101 books like The Circle

A “fictional autobiography” that has really stuck with me, What is the What is based on the real-life experiences of Valentino Achak Deng, who survived the brutality and terror of Sudan’s second civil war.

At six or seven years old, he was separated from his parents when his village, Mariel Bai, was virtually wiped out by militia. Against all odds, he ultimately made it all the way to the United States, only to experience injustice, violence, and cruelty again.

Incredibly, the real story told in What is the What is one of hope and resilience, and it’s a powerful reminder that chance and circumstances are the only differences between us and anyone else on this planet. Gee, I don’t know… maybe we should all act accordingly? 

P.S. Somewhat controversial for its “autobiographical” claim despite being novelized—some say appropriated—by another person, What is the What was required reading at numerous US… show more.

I’m fascinated by the ways AI and intimacy are becoming intertwined.

We already trust AI with our deepest thoughts, questions, and secrets. Increasingly, people are forming intimate relationships with this software that knows them so well. The more it learns about us, and the better it becomes at anticipating what we want, the more complicated our ideas about desire, consent, and control become.

Like my book, Annie Bot asks whether a choice can truly be yours if someone (or something) has been designed to shape it. If technology can influence or even manufacture desire, what does consent look like?

I love fiction that understands how intoxicating tech culture can be.

The Startup Wife captures technology, ambition, relationships, and founder worship in a way that is funny, sharp, and painfully recognizable. What resonated with me most was the way it explores how love can make ambitious women voluntarily surrender power—sometimes without realizing how much they’ve given away until it’s already gone.

That’s one of the places it overlaps with my book: both books satirize tech culture while still taking seriously the consequences of the products being built, and the human relationships tangled up in them.

The concept of this story is amazing, especially at a time when they are “bringing back” different species. I am often amazed at what scientists have been able to accomplish in real life, and it’s even more fun to read about it in fiction. 

Another thing that I loved about this story is how it shows that nature cannot be contained. We can manipulate it, but we’d better not make too many assumptions about how things will progress because nature has its own way of doing things.

The characters were also great in both the book and the movie.

This book filled me with pure wonder. The futuristic setting felt like a glimpse into a world we’re on the brink of creating, where technology can be both a refuge and a battlefield. I loved the way it combined a digital universe with a gritty, imperfect reality—it made me think about how much potential the future holds, both thrilling and terrifying.

The sense of exploration and possibility was so vivid that I found myself daydreaming about what could be long after I turned the last page. It’s a story that reminds me how powerful imagination can be. The characters aren’t perfect, which made them feel real, and I was hooked by the idea of ordinary kids taking on extraordinary challenges. This one made me feel like anything was possible in the future.

Published just two days after World War II was declared in Europe in 1939, and two years before the United States would enter the conflict, Dalton Trumbo’s powerfully emotional story centering on horribly wounded American World War I soldier Joe Bonham sparked controversy for its anti-war stance, while also winning the 1939 National Book Award for Most Original Book.

Apparently inspired by an article Trumbo had read about the Prince of Wales paying an emotional visit to Curley Christian, a Canadian soldier who’d survived the loss of all four limbs at the 1917 Battle of Vimy Ridge. Johnny Got His Gun is simply a gut-wrenching read that took me to places no one should really go.

Let’s just say I was a different 14-year-old the day I closed its covers and sat thinking for a very, very long time.

What I liked about The One is how it takes an irresistible technological promise and follows it into unsettling territory: what if science could tell you exactly who you were meant to be with? Sounds romantic and impossible to resist—which is what makes the consequences so creepy. 

I love stories where technology doesn’t just control people from the outside, but changes their choices, relationships, and desires. That tension is very close to what interested me in writing my book: if a system can tell you who you want, how much of wanting them still belongs to you?

I devoured this book.

Yes, it’s nonfiction, but it has everything I love about great Silicon Valley fiction: big tech insider energy, corporate absurdity, bizarre culture, powerful people behaving badly, and the feeling that the decisions being made inside an office might eventually affect everyone outside it.

It’s sharp, wildly entertaining, and exactly the kind of tech-industry drama I’d happily take to the beach.

I’d never heard the term “epistolary novel” prior to reading Michael Kun’s The Locklear Letters, but was immediately smitten with the concept of telling a story solely through a series of letters and/or emails sent by the narrator.

This sequel follows the same template and the same protagonist a decade down the line. I liken it to finding a boxful of letters and using them to piece together a hilarious comedy of errors. Maybe you’ll keep digging and find an older box later, or maybe the archivist kept orderly annals, allowing you to move forward through the years.

Sequencing doesn’t matter, but the written words will leave you in stitches. 

It’s hard to call any David Mitchell book a “sequel” since he writes in one big interconnected universe spanning multiple time periods, but Slade House was my entry point into his wonderful world, and I haven’t looked back.

Short and eerie, the five interconnected short stories (each set 9 years apart) making up his seventh novel serve as a perfect standalone primer to Mitchell’s special brand of magical realism and recurring characters.