Books like A Handful of Dust — picked by fans

This book is an unyielding portrayal of the excesses of 1980s consumerism, hedonism, and self-destruction. Amis pulls no punches in his depiction of John Self, a 35-year-old director of TV commercials who lives a life of excess driven by his appetites—primarily for food, drugs, alcohol, sex, and, of course, money. Through John Self’s descent, the novel delivers a harsh commentary on the culture of greed and indulgence that characterized the decade.

The novel's portrayal of greed, addiction, and sexism rubbed some readers and critics the wrong way. Some saw it as too nihilistic or excessively grim in its critique of 1980s culture, where everything seemed for sale, including morality. However, in this age of trigger warnings, safe spaces, and pervasive purity spirals, I personally found its unapologetically gritty satire a breath of fresh air.

This book will appeal not only to fans of dark humor and satire but also to… show more.

This is classic, quintessential British humor, the kind of dry wit that makes you laugh out loud as you’re reading. I didn’t want it to end because of how hilarious I found the main character. Even while being funny, the book does a great job establishing the imposter syndrome the main character feels as a member of the middle class attempting to enter the elite halls of academia as an older graduate student.

He is a fish out of water, incapable of having normal social interactions with his peers, “betters,” or students. Possibly, the best-ever hangover scene in writing occurs in this book. 

A complex magic realist novel. Two Muslim Indians are on a highjacked plane that explodes over the English Channel. As they fall into the sea, Bollywood superstar Gibreel Farishta, turns into the Archangel Gabriel, while Saladin Chamcha, a voiceover artist, metamorphoses into the Devil. They struggle with their new identities, with rivalry, with life in Britain, and in Gibreel’s case, with mental illness. Like all Rushdie’s work, it is a post-colonial perspective on the metropolis and the identity crises of the ex-colonised. There are long dream sequences about an Arabian prophet called Mahmoud—who resembles the founder of Islam. The Ayatollah Khomeini sentenced Rushdie to death for blasphemy for this. This all sounds deep and portentous—and it is—but it’s also unfailingly funny and original. And brave. An inspiration. 

Is it a coincidence that the first great novel of Western civilisation is a satire? I think not. It began as a parody of the chivalric romances—of their disconnect from reality, their sentimentality, and dishonesty. I needn’t summarise the plot, since everyone knows the story, though usually from films, unfortunately. As with all the great satires, what appears to be a playful romp ends up being an investigation into what it means to be human—the purpose of our lives, and what makes them worthwhile. Initially, Cervantes wants us to laugh at the ridiculous old country gentleman who longs to revive chivalry, but he finds that Quixote makes his life meaningful by creating his quest. He becomes a hero—as does my protagonist. And as we all can.  

The animal is a number of racehorses. The human is a collection of owners, trainers, jockeys, and more, yielding a comprehensive look at human and animal behavior in the horse racing industry. A strong, intimate novel. I used to ride but never very well, and I’ve always wondered what a horse’s “thoughts” involved. Author Smiley gave me a feel for that as she applied her own assumptions to one horse in particular.  

A story about a biographer who pokes into the corners of a Nobel-winning author’s salacious life to write an exposé is juicy enough, but what happens when the latter uses the opportunity to write a counter-exposé on the former? Unstructured in plot and other novel-craft, this book is laden with pithy quotes on the writing life. The biographer and his subject are libidinous, adulterous, and self-absorbed, a testament to the fact that a writer has to be appreciated separately from their work. Also on display are the strategies employed by the publishing industry to keep the reputation and marketability of a once best-selling author alive, long after their effective shelf-life. 

For any long-haul flight, Tom Sharpe is one of my go-to authors; he encapsulates British wit at its finest. Of the many that I’ve read, I probably feel the greatest connection to Porterhouse Blue. Having experienced Oxbridge undergraduate life for myself, this book revives so many memories. The main characters are so beautifully crafted and relatable. The resemblance of lead character Skullion to a porter at my old college is uncanny. As for Zipser the undergrad... well, having also been ‘romantically frustrated’ in my own college days, I have great empathy for him... including his fixation for the buxom bedder on his staircase.  

The Short and Incredibly Happy Life of Riley is a book that, well, the first time I read it my mind was blown. This is a self-help book for all humans in a picture book. It takes our thirst to live forever, to always want more, be more, see more, do more, look better, and compares that with the wonderful Riley, who is happy with some fruit and maybe a couple of slugs on Tuesday or Friday.

He likes a little stick that can scratch his back.
He looks like Riley. Why would he want to look like anything else?

This is a beautifully written and illustrated book on being grateful for what we have.

While I grew up at the tail end of the Cold War, there was something in The Mouse that Roared that really spoke to me. The way that it takes an already absurd reality to an extreme really spoke to my own sensibilities and humor. History books tell the facts, but stories like this reflect how absurd the geopolitical culture must have felt to most people. It’s akin to Dr. Strangelove, not only in being a Cold War satire, but in the absurd and extreme nature of the farce. It influenced my own political satire heavily.

I could have picked anything by George Saunders, really. He’s the closest thing I have to a personal deity. Such is the level of awe and wonder that he invokes in me, I actually find him difficult to discuss. It’s like trying to look directly at the sun.

Suffice it to say that CivilWarLand in Bad Decline—the title refers to a failing theme park—is like all of his other short story collections. It’s beautiful and wise and heart-breaking and deeply intelligent and, yes, desperately funny. I would pay a lot of money to be able to read it again for the first time.