Books like Hogfather — picked by fans

How often have I heard, “Oh, Q. W. Aardvark’s fantasy is awesome, but you really need to read all 8,326 books in the series to get it”! How about no? Fortunately, I learned the secret of Pratchett’s Discworld series: each novel is freestanding.

I like this book because it’s like a cynical, bitter uncle who secretly has a teddy bear—despite the outward grime and gloom of the setting, there’s a hilarious wit, punning, and barrage of pop references underlying the story that gives it a heart. It’s fantasy for those who don’t think they like it.

From the moment I first read a Discworld novel, I was hooked by the unique and whimsical twist, given by Terry Pratchett, to the situations his characters find themselves in. His clever use of humor allows him to entertain his readers while making complex financial concepts accessible to readers of all backgrounds. This use of humor and the underlying message that finance is as much about human nature as it is about numbers underpins my teaching and writing.

He highlights the quirks and motivations of bankers and entrepreneurs which I recognised from my time in the industry. But importantly he highlights the personal transformation and ethical dilemmas a quest for wealth can bring. For me, this resulted in really considering the true meaning of success.

That said he doesn’t shy away from addressing economic disparities. But overall, when I read this I was given a chance to view the finance… show more.

This is the second book in the Guards sequence, but it’s easy enough to start here. This detective story set in the sprawling, smelly metropolis of Ankh-Morpork, featuring dwarves, werewolves, and (occasionally) humans, is a laugh-out-loud and anarchic book, managing to be hugely joyous and page-turningly compelling at the same time. Insanely silly and utterly real, with characters so solid you can see (or in some cases, smell) them long after you turn the last page.

I laughed out loud and had moments of deep philosophical reflection, normally at the same time, with this book. I loved the clever and deep meanings and parodies of faith and the divine. I think that this book taught me to always take things with a pinch of salt, and I started thinking critically because of it.

I could not stop reading it and devoured the other books in the series and I think this is one of my favourite authors. I am inspired to emulate some aspects of the author’s thinking and this book is why. 

No one has taught me more about life than Terry Pratchett. No one has taught me how to wrestle with my demons (both literal and metaphorical) or how to be a better person no matter what fate befalls me. Humanists don’t need a bible, but if they did, the collected works of Terry Pratchett would be that book.

More than just fantasy, humor, or satire, his words work at a profound and subtle level. All of his books are favorites of mine, but this one is my most favorite of all. It’s a book about witches and magic and fairy tales. It’s also a story that contains stories within stories, but most of all, it’s a book about knowing who you are.

I love Pratchett’s work so much in general that it’s really hard to pick just one. His work was side-splittingly funny but also the very best kind of satire. He had pointed things to say about society while also making you care deeply about his characters and making you laugh until your face hurts. Do you know how hard that is?

In this book, the protagonist is a con man forced into trying to resuscitate a dying postal service. He’s petty evil, the kind of selfish who has never thought about what happens to his victims. By the end, you can’t help but root for him to triumph over the much less petty but equally hidden evil of systems and big money. But you also can’t look away from the chaos of ravening stamp collectors, hapless wizards, and a literal avalanche of dead letters.

I recommend this book because it reminded me how deeply animals weave themselves into the quiet corners of our lives.

The story follows one soul through many lifetimes, and I loved how it captured loyalty, loss, and the small sacred moments that shape us. It’s perfect for readers who believe that love often arrives in humble forms and that companionship can change the direction of a life.

It fits my theme because it shows how meaning is often found in the fringes, in the overlooked places where devotion quietly lives. And it connects to my own writing because both honor the sacred weight carried inside ordinary lives.

Nothing tickles my funny bone more than the antics of a pampered princess who has to work like the rest of us if she wants to eat when the family fortune dries up. Pepper Martin takes the only job available as a cemetery tour guide–who knew such a creepy job existed?

After hitting her noggin on a gravestone, suddenly she sees dead people. I laughed out loud when a whacked Mafia Don “makes her an offer she can’t refuse” and threatens to haunt her until she hunts down his killers. If you’re like me and the image of Lucy Ricardo on the hunt for a mobster’s killer gets you giggling, this is the story for you. 

Sebastian Dangerfield, a scruffy Yank studying at Trinity College Dublin under the GI Bill, loses his wife, finds a lover, and talks to himself–“In my heart where no one else can hear me.”

The book was banned for decades after publication in the 1950s, not so much for indecency (though there is that) as for sheer insolence. The Irish writer Sean O’Reilly asks: “Is there, even after all this time, something risky, illicit perhaps, about Sebastian Dangerfield whispering in your ear while your heart is bursting with laughter?"

Another 1950s anti-hero in the same gang as Holden Caulfield and Jake Donaghue. Another bad example for my guidance.

It is laugh-out-loud funny in places, but the humor also sees the pettiness, pride, and obstinance that can affect human behavior.

Pearson’s narrator is cloaked in childhood innocence that makes his incisive observations not cruel, but simply honest. After I first read this book many years ago, I decided that I would never again make my readers feel wretched nor would I cheat them. Like Pearson, I will, however, trick them.