100 Books Like Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

What truly is there left to say about this masterpiece of classic fantasy that hasn’t been said a million times already?

After devouring the light appetizer that is The Hobbit, my teenage imagination was utterly blown away by what I only later understood to be the quintessential blueprint for nearly everything that’s followed throughout the years in this genre.

The sheer level of minute detail and painstakingly developed mythos is nothing short of a masterclass in world-building—a must-have skill for writing this kind of epic tale—but it was the story itself, with its core principles of friendship, loyalty, and sacrifice, that resonated so deeply with me.

I was on a panel with John and really enjoyed reading his novel, set in the 1940s. Two teenage girls, Philippa and Judy, are brought together through school and their shared admiration for teacher Christina Martins. A rape—or was it?—and a murder turn this story into a noir tale wrapped in the secrets they keep from others, and themselves. The narrative is uniquely structured with a voice that may be one or the other, not revealed until the end.

As shocking as I felt Kubrick’s film was, I think the book is possibly more startling. Some scenes Kubrick played for laughs are described as violent and sadistic in the novel. If, like me, you are a fan of the film, it’ll fill in some blanks for you. Ever wonder why Alex and his friends drink milk?

The book is written in futuristic teen-speak that did take me a while to get my head around, but this ultimately adds to the strangeness of the insular world these ‘droogs’ inhabit. Though it was first published in 1962, I think this is still a very relevant and unflinching look at the place of violence in society.

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.

This book is a profound meditation on human resilience that never fails to move me. I'm constantly in awe of Hemingway's ability to weave so much meaning into such a deceptively simple tale. The way Santiago's unwavering determination shines through, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, resonates deeply with me.

I find myself returning to this book time and time again, drawing inspiration from the old man's quiet strength and dignity. The vivid portrayal of man's relationship with nature—both its beauty and its harsh realities—leaves me breathless. What I love most is how Hemingway captures the essence of the human spirit in Santiago's struggle, reminding me that true victory lies not in the outcome but in the perseverance of the journey.

This is an incredibly intricate book, braiding many strands together to tell the story of people who “might be going to have lived a long, long time from now in Northern California.” One thread tying it all together is Stone Telling, a young girl caught between her mother’s rich tribal life and the militaristic city life of the man who is her father. She tells him, “I am a woman, and make my own choices,” but learns that is not the case in the land of the Condors. Her story illuminates two of the many ways to be human. (I’m re-reading this now.)

I have never read a novel so close to prophecy.

Published in 1995, Parable starts in July 2024 amidst the election of an autocrat who, by the sequel Parable of the Talents, literally pledges to “make America great again.” I started my platform in 2015 in the same context.

This novel pulled me into its harrowing tale of how to survive civilizational collapse: the dismantling of systems, norms, and climate change that we are all currently going through.

The lesson is ultimately about embracing change, caring for and trusting each other in community, and coming up with our own ways of being together. So many of our ancestors have survived periods of collapse by the same principles. These ancestral lessons still guide me, and I believe are critical to surviving AI dystopia.

Every time I read something by George Saunders, I’m in awe of what, for me, is his trifecta of powers: hilarious writing, fantastically creative situations, and deep compassion for his characters and their choices. This book is no exception, and I was particularly struck by The Semplica Girl Diaries, which shows what lengths a suburban dad goes to—it involves unusual, morally questionable human lawn ornaments—in order to support his daughters’ happiness.

While reading these stories, I found my sympathies shifting and unfolding from character to character, each a person whose beating heart lies just below the surface of their unusual circumstances.

This was a book club choice, and as soon as I finished it, I bought the other two books in the trilogy. I literally couldn’t put them down! Another post-apocalypse for this list, this time, the story is told through the memories of Jimmy/Snowman. But make no mistake, the novel is about Crake, a brilliant, lonely, and terrifying young man.

As Jimmy tries to recover his past, shadowed by the gentle, green-skinned ‘children of Crake,’ he recalls the events leading up to the end of humanity. This is very much a mystery, so I must be careful what I reveal, but if you are all about misguided genius and hubris, you will adore this novel. Needless to say, with an author like Atwood, the writing is superb. 

I have a brother who is fifteen years my junior. When he was small, I often read him stories. One of our shared favourites, read over and over, was Sendak’s Wild Things. It’s a masterpiece.

He usually wrote the text, as well as making the wonderful pictures, and the text is short, simple, rhythmic, and beautiful. Sendak was a poet as well as an artist.

Think about it: a child of five and a young woman of twenty, reading the same book, poring over the illustrations together, and both having a whale of a time.

If you know a child of picture-book age who doesn’t own Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are—buy it for them!