100 books like Witches Abroad

I love this book because it shows how to leave the ego behind and live in freedom. A passage in the Introduction immediately caught my attention. The author, who had a history of depression, finds himself saying, “I cannot live with myself any longer.” He suddenly realizes that he must be the “I” and that the “self” he can’t live with is just a fiction. This stuns him, his mind stops, and he wakes up, simple as that.

The rest of the book simply develops and amplifies that critical thought. It’s a realization we can all have. In fact, we’ll all have that realization at the moment we die—or now if we choose.

This book is one of those I go back to time and time again, thanks to Don Miguel Ruiz’s wisdom on personal freedom and transformation. The clarity and simplicity of the agreements—being impeccable with your word, not taking things personally, not making assumptions, and always doing your best—really stick with me.

They resonate especially during periods of significant change in my life, offering invaluable guidance on living authentically and effectively. Ruiz’s insights reinforce my belief in the importance of mindset and self-awareness for meaningful growth. Every time I read the book, I am reminded of the power of intentional living and how embracing these principles can lead to greater clarity, resilience, and a more fulfilling life.

I encountered this book backward. As a teenager growing up at the end of the US war in Vietnam, I read the Mad magazine spoof of the movie version long before I saw the movie itself, and then I read the novel. I focused on the antiwar theme and the concern of the bomber crew to get home without getting shot down.

The novel was based on Heller’s wartime experience, but I hardly realized it was about bombing Italy until I discovered the papers one of his crewmates had donated to Cornell University. I learned how many of the episodes were based on real incidents, including the only time the novel focuses on Italian civilians—when the crew objects to destroying an Italian Alpine village of no military significance. 

It’s quite possibly the scariest book ever written. Much scarier than most adult horror books. Adult horror books rely on cheap shock value to elicit cheaper scares. It provides the same (or greater) level of unease without resorting to the gratuitous.

I cannot fathom how this book managed to pull that off. But I can say that this book has more to offer adults than it can give to children. An adult can see the subtext of a story where a child disappears because a stranger offers them candy and toys, as well as the implication that such strangers may not be entirely human.

And I can’t tell you what makes it so great without spoiling the whole story. I was so engrossed in this story that it practically kidnapped me. I can’t recommend it enough.

Richard Hughes has always been my favorite under-read author. I tell people he writes as though he were the love child of A. A. Milne and Joseph Conrad.

A High Wind begins in an idyllic Caribbean setting, with the five Thornton and two Fernandez children living in what seems to be pre-lapsarian innocence; but Hughes soon plunks them square into the world of “Typhoon” and Lord Jim.

There are hellacious hurricanes and swashbuckling pirates involved, but it’s the pirates that are finally defenseless in the face of the children they unluckily take on board from an England-bound passenger ship. Time and time again, Hughes captures the bizarre ways in which children see the world, just as often warped by imagination as consolidated by fact.

I’m struck by the way his empathy for his characters never guarantees that their fate in his hands will be anything other than brutal.

The fragrance of exotic spice, dreamy Moroccan evenings rife with jasmine, and whispers of dark magic leap from the pages of this little-known fairy tale classic I latched onto as a kid. A young boy must save his beleaguered household from the mischievous plots of wicked djinn, helped by a kind and marvelously magical desert fox in disguise. This evocative tale is breathtaking for readers of all ages—a fantasy feast for the senses, embellished with illustrations by the great Fritz Eichenberg. A “best-kept secret” treasure that I still read once a year!

Like Stephen King, Clive Barker has an impressive list of horror-themed novels for all tastes, ranging from fantasy to deeply disturbing and graphic horror tales like Books of Blood. This book skews more toward fantasy but still has its share of scares and disturbing imagery.

A young boy is sent on a whimsical and horrifying imaginative adventure. It’s like a modern-day Grimm fairy tale, right up my alley.

REBT is a form of CBT, but it is much more than that. Developed in the mid-50s by a genius called Albert Ellis (sadly, no longer with us), it’s also considered a school of thought, or philosophy, for everyday living.

When you get the gist of it and know how to use it, it’s a great way of looking at life in a calmer, happier, and more productive way. Ellis was a bit of a maverick and liked to challenge, provoke, and cajole his clients into change. He also used a lot of humor.

This was the first therapy book I read that didn’t read like a therapy book (or ‘how to’ manual), and I took it like a duck to water. It’s why I chose to train in REBT.

This is the second book in the Guards sequence, but it’s easy enough to start here. This detective story set in the sprawling, smelly metropolis of Ankh-Morpork, featuring dwarves, werewolves, and (occasionally) humans, is a laugh-out-loud and anarchic book, managing to be hugely joyous and page-turningly compelling at the same time. Insanely silly and utterly real, with characters so solid you can see (or in some cases, smell) them long after you turn the last page.

How often have I heard, “Oh, Q. W. Aardvark’s fantasy is awesome, but you really need to read all 8,326 books in the series to get it”! How about no? Fortunately, I learned the secret of Pratchett’s Discworld series: each novel is freestanding.

I like this book because it’s like a cynical, bitter uncle who secretly has a teddy bear—despite the outward grime and gloom of the setting, there’s a hilarious wit, punning, and barrage of pop references underlying the story that gives it a heart. It’s fantasy for those who don’t think they like it.