100 books like The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket

I love this one for its extremes of thought rather than any extremes of violence, though it implies the slaughter of an entire civilization. It’s the mountains and the mountains beyond mountains, each range more sublime than the last, more likely to dash your comprehension against their rocks, that is the genius here, the idea that no matter how horrific something seems, what’s really horrific is always right behind it, outside your capacity for seeing it completely.

Lovecraft is the master of describing the indescribable, and I think this novella is where he does it best. (Un)Naturally, the book’s greatest triumph is the shoggoths, creatures that defy both form and understanding, and madness comes to life. Brilliant!

This book originally consisted of six short collections of novellas and stories, but they’ve since been gathered into a two-volume set, so I’m hoping I can count them as one. They go together, and I think they’re nearly all excellent.

When I was a kid, these stories helped build a bridge for me, from the likes of Stephen King (whom I still adore) to new imaginative worlds of horror that include all kinds of transgressive imagery.

I love how Barker combines the fantastic with the visceral, blurs lines between the monstrous and the human, and makes desire dark, dirty, and wonderful. I also love these stories for all they taught me and helping usher in modern extreme/hardcore horror.

From the mind of a nineteen-year-old member of the English Parliament, this book inaugurated the splatter side of the horror tradition, and it freaked late 18th-century critics out. I love it for all its gruesome irreverence, for how far it’s willing to go for shocks, for its wild, gender-bending sexuality, and so much more.

Although I find parts of it genuinely disgusting, I think it’s more amusing than scary… that said, its inset storytelling and interwoven major plotlines are a hoot to follow. The corruption of the title character is so, so easy and goes so, so far.

The object of his primary lust is so ridiculously pure… orchestrated to maximize the impact of the final confrontations, of course, and they are extreme.

I’ve been blown away by the high quality in a lot of 21st-century splatterpunk/hardcore/extreme horror, but nobody’s extremes have impressed me quite like Wrath James White’s.

I love the insane magic he works with a deceptively simple premise: a young man can resurrect people who forget the circumstances of the deaths and return, but he’s a bad young man. The result is a blend of classic Gothic tropes related to a woman terrorized by a powerful man combined with just about every kind of physical violation imaginable.

I respect White’s gross-outs, but more than that, I respect the bleakness, the deep, deep horror of the premise taken so far in such a bad way.

This is THE book for neurotic hypersexuals. It set the genre. I think it’s wild, brilliant, horny, thoughtful, introspective, delusional, and absurd at the same time. I mean, for the love of God, there’s no plot! It’s the protagonist (Alex Portnoy) rambling to a psychologist about his clear Oedipal Complex. The man is torn, trying to be a good Jewish boy who betters the world, but he has some nasty sexual desires (and messed-up feelings about his sexual partners) that are holding him back. 

This book is one of my obsessions. (It’s fitting, given the obsessive nature of the book.) Ironically, I felt really seen and sane while reading it. No, I’m not as neurotic and horny as Alex, but boy, do I struggle with some of the same obsessive thought patterns as that man!

Most people declare Madame Bovary to be their favorite Flaubert novel. I don’t dispute its greatness, but I find this book, published in 1869, twelve years after Madame Bovary, to be the master at his most illuminating and embracing.

Set against the revolution of 1848, the hero, Frédéric Moreau, falls helplessly in love with a married woman. I identify—not with the love of a married woman—with Moreau’s life and times as a young artist living among others like him in Paris. He and his fellow artists live their bohemian lives with ardor and hope, and the passion of youth and creativity flows wonderfully through the book.

In the early 1980s, when I lived in Lahore, Pakistan, and served on the board of the Lahore American School—an institution that catered to rich Pakistanis and expats whose commercial companies paid the high tuition—I talked to a fourth-grade class whose Pakistani teacher was a close friend. She alerted me twenty years later that one of those students had just published his first novel, describing the fast life of the affluent and often decadent Pakistanis who lived in mansions, partied till dawn, drank heavily, and engaged, it was rumored, in romantic liaisons with each other’s spouses.

Moth Smoke describes this life, with a main character who falls in love with a friend’s wife while losing his job and turning to the sale of heroin and hashish to survive.  Mohsin takes the reader through a bittersweet recounting of life in the fast lane in modern Pakistan, a life I observed for… show more.

I disagreed with almost every action by every character in this book. I’d find myself saying to them: “Don’t do that!” But they did do that. And it kept me reading nonstop.

It’s a strange feeling, to watch characters spin out of control, yet be unable to look away. It's also the mark of terrific storytelling, and writing that I greatly admire.

The Moviegoer was the first novel I read which had little plot and a great deal of meaning. Basically, it’s about one man’s search for meaning in a world which values shallowness and consumerism above all else. It’s as relevant today as it was when written and the prose is amazing!

First up in Fante’s famous quartet of Bandini novels—The Road to Los Angeles is a literary—Tour De Force. The central narrator—Arturo Bandini—is stuck out in Boulder Colorado, where it is freezing cold, and nothing ever happens. Not surprisingly a young Arturo is keen to escape to warmer climes, and pursue a writing career in Hollywood. Immediately I could relate to the books central idea, as I was keen to do exactly the same at exactly the same age, albeit on the other side of the world. This novel introduces Fante's alter ego Arturo Bandini who reappears in Wait Until Spring, Bandini (1938), Ask the Dust (1939), and Dreams from Bunker Hill (1982). It’s an important first novel by an important American author.