Fans pick 100 books like Thin Air

I am not frightened by Cthulhu, the tentacled monsters waiting in the depths of outer space or the ocean. I am mesmerized by them. Lovecraft, often labeled a horror writer, is one of the greatest literary fantasists. His imagination is boundless, and he is as adept at describing strange new environments as he is at evoking a sense of cosmic dread.

This classic novel combines Lovecraft’s signature monsters with an incredible dreamlike atmosphere that grips you and does not let you go. When you stand at the summit of the Mountains of Madness and glimpse what lies on the other side, you are torn between fear and fascination. For me, at least, fascination always wins.   

I first read this book when my baby son was teething. I cradled him in my arms, walked around, and kept reading, unwilling to put it down. Since then, I have reread it several times. The goal of fantasy and science fiction is to transport you into a different world, and Silverberg, a veteran SF writer, knows how to do just that.

The impossible mountain of the book, the Wall, so tall and so sheer that nobody who tries to climb it comes back unchanged (or comes back at all), has loomed in my imagination ever since. I want to be the one to scale it and to find out what waits at the summit. And even though I know the ending, the thrill of discovery is still there every time I reread it.

I love cats and mountains. Both are unrequited loves. I am allergic to cats and have a mild fear of heights. But this is precisely the reason why I am fascinated by informed descriptions of mountaineering in books, especially if the climb leads the reader toward something strange and otherworldly.

Climbing the famous El Cap in Yosemite is a challenge even for experienced mountaineers. But it becomes doubly so when you encounter a ghostly apparition while suspended in a fragile cradle thousands of feet above the ground.

This novel, by turns thrilling, touching, and frightening, satisfied both my love for fantasy and my desire to know more about the actual experience of mountain climbing.   

I sometimes imagine what it would be like to wake up on top of a snowbound mountain, knowing you are alone–and then to hear footsteps outside…It is safe to imagine, of course, because I am NOT alone in a chalet in the Swiss Alps but in my own home, surrounded by my family. However, for a character in this stunning European novel, this is how it all starts.

And then, as you follow the incredible twists and turns of the plot and try to puzzle out the relationships among the characters, you realize that nothing is as it seems. The novel perfectly captures the brooding atmosphere of the Swiss Alps, which I visited as a tourist, although I did not end up in the abandoned valley haunted by echoes. I am glad I did not–but thrilled to read about the characters who did.

I was on a spiritual retreat when I found an old, dusty copy of Lost Horizon in the retreat’s library. Some of this book is surely dated—having a Christian monk as the head of a Tibetan nirvana hasn’t aged well—but the heart and soul of James Hilton’s tale of a world gone mad and one man’s discovery of a hidden paradise feels more relevant than ever. We’re all looking for Shangri-La, for the hidden paradise in our own hearts, and Hilton, through his compelling, heartfelt story, points the way.

I don’t know about you, but when I learned history in elementary school, we skipped straight from Ancient Greece and Rome to the Norman Conquest with the briefest of nods at Byzantium to acknowledge there was something in between. It was all very simple and straightforward—and completely left out the crumbling kingdoms left behind in the wake of the fall of Alexander the Great’s Empire.

I can still remember opening Gillian Bradshaw’s Horses of Heaven for the first time and thinking, “What’s Ferghana? Or Bactra?”  Gillian Bradshaw wrote a number of books set in the wake of Alexander’s empire, but this one is the one that really stuck with me, told through the eyes of a girl picked to go as attendant to a Greek aristocrat from Bactra being married to King Mauakes of Ferghana (now Afghanistan).

Wow. This book grabbed me, forced open my mind, and turned me into a Sinophile. I’m into my third reading now, all 2,000 pages of it.

Crazy adventures, Buddhism, Taoism, and a journey into my own society—there’s too much Monkey in me, and I could use a bit more Sha Monk. My own novel is based on this Chinese classic.  

My all-time favorite amateur detective is Miss Marple, and if I had to pick a favorite book she is in, it would be this one. I love the idea of a quiet, mostly ignored spinster who most people dismiss being the one character who seems to know exactly what is going on and what people are up to.

I really like the way Miss Marple figures out why the main character thinks she is going mad and proves that she isn’t. In this book, Miss Marple really proves her status as one of the best amateur detectives, and I love it.

I’ve spoken to people who really couldn’t get into this book, and I consider them somewhat deranged. It’s a rollicking good read, and maybe it helped that I enjoyed the author reading the story, which added to my enjoyment. I’ll go out on a limb and suggest very few authors make great audiobook performers. Mortimer absolutely does, getting the voice of the squirrel spot on.

There’s a strange and convoluted plot set in the not-terribly-underworld of London. A brilliant neighbor part for Kathy Burke should Mortimer ever be fielding Netflix offers. It’s a book you’ll read in days, not weeks. Fast-paced and has me on edge for part two–out in August.

I read this book in high school and absolutely loved the entire idea, of essentially a prisoner of war escape plan similar to The Great Escape, set in a science fiction universe against the scale and scope of a planet. 

I love how the author took a main character that had been so strong and tough through seven previous books and made her vulnerable, gave her new room to grow, and allowed some of her supporting cast to shine as well.