Books like Drawing in the Dust — picked by fans

This story has remained one of my most favorite of all time.

While teaching English at a community college, I assigned this book to my students. Its tale, about a young Andalusian, Santiago, who leaves home to seek his destiny, changed my students’ lives and mine.

Together, we grew to appreciate that the best teacher is personal experience. We identified how travel teaches lessons, such as using caution judiciously and the necessity to work hard to achieve goals.

We also discussed how travel provides opportunities to develop skills like learning new languages and raises awareness about other people’s customs and perspectives. 

This book is a beautiful tale that demonstrates the ugliness of first impressions when it comes to viewing others. When Vivienne is looked down upon by the local mayor for being a single mother and nomadic traveler, he is making assumptions based on his own narrow-minded authority. 

I love how, despite his attempts to harm her financially, she continues to show how being an individual who is true to oneself means more than trying to fit the mold of what someone else might think you should be. 

I’ve read the first sentence of The Angel’s Game over and over, never tiring of the simple wisdom—and truth—of protagonist David Martin’s words: “A writer never forgets the first time he accepted a few coins or a word of praise in exchange for a story…” And for the rest of the novel, I’m caught in the web of an author whose prose is as pleasurable to read as the story itself. The Angel’s Game is an example of visionary/metaphysical fiction, a little-known genre under the umbrella of speculative fiction containing paranormal and/or supernatural elements that don’t exist in the real world. Carlos Ruiz Zafon, however, makes the unreal seem real and the impossible seem possible, a sign of a truly gifted writer.

I’m willing to bet that Dean Koontz would be the first to admit that, like many of his characters, he’s a little weird. But in a good way. Weird like those knowledgeable about quantum physics, synchronicity, and artificial intelligence. Weird like those into Edgar Allan Poe, T.S. Eliot, Werner Eisenberg, and Carl Jung. And weird like authors who use the last line of their stories to leave their readers with unsettling questions long after the reading is through. In my opinion, this very quality, this weirdness, applied to the art of fiction, results in tales that not only entertain but make a captivating read. The Big Dark Sky is an example of both, with its unforgettable characters, especially Jimmy Two Eyes and Artimis (the most intriguing—and scary—of them all), and the thought-provoking scientific, psychological, and philosophical concepts woven into the tale.

I love the dreamy art and timeless wisdom in this unique book. It reminds me that I'm in an eternal state of oneness with the universe right here and right now. This book is soothing and beautiful and speaks to the deepest longings of the soul!

Wittgenstein’s Mistress is a novel by David Markson that takes the form of a journal written by a woman living on a beach who believes she is the only person left on earth. It is made up of short paragraphs—often no more than a sentence—that record her lonely travels, like a surrealist Robinson Crusoe. At the risk of spoiling a conceptual twist, what begins as a metaphysical examination of language and the self turns out to be a study of grief and betrayal. If you are lonely, Wittgenstein’s Mistress is wonderful company: captivating, playful, intellectually rich, and unexpectedly moving.

Naming and Necessity had a profound impact on my understanding of the importance of using proper names in programming (for functions, variables, etc.). I was fascinated by Kripke’s exploration of the usage of names in our day-to-day language. His arguments challenged my thinking and introduced me to new ways of considering reference and meaning.

The clarity and rigor of his analysis pushed me to refine my reasoning skills. Despite being a challenging read, I found it incredibly rewarding.

Mary Midgley was in her nineties when she wrote this book, yet it’s alive with ideas and energy – and the insistence that philosophy should be “for” something in the most urgent, practical sense; that it should help us explore such questions as to how to live and to do good. Midgley was both highly scientifically literate and fiercely opposed to the claim that science will ever answer every question. We humans, she believed, are brilliant animals who need to understand our biological heritage as richly as possible if we’re to grapple fruitfully with our planetary future. I can think of few more urgent themes for the present century.

Dante Alighieri’s Inferno, by many accounts, is the most accurate and true portrayal of Hell. It has been long speculated whether or not Dante, by means of dreaming or some other metaphysical affair, was truly able to visit Hell—the ways in which he describes the deadly sins of human life proves to be both very emotional and very comprehendible, in a way that can push one to both care more for the way that they choose to live, care more for the ways that they treat others, as well as understand the burdens of life and thus realize that it could, in some way, be worse off than it presently seems. 

I picked up this book because the back cover made it sound like this funny romp where a rock competition decides the fate of the Earth—and who doesn’t want that? But this isn’t just a more uplifting version of that one Rick and Morty episode about “Gettin’ Schwifty.”

With vivid worlds and deeply flawed characters, Space Opera is like a psychedelic trip with that brilliant, probably-drunk friend whose gorgeous mind you could listen to for days. (Stop looking at me like that! I’m not in love with her syntax, you are!)

Don’t get me wrong: there are so many behaviors in Space Opera that I recommend against as a sexual health physician—they’d increase your risk of disease and mental illness—and I’ve got moral positions that don’t jive with Valente’s vision, either. But there’s a scene where Valente touches on immigration and deportation that made me weep and left an indent… show more.