100 books like The Stories of Eva Luna

The Elephant Vanishes includes two of my favorite stories by any contemporary writer.

Set in the forested vicinity of a factory that makes elephants, “The Dancing Dwarf” follows the adventures of a marvelous dwarf who once danced for the king, alas, now pursued by soldiers of the revolution. The other side of the spectrum, “The Last Lawn of the Afternoon” partakes of the fantastic only by osmosis. The care this teenage boy takes mowing and trimming his assigned lawns feels so real it reminds me of myself.

This range keeps the reader slightly off balance and full of expectation, which might not be so exciting if we weren’t in the hands of one of the finest practitioners of the craft anywhere in the world.  

This collection is an Introduction to an established writer of traditional horror with thirteen stories previously published in magazines, anthologies, or collections. I read these now as a single continuous work (like a symphony) with re-emerging themes.

Weaving in and out throughout the collection, the image of the shape-shifter develops with a wild inventiveness that never spins out of control. The same with the writer’s fascination with music that comes out humorously in the story “Collectable,” disturbingly accurate in “Under Iron.”

There is dark humor working beneath the surface that keeps readers alert and tingling with anticipation, a good effect if you’ve never tingled.  

This collection reads like realistic stories from the perspective of a single point-of-view that throws common life into the realm of the weirdly uncommon.

In fact, I kept reading to figure out what I was reading. What changed in the process? My own perception of the world in which we live. These people may be like us, but the writer looks at them with new and different eyes. These stories sneak up on you and take over your mind for a marvelously short time because it’s a short book of short stories—one I recommend because it’s so unusual.

Daniyal Mueenuddin derives the marvelous from the depiction of wealthy and poor Pakistani characters surviving as gracefully or gracelessly as humanly possible.

Reading at times like social anthropology, at times like magical realism, the stories are folk tales with inspections of and lessons about human foibles. Characters come to life with large and small schemes, machinations, and quasi-unconscious action that arises from a combination of tradition, desperation, and privilege.

The underlying humor, both dark and loving, is something the writer shares with the reader.  

This sumptuous, inclusive, achingly loving, and lovable novel is the first book I remember reading and thinking…this makes me want to be a writer.

Weetzie and her offbeat group of loved ones live in an LA painted five shades more magical by Block’s descriptions of it. As sweetly as she captures the diverse set of characters, the gift I treasure most in this story is how Block also captures the atmosphere of places: it’s like she’s dug underneath the surface to what makes them matter. 

I read The Brick People when it was first published in 1988.

At the time, I was already familiar with Morales’ work, but this historical novel about the Simons Brick Factory in Southern California and the Mexican migrants who the Simons brother depended upon for their success seized my imagination.

The author blends folklore, history, myth, and magical realism into a novel that relates the story of Mexican migrants and their complicity with or rebellion against the Simons brothers and the mores of the early 20th Century Los Angeles region.

Morales shows how history from the ground up is manifested in people’s lives.  His characters work and play hard as they seek to build community and pursue dreams of social mobility even when customs and laws prohibit them.

I love being taken to places I’ve never been before and being exposed to leaps in imagination. Marquez, the most famous of the school of magical realism, takes the reader on a journey through time and history in an unforgettable tale. The style of writing captures me in this book and has also influenced me. If you read no other book, read this one.

I was immediately drawn to a fellow Latina's story by virtue of being of Colombian ancestry and experiencing similar mystical and unusual experiences in my family. I have relatives in Colombia who lived through the political violence of the 1980s, and I could understand the dread she described in her book.

The reckoning between a concrete reality and a magical world was part of my writing challenge. I felt as if I had found a kindred spirit who shared a heritage of magic and mystery and the Latina approach to integrating this into our lives unapologetically.

The watercolor illustrations in this book are absolutely gorgeous, and the story itself mixes magical realism with an insightful truth. In providing us with opportunities, our parents have to sacrifice a little bit of themselves. Throughout the book, this abstract sacrifice is portrayed by the parent’s shrinking scale. The parents offer a few inches of their height in exchange to give their child a birthday cake, education, and books. Throughout time, the reader sees the parents shrink smaller and smaller as they give more and more of themselves to the young boy. This is a book that made us want to tear up, and a book that we wish we could have written.

This book is Hogwarts meets The Glass Bead Game meets The Handmaid's Tale. I was recommended it when I talked about my games book at a local bookshop. I must admit that I was initially very nervous about a book riffing on one of my favorite books of all time (The Glass Bead Game), but I really enjoyed it.

It is set in a school that trains students to play the game against a political backdrop that Margaret Atwood could easily have conjured up. It helped to give another perspective on Hesse’s fictional game that, as I said in my first recommendation, I’ve been obsessed with ever since reading about it as a student.