever written.

What makes it especially interesting is that the author focuses on myths and legends of afterlife journeys – what he called “Orpheus myths.” He looks at them from many perspectives – historical and cultural – but most importantly experiential.

Writing almost 20 years before the popularization of near-death experiences in the Western world, Hultkrantz identified NDEs as a different type of experience from dreams or shamanic visions – and found that indigenous people did, too.

He also suggested that such experiences contributed to afterlife beliefs – that is, that they weren’t simply culturally created “stories” or hallucinations. Readable and entertaining as well as scholarly, it’s wonderful that this book is back in print after languishing in obscurity for decades!

Everything F. Scott Fitzgerald ever touched with his pen glimmered and was gold. Just think of Tender Is the Night—the title comes from Keats, and Keats is the living lyre, and it's a fine, long book that haunts you. But the place where I first entered his world is the fat blue collected stories that came out in 1989, edited by my late friend Dr. Matthew J. Bruccoli.

This was the book that first made me see that gorgeous writing was everything, that it was the mode and method and the way. Every one of the stories in this gigantic book has something in it that is sensitive and evocative and lives beyond its page and time.

Anyone lucky enough to experience the blockbuster Broadway musical Hamilton, performed live and in person, knows how heart-stopping it is, from its revolutionary race-blind casting and unforgettable music and staging to the ingenious, fast-paced wordsmithing that explodes in its famous rap battles and songs. A book might seem a poor shadow of that sensational experience, but this volume enriches the lyrics and libretto with illuminating (and often humorous) commentary describing the show’s conceptualization and production.

The resulting text is as dazzling as the stage show—even as it reminds us that the masterpiece began as the work of a supremely gifted writer. That writer, moreover, isn’t just brilliant composer Miranda or even Ron Chernow, author of the acclaimed 2004 biography about Alexander Hamilton that inspired Lin-Manuel Miranda, but the Founding Father himself.

Alexander Hamilton was an orphaned scholarship student whose extraordinary mind brought him from a tiny Caribbean island to colonial… show more.