75 books like The Rich Man's House

This book is also heavily dog-eared. It is full of chin-dropping facts about how we got here and why we need systems change to address climate change. The climate crisis is clearly exposed, but it is ultimately a positive book.

Klein explains how policies and actions to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions also offer an opportunity to reduce inequalities, redefine democracy, and bring back thriving local economies. The "market" can’t fix the climate crisis. We can use this crisis to reweave our relationship with nature and with each other to create a better world.

This book is a must-read for understanding the politics, economics, and undercurrents that have delivered us to the crisis we are now in.

While I enjoyed this book while I was reading it, it was only after I’d digested it (pun intended) that I really came to appreciate its value. I think one of the real measures of an artwork is how much it sits with you in the months and years after the initial read/watch/listen, and this is one I think about often. The story follows a documentarian attempting to serve the corporate hierarchy and produce an asinine show about American wives and the meat-filled dinners they serve their husbands, but the novel gradually unfolds as a complex critique of misogyny, corporate control, Japanese and American culture, and the brutal nature of the modern livestock industry. 

I love seeing rich, powerful, and corrupt figures get their just desserts, and this book delivers this in spades–very inventive spades.

Here, a gonzo journalist finds that important people he has been writing about are turning up dead, murdered in fascinatingly brutal and clever ways. Murders that make us, the readers, just as complicit as the perpetrator since, while we may want to look away, the vicarious satisfaction we get from them surely condemns us as much as the killer.

I’m using the word ‘we’ here, but maybe I just mean myself–I doubt it! This makes this book sound like a grim read, but it isn’t–Banks was a superb, funny, socially aware writer who could deliver memorable, entertaining characters, some of whom you’d like to hang out with, others not so much…

Some mysteries are related more to character than plot, and sometimes figuring out ‘whodunnit’ is only half of the solution. Emily St. John Mandel’s terrific novel begins with a clear mystery setup: somebody has graffitied the words ‘Why don't you swallow broken glass’ onto the window of a hotel, triggering a series of events that have profound effects on a disparate group of people. The joy of reading this book is seeing how far away from this initial incident we can stray, whilst still retaining a desire to unravel the cause and effect.

After a “massacre” of a herd of elk on a protected reservation forest—a scene which spoke more of frenzied bloodlust than hunting for sustenance—four Blackfoot men become the prey of a creature bent on revenge.

Jones’s narrative satisfied my thirst for wholly original horror while exploring the clash of Native American traditional and contemporary culture. The story touches on the characters’ drive to assimilate, guilt and sense of identity, and the need to move beyond resentments to create a life worth living.

I loved the originality of the beast, the slice of reservation life, and the endearing, flawed characters, all rendered with gorgeous precision.

Yes, it’s a bit dated, but it was a bold, pioneering book for its day. Barber doesn’t shrink from describing birds as they are: intelligent, flexible, emotional animals with lives and personalities.

Unable to finish a manuscript? This delicious book came about (I’m told) by accident, when its author, struggling with his vast magnum opus, decided to put it down, almost randomly, into a little book of startling essays. The result is an eye-opening study of how “things” need “persons” to speak on their behalf, becoming personable. Includes amazing insights into iconoclasm, ecological litigation, and the legal fight of Abolitionists. And teaches how to write less, cut more, and edit with creative abandon.

The Bun Field is a dream journey of a genderless child. It has a strange and nightmarish feel to it; the protagonist is being so vulnerable and kind of hurt, but it is not without a constant dark sense of humor. Dark as the country Finland in wintertime. It has a delicious pencil-smudged style as the school of Feuchtenberger has influenced many northern artists, myself included. 

Many years ago, I fell in love with Watership Down, Richard Adams’ iconic book about the trials and triumphs of rabbits, from the rabbit’s point of view.

With my doctorate in animal science, I know that neither rabbits nor horses can act, react or think like humans. Giving animals human-only abilities is called anthropomorphism and is not considered scientifically acceptable. That doesn’t matter when Richard Adams fuses his writing skills with a delightful concept of how animals face amazing challenges.

Traveller, Robert E. Lee’s famous war horse, narrates his view of a tragic general fighting in an epic failure of the human spirit. 

Another Newberry Medal winner, this book is unlike the rest because the terror doesn’t come from the supernatural. It’s from the cruelty of mankind and scientific testing on animals.

What I love about this book, and the movie made in the “nineteen hundreds”, is it respected the readers. It told us a frightening story and trusted us to be able to process it. Like all the books on this list, the authors didn’t treat us like kids. They treated us like readers, and that’s the best thing a writer can do for their fans.