Fans pick 100 books like The Night Circus

This book captivates me because Chris McCandless's quest for meaning and self-discovery mirrored my own struggles with never wanting to fit into a box determined by others. His desire to break free from societal constraints and find true fulfillment resonates with my own experiences. Jon Krakauer’s portrayal of McCandless’s adventure into the wilderness also strikes a chord with me, highlighting the extremes people go to in their pursuit of purpose and the consequences of those choices.

Reading it reminds me of the importance of embracing our own paths, even when they diverge from the norm and the profound insights that can come from stepping into the unknown.

Journeys are most often linear – Here to There – or circular – "There and Back Again." The Odyssey is actually a return leg in the most traumatic and perennial circular journey: going to war, and then, getting back. "Wily" (in modern terms, read, "sneaky," "trickster")  Odysseus left Troy a famous warrior, but takes seven years to get home. The fabulous episodes of that journey, the Cyclops, the Sirens, Scylla and Charybdis, Circe, and Calypso, the wreck in Phaeacia that leaves him bereft even of clothes, have grounded the Western imagination. But the concluding little things – the recognition scenes, the dog that dies, and the nurse who doesn't – push that epic past into a close, human Now.

This book by Celeste Ng is one of my favorite novels. It’s a beautifully told literary mystery that examines the lives of the five members of the Lee family. Ng masterfully writes from several points of view while unraveling the narrative that led to the death of the oldest Lee daughter by drowning. Was it suicide, or was she killed?

The story weaves in and out of the past, presenting each character’s aching need to belong and be accepted by those they love. There are no villains, but there are flawed parents who push their children to be reflections of their own desires and are driven to fit into a society that rejects them on the basis of either race or gender.   

J.R.R. Tolkien's masterful storytelling is unmatched, and The Lord of the Rings weaves together moral dilemmas and profound philosophical ideas seamlessly, encouraging me to contemplate the nature of power, the importance of preserving the natural world, and the significance of individual choices.

The book's themes of heroism, friendship, sacrifice, and the struggle between good and evil resonate deeply. In addition, each of his characters feels like an aspect of oneself; the introspection it inspires is brilliant!

The Lord of the Rings instills a sense of wonder, ignites the imagination, and imparts timeless wisdom, which heavily transformed my perspective on life, my values, and my understanding of the human condition.

Three worlds in one book! There’s the not-so-important world of the Ancelstierre, roughly Edwardian or early-20th-Century-ish, and there’s the Old Kingdom, basically medieval, where Charter Magic wars with Free Magic (and how well Nix thinks through the workings of his forms of magic).

But the third world is the one that takes the cake! An underworld of the dead, with its different levels, gates, and sills. Sabriel discovers her own special inheritance and powers—OK, that’s standard fantasy fare, except that Sabriel’s powers are those of an abhorsen. It’s the Abhorsen’s role to make sure that the dead stay dead, and journey on down into the deeper levels of death. Of course, the dead who keep coming back are the ones who drive the narrative!

Clarke transports the reader to England during the time of the Napoleonic Wars. There is, however, one small twist: magic once existed in this world and has now returned through two men, drastically changing the course of history and society.

The story is rich in gothic atmosphere and wry humour, and is positively bursting with ideas (there are almost 200 footnotes!). Clarke imbues her protagonists with conflicting approaches to the pursuit of knowledge, with Norrell representing cautious rationality and conservative methodology, while Strange embodies an adventurous spirit and a willingness to embrace the arcane and often the dangerous.

I have always adored the Chanel brand and have been intrigued by Coco Chanel’s childhood story and her rise to fame. Then to read the back story of her activities during World War 2 in Paris, I was gutted. The author depicts her as a full-on collaborator. All done in a bid to save her fortune, but at the expense of others. In this explosive narrative the author pieces together Chanel’s hidden years, her relationships with top-ranking Nazis, and her anti-Semitism.  

Discovering Diana, the reluctant witch who must rediscover herself and her supernatural talents, makes this novel a page-turner of magick and mystery. And I loved how the weave of those two powers pulled in the romance between Diana and Matthew. An added spicy balance that mixes like a brew into the witch and vampire families that are here and from the Otherworld.

I am not a vampire fan, but the magick here is irresistible. It became rather addictive because the witchcraft spells were so illusory that I felt “invited in.” The vampire scenes were a bit nerve-wracking, creating real tension for me. Diana’s journey was perfect, as it kept growing with obsessive and fantastical suspense. I was in their witch-vampire world, which was as frightening as it was compelling. 

I felt a deep connection to the characters in this book as they go through a journey of intense struggle. It is a thorough exploration of another world, including both the good and darker aspects of human nature. When I finished this book, I felt I had returned from a great adventure to another land with characters that I had come to know well. The book has a timeless relevance with its insights into human nature and the corruption of power.

I think Le Guin's world-building is nothing short of remarkable. Through her meticulous attention to detail, she crafts a society unlike any other. The exploration of power and its corrupting influence is a central theme.

Whenever I feel trapped, I think about this book. Told in the first person, it brought me into the asylum and locked me in there with the other patients, and even once I finished reading it, I didn’t feel completely free.

There’s something I like to call “Hollywood Mental Illness.” Movies tend to sugarcoat mental disorders and make them seem fun and entertaining. This book does nothing of the sort. I felt the isolation, the fear, and the sheer panic that these characters faced, like a huge, heavy ball in the pit of my stomach and a zigzagging anxiety that repeatedly paced across my mind. What makes it so dark and frightening is that it’s routed in so much truth, which makes it such a compelling story.