The most recommended books on hedonism

An accidental academic edge and idealistic, boosterish teacher lands Larkin’s non-entity protagonist in Oxford. Behavior degenerates from the tongue-tied comprehensive boy, ill at ease in the louche public school mob, to a fellow hearty and then a rowdy. After that, he becomes a stalker and gradually loses his marbles. Larkin has the protagonist write letters in the voice of the stalkee, Jill, and so imitate the assumed mindset of the innocent young girl primed for romance. Larkin would try something of this intimate interlocution again (passing himself off, as an author, as a retired headmistress) with his eroticized Enid Blyton-like novellas, Trouble at Willow Gables and Michaelmas Term at St Bride’s (dodging lesbian clinches with predatory older girls during late night Latin lessons in the dorms, frequent spankings from the headmistress, etc).

All this is brilliantly comic, proto-Angry Young Man and proto-punk, and counters the chilliness of post-war austerity with… show more.

My best friend recommended this book, and then when I hadn’t read it sent it to me. Obvs she knows me well; I love it!

I always thought I didn’t like horror, but it turns out I didn’t know what it was. The stories in The Changed Man felt like something I could write. They were weird and sometimes poignant. They are a slice of life that left me feeling uncomfortable but also curious and inspired to write, read, and think outside the box.

"Fat Farm" is one of the most brilliant short stories I’ve ever read. It so perfectly illustrates how short-sighted our thinking is around beauty, how our hedonism and values are a betrayal of ourselves. It’s so yummy! 

I found this mystery unusual because there are two protagonists, the fledgling detective Truman and his reluctant friend Celeste. I grew up with a canny mother and sisters, and seeing Celeste tacitly guide Truman in his new career, using her broader understanding of the world, feels familiar. The pair confront a blackmailing bully and try to shut down his operation. Their hedonistic approach to life, even in the most intense moments, is lighthearted and fun, and any woman who’s had a gay best friend or vice versa will recognize the humor in the pair of them chasing the same guys.

I actually only ranked this book four stars out of five initially (I’m a harsh marker), but I couldn’t get it out of my head. Imagine a cross between the Narnia series and the Harry Potter series, but all the main characters are Edmund/Malfoy types. People sometimes do heroic things, but there are no heroes here.

It’s all much more muddy. This is a fantasy novel set in the real world, at least to start with, but there are also heavy elements of horror, and I think that’s why it put barbs into my brain – the things that happen to important characters are traumatic, unforgettable, and often very sudden.

A book that stays with you, whether you want it to or not.

Like her or not, the reigning queen of the naughty girl subgenre of Chinese literature decidedly is Wei Hui, whose debut, Shanghai Baby, was a cultural phenomenon that resulted in public book burnings, an international media frenzy, dozens of imitators, and one so-bad-it’s-good movie adaptation starring Bai Ling. Not that Wei Hui is a particularly well-regarded writer – Shanghai Baby is basically a knockoff of shallow Western-style chick-lit, about a designer-brand-obsessed young woman who has an affair with a married foreigner – but in 1999 it was groundbreaking for kicking the publishing doors down for the post-1970s generation of Chinese writers.

The authors are two women who want to live outside the lines -- spontaneously, extraordinarily, and without alcohol. Their book offers instructions (and a road map) for finding joy without booze including sober dating and zero-proof cocktails, among others, so readers can indulge in life. It offers a unique perspective that maybe readers might not have considered before! 

For starters an absolutely brilliant book title: beautifully capturing the complexities of American culture, at once compelled by soaring social aspirations while tending to act out of pure individualism often with disdain for social impact. The narrative abounds in identifying seemingly contradictory national impulses – imported vs. Indigenous traditions, socialism vs. libertarianism, utopian vs. prosaic undertakings, the welcoming of and resisting of others – with the author arguing that through the interaction of such opposite impulses over time the particular genius of American society evolved. Kammen delights in reminding Americans of our “unstable pluralism,” and supports William James’ conclusion that “Americanism” continues to be a “volatile mixture of hopeful good and curable bad.”  Overall impressive scholarship and a delightful read.   

This book relates to a lot of what I’ve learned in my own research about rituals. Contrary to conventional wisdom, it argues that we humans are not hedonists by nature. Yes, we desire comfort and we pursue all kinds of pleasures. But we also often embrace struggle, effort, and even fear and pain, and those are in fact the things that make our lives truly meaningful. From watching horror films and climbing mountains to raising children and performing painful rituals, Paul Bloom argues that, in the right context, suffering can be part of a life well-lived.

This was one of those "stay up all night, call out of work so you can read just one more chapter" kind of books.

Henderson is an absolute master of worldbuilding and suspense, and her take on vampire lore perfectly showcases this. This story of a lower-class "blood maid" moving into a Victorian manor home in service of a mysterious, vampiric employer had such phenomenal explorations of class differences and power imbalance, absolutely bubbling sensual tension, and so many twists that I often had to put the book down and stare at a wall to digest.

I adored the way that queerness was an accepted and ingrained part of this world, along with the examples of female friendship and the steampunk Victorian gothic vibes throughout.

The heart of this fantasy trilogy, rife with complex, believable, and heart-breaking politics, is the relationship between Tansen, the unwilling witness to civil war, and Josarian, the face of that war that Tansen swears to protect. I love how Resnick uses their friendship to animate the conflict between patriotism and pragmatism, and the dynamic between the believer and the “once burnt, twice shy” cynic. Unforgettable.