36 books like The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Like The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Frank Herbert’s book tells the story of a man who could be the villain or the hero, depending on who you ask. I love watching how an intelligent yet malleable person can be swept up in feelings of duty, responsibility, and leadership only to make highly questionable decisions.

Paul Atreides’ moral ambiguity is undeniably engineered by the shifting and slimy political landscape of the Dune universe, driving home the idea in my mind that good worldbuilding can set the stage for truly complicated characters.

Another meticulously researched work of nonfiction, this book opened my eyes to the connection between real-life murders in Victorian England and the start of the public’s obsession with detective fiction.

As a fan of mysteries and thrillers in which not all characters survive, I was fascinated to see how the genre literally began. I’ve read a bunch of the old serialized tales, the “Penny Dreadfuls” talked about in this book, and I loved seeing them placed into their larger historical and cultural context.

As shocking as I felt Kubrick’s film was, I think the book is possibly more startling. Some scenes Kubrick played for laughs are described as violent and sadistic in the novel. If, like me, you are a fan of the film, it’ll fill in some blanks for you. Ever wonder why Alex and his friends drink milk?

The book is written in futuristic teen-speak that did take me a while to get my head around, but this ultimately adds to the strangeness of the insular world these ‘droogs’ inhabit. Though it was first published in 1962, I think this is still a very relevant and unflinching look at the place of violence in society.

This story and its questions of eugenics and our place in society really horrified me, not because it was unbelievable, but precisely because it was far too real. The genetic superiority/inferiority, coupled with social indoctrination into our “advanced” society, made me meditate a great deal on what it means to be human.

What are humans without societal pressures? The way Huxley looked at the costs of freedom was really compelling. And in so many ways, he accurately predicted the destructive side of the social microscope that we all live in today under social media.

Legends are made of powerful stuff, and nothing has greater power than a total flip in perspective. I still recall the gut-punch end to this book, though it’s been decades since I read it. 

Robert Neville is a vampire hunter by day and a tormented man by night. As seemingly the only living human in post-apocalyptic Los Angeles, Robert faces depression, isolation, alcoholism, and his undead neighbor, Ben Cortman, who appears outside Robert’s front door each night chanting, "Come out, Neville."

But when Robert is finally captured, and the truth of his situation is revealed, he gets a good look at the world through the eyes of the undead and is forced to ask himself, who am I? What have I become? 

As a writer of Victorian mysteries, I love books that depict how the role of police evolved from peacekeepers to investigators. The case, the Radcliff Highway Murders of 1811, was a catalyst for that change. Truthfully, I often shouted at this book and turned the air into a dark ultramarine cloud around me. But then, I love a book that rouses my emotions.

I love PD James’s mystery novels, and although this is nonfiction, it boasts her analytic style and her skill in crafting an atmosphere. Did she and Mr Critchley identify the real killer? We’ll never know, but I will be wondering for many years to come. 

There are few joys to match happening upon a fabulous book by accident. This was the case in Kate Summerscale's work. I knew nothing about it when I picked it up, but I liked the premise. I started to read it on the bus going home and finished it in two days.

This real 1860 murder inspired many writers, from Dickens to Conan Doyle, and I can see why. It contains all those elements so dear to the hearts of mystery lovers like me: a corpse, a detective, and a closed circle of suspects in a country manor. This is a book I will reread, probably more than once. 

Perhaps the most classic work of horror fiction in both literature and cinema. As an English teacher, I find that there is so much fodder for lessons prevalent in this book–nature vs nurture, the dangers of forbidden knowledge and playing God, the arrogance of science, and who the real monster is. I particularly love the difference between The Monster in the novel and the film, its articulation, desires, abilities, and even its physical appearance. Few written works have been more seminal.

I realize this book isn’t one of King’s supernatural thrillers like Kujo or The Shining, both of which petrified my middle-school self into turning the pages late, late into the night. But Misery is the best of King’s work because this “super-psychological” thriller pits two antithetical forces against one another.

The police interview setup seems a straightforward approach to story-telling, but it turns into a deeply emotion, personal journey for Paul, the book’s hero. We learn in subsequent pages that Paul’s “number one fan,” Annie Wilkes, refuses to allow Paul to continue on a journey of self-aggrandizement...to the point she’s willing to brutalize and imprison him…all while claiming to love his mind. Paul’s imagination becomes his only viable tool to escape Annie’s machinations.

Misery is powerful, brilliant work and the reason I now write mysteries and thrillers.

This book is the scariest book I have ever read. Most people know the film, but the book is scarier. I was shocked to find that topiaries are, in fact, terrifying. They still make me uncomfortable.

It took me a while to recognize that, at its core, this is a haunted house story, and it is very haunted, with what I think are magnificently crafted ghosts. I also love this book because it is a story about a writer trying to write. I relate to it.

Steven King is a writer’s writer. Being holed up, lost in another world, and spending long hours alone can make me a little bit crazy, too.