Books like Expositional Modes and Temporal Ordering in Fiction — picked by fans

I first read Lolita when I was 14 and have read it every few decades since, learning something new each time.

I love the first-person immediacy of it and the way it is a crime novel in reverse: the narrator is already imprisoned but not for the crime he describes. It is a love story turned on its head: what the narrator says is love is in fact abuse.

It is a road trip across the vastness of the US, like one I took when I was a student.

I don’t think Garcia Marquez needs a review or introduction. Reading any of his books is a pleasure, with easy and delightful writing and striking sentences.

These sentences often describe things or people in a way that feels natural and perfectly captured. For instance, he describes the world as so new that many things lack names. His eloquent descriptions, like that of ice, create vivid images. The characters are relatable, and you feel a happy exhaustion after finishing the book, reminiscent of great works like Steinbeck’s East of Eden.

Those who find the stories too unbelievable should learn about Colombian history, as they provide real context. I simply love the book!

I love the experimental and absurd sensibility of this novel. In an age known for its groundbreaking fiction, this work stands out for its playfulness and complexity. Like Swift, Sterne was a clergyman of the Church of England, and I love how intelligent and sophisticated he is about dirty jokes and silly scenarios.

I also appreciate Sterne’s commitment to pushing the envelope: Sterne inserts all sorts of oddities, from marble pages to graphical representations of the book’s winding narrative. The book obsesses over the minutiae and small details of everyday life even as it considers weighty issues and tragic events.

Predicting both Freud and postmodernism, I love how this work feels both ultra-modern and very much of its time. 

In this novel, time becomes almost a character. It is an empty time, although so heavy and thick, to fill in all the space around the protagonist Dino and to enter into him.

Art and sex, the only Dino’s activities, are not characterized by their distinctive passion and enthusiasm that sometimes destroy and sometimes raise a man. Art and sex become a dead pastime dominated by time alone.      

I was a young mom when I first read this book, and abortion, death with dignity, and orphaned children weren’t exactly topics I was seeking out. But Irving pulled me in with a story so human, so layered, I couldn’t look away.

What struck me most was how these enormous ethical conflicts—ones that still ignite fierce debate—were explored through a quiet, powerful relationship between a boy and his mentor. Watching that relationship evolve helped me understand that ethics aren’t fixed; they shift with time, context, and lived experience.

This book made me sit with discomfort, question certainty, and lean into compassion. And that’s why I still think about it.

In this book, you meet a rare person–a female heroine from the Tudor Times. Based on a true story about a woman aboard the Golden Hind, you are taken into the dark world of medieval ships and meet Maria.

As the book unfolded, I was moved to tears by her courage, strength, and ability to navigate a terrible world. I was inspired by her. 

I once asked Agnes Nixon, the creator of All My Children and other legendary daytime serials, how she became so good at plotting them. She replied, “I am a very good eavesdropper.”

I suspect O’Hara was, too. His 1959 epic (900 pages!) about a social-climbing, status-mad banker and the fashionable coterie of vipers he navigates to attain success at any cost is dipped in old-money style and privilege masking an ever-rotting core.

It’s packed with the one thing any great beach read needs: people keeping secrets who will do anything to protect them.    

I’ve long been fascinated by the mysteries of the Anasazi, or the Pueblo Dwellers of southwestern Utah. How and why did a thriving culture of literally thousands of people who had built stone buildings into cliff faces suddenly and inexplicably disappear? Having read numerous books by archaeologists on the subject, I was really no closer to an answer. But when Preston and Child wrote a novel, a combination of adventure, tech thriller, and mythology, I was completely on board.

Archaeologist Nora Kelly’s father disappeared without a trace 16 years earlier in the remote desert, searching for the legendary Quivira, a city of gold and wonder, the lost city of the Anasazi Indians. Pulling together a team, using some NASA satellite research to find a starting place, Nora leads a team into the desolate canyonlands in search of the city—only to find extraordinary mythology, life-threatening natural events, and a deadly, dangerous… show more.

I felt every single emotion reading this book and felt as if I’d lived all the decades with Jen and Nick, who met as teenagers and soon became friends.

I love Sarra’s writing style, and I was fully invested in Jen and Nick from the very beginning, and found their complicated, messy relationship, which follows the most winding path, completely believable.

There was so much in this book that was unexpected, and by the end, I was a sobbing puddle of feelings. I know Jen and Nick will always stay with me, and I’m already looking forward to reading it again. 

This is a brilliantly plotted book with a fascinating protagonist.

It’s fair to say that Cam Killick has issues stemming from his time in the Marines. He starts looking into a decades-old case of a family who went missing on the way back from a party. It was widely accepted that their car had probably crashed into the marshes and had lain there for thirty years. But when Cam finds the car, the remains of the family are nowhere to be found.