216 books like Home to Stay!

When I was younger, I wanted to read all the classic dystopies that are there, and this is, of course, one of them.

So I did expect a dystopie—what I didn‘t expect was the emotional impact this book would have on me. I absolutely fell in love with Guy Montag, one of the best protagonists, in my opinion, telling us his story; and there‘s a whole range of side characters that will stick with you long after the ending.

And the ending—don‘t worry, no spoilers here—is something that really stuck with me. Unlike other dystopian stories, this novel leaves the reader on a hopeful note. It might be a dark and bad world, but it‘s not the end, and there is hope.

Such a powerful note to end the book.

I love this book for its poetic, dreamlike quality. Bradbury’s writing pulled me in and didn’t let go, painting a picture of Mars that was both beautiful and tragic. As a pre-teen and a teen, in my imagination, I had red dust stuck to my feet, and I was there with the characters. What captivated me was the way the stories felt timeless—each one was like a snapshot of a moment layered with meaning.

I felt like I wasn’t just reading a book about colonizing Mars; I was exploring humanity’s deepest fears, hopes, and regrets. We have companies only today working on getting to Mars, I feel so upset that I know I will likely never set foot on those dusty red shores, but I am thrilled to know it may still happen for others.

Bradbury’s work made me think about the consequences of exploration—how, in our quest to conquer… show more.

There’s something deliciously attractive about this book.

The language Bradbury uses draws me in every time I visit it, and it keeps me hooked. This was another book I found as a kid, and it left its hooks in me from when I was young.

Is it morbid? There are definitely morbid parts to it. And it deals with life-and-death situations, but it’s just so good. I never wanted it to end.

A mix of coming of age in the first half of the twentieth century, and Bradbury’s peculiar brand of very earthly oddness and sci-fi strangeness, Dandelion Wine is full of all sorts of magic. It reminds you of what it is to be a small human again, when everything seems possible, and aliens and monsters are as likely (and as important) as long summer days spent outside, barefoot and sunburnt and a little feral. Even when we don’t recognise the details of the childhood described, we remember the feeling, and it reawakens a sense of wonder that’s incredibly precious.

I'd heard about this famous book many years before I actually got around to reading it. What I loved about this book was its originality.

I am always reminded about Orwell's book whenever I hear phrases like ‘ thought police’ or ‘big brother’, which have become part of our everyday language. Probably one of the most influential books ever written. For me, the message of Orwell’s book is that the State will always win.

I used this book to relieve the boredom of a long daily commute.

Instead of looking out of a train window at the same old scenery I'd passed a thousand times before, I was now taken to a dystopian society in which everything which I had taken for granted about family life was turned upside down. Where humans are manufactured to a specification instead of being born. A new pseudo religion where everyone makes the sign of the ‘T’, to signify their devotion to the original Ford Model T, which was the first vehicle to be manufactured on an assembly line.

I‘ve always been fascinated by the dividing line between human and monster. Because, what is a monster?

I know, this kind of question will usually get a quick answer, but I have been thinking about this particular question for quite some time now. I am Legend revolves around this question, and I love it for that. I also love it for the somewhat unexpected twist in the end, and that one can be interpreted as an answer.

Anyway, for me, this book got me thinking about morale and ethics and other stuff. I just like it when a book gets me to that point where I think: wait a moment, but what if…?

I was 9 years old when I read this title for the first time—which is not to say the John Carter series is suitable for that age group. In 1959, I was given a junior bookworm card for the library at Union Church, Metro Manila, Philippines, where I discovered a lot of material I was too young to read.

Burroughs was a man of his times—scholar, cowboy, rancher, drifter, would-be soldier—a young adult at the turn of the 19th century when every house on every street was occupied by durable, resilient people. That was his reality. It shows in the work.

In 1866, a U.S. Army captain is mysteriously transported into conflict on the planet Mars. Airships, monsters, warring clans, beautiful women, giant doglike creatures. You name it, Mars has it. Preposterous, right? I took another read just to see and suspended disbelief right away. There’s that Magical Realism act… show more.

A short story compilation, within which the title ‘Uncle Einar’ made such an impression that I still, to this day, remember what it was about, who wrote it, and when I read it. I found it on my dad’s nightstand 65 years ago. That’s how much I liked it. Although the collection falls mostly into the fantasy genre, the title Uncle Einar is something of a crossover (Mutants!) and heartwarming to boot.

Many of these stories were first published in the pulp magazine Weird Tales, but keep in mind we’re talking about the 1940s and 50s. They called it ‘macabre fiction’. These days, we call it YA.

But this is, first and foremost, a work of literature, a timeless classic upon which the author made a splendid reputation, replete with lyrical prose, imaginative concepts, surprise endings, and persuasive dialogue. Also, an example of Magical Realism, a literary approach I… show more.

Jonas is our youngest protagonist on the list. He is destined to be the receiver of memories in a futuristic utopian society. Those memories are to be passed down to him by an old man, the Giver.

Jonas lives in a society where people are innocent—innocent of emotion, pain, and suffering. He must lose his innocence to experience the joys and pains of humane experience. 

That’s a heavy responsibility. And it’s Jonas’ thoughtfulness and curiosity that draws me to him. He faces difficult ethical choices. His awakening is unique to the fictional world he inhabits, but it is universal in theme. His quest to gain knowledge, his willingness to question authority to get to the truth, and his ability to make tough choices to experience the depth of what it means to be human make him someone I would want in my corner.