Books like How the Wise Master Life — picked by fans

This book is like a forbidden fruit, tempting and dangerous. But it came to my rescue when I’d lost sight of my own dreams for a little while. Sure, Ayn Rand’s philosophy has many simplistic flaws, but in this novel, she channels a Nietzschean spirit that jolts you awake. It was a call to never forget to embrace my ambition and to continue to forge my own writing path even when readers seem indifferent.

In a world full of compromises, there’s power in refusing to settle for less than your own extraordinary potential.

This book isn’t just ink and paper; it’s a lifeline. I’ve witnessed its power to pull someone back from the edge.

For me, as a teenager, it was an awakening. Zarathustra’s spirit resonated with my own zest for life, a stark contrast to the negativity that often surrounds us. It ignited a spark within me, an echo of the boundless creativity I felt as a child, eager to shape new worlds. A reminder that within each of us lies the potential for greatness, waiting to be unleashed.

In a world obsessed with schedules and statistics, I found myself drawn to this whimsical tale about a man who rolls a dice to make life's big decisions. It mirrored my own youthful spirit–a time when I lived very spontaneously, even writing novels as experiments in happenstance. It was a time of unexpected adventures, an antidote to dull routines.

Nowadays, over-planning and seriousness sometimes creep in. But thankfully, I have my children to remind me of the simple, healing joy of play–life doesn’t always have to be so meticulously planned.

I think, therefore, I am.

Descartes’ ability to reject dogma and academic jargon, focusing instead on his own thought process to find truth, amazed me. As a writer, this is crucial: avoid parroting others and find your unique voice and personal worldview. At the same time, Descartes’ radical doubt felt risky. I don’t want to become overly critical of reality.

I see his work as a guide to intellectual empathy. It’s a way to understand ourselves and others through our shared human need for meaning.

I set out very determined to despise this first book of Knausgard’s series. Knausgard’s life is no more fascinating than anyone’s. This is not necessarily his life but some reasonable facsimile that dips in and out of reverie, philosophy, and the hardcore reality of cleaning up after an alcoholic parent dies. Hoarding, self-loathing, and Nordic landscape are all features. I mean, what is NOT to love about that?

My lust for this book is not so much what it is about, though, as how it does this thing of drawing me along in its unadorned vocabulary to wholesale belief in everything that is put down. It is a supreme hoax that I am grateful to have encountered. 

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It’s set in Sweden and takes the reader to Latvia during the disintegration of the Soviet Union, so it touches on another genre that I like to dip into—spy novels. The hero is Kurt Wallander, a sympathetic character, who’s just trying to do his job which, in this case, means dealing with the bodies of two torture victims that have been discovered on the Swedish Coast. Now read on …

Are ex-CIA agents all living in isolation taunted by their deeds? We may never know, they may have to kill us if we do. Dan Hendricks, the main character is torn between justice and protecting agents he knew in the frosty cold of Sweden.

It was a page-turner for me. I enjoy stories set in faraway places where the rules aren’t always the same. Having been to Sweden in winter I am familiar with the sting of the biting breezes. Brrr.

The first book I read by the Swedish master of suspense.

There's nothing like being caught by a good book: Just one more chapter, even though it's the middle of the night and work starts in three hours.

Almost like getting kidnapped with a small but significant difference: you don't want to be released.

Without Mankell, there would be no Millennium series, and this book is one of the reasons I started to write in the same genre. It's a long but, at the same time, quick read.

The characters are portrayed as real human beings with multiple flaws and shortcomings. I don't want to reveal the plot here, but I promise you: this murder case is like nothing else.

It was Nordic Noir before the genre got its name.

If you’re curious about the woman who collected the Sami folktales, you’ll want to read Emilie Demant Hatt’s story of living in a tent with a Sami family in a community in Northern Sweden. You’ll be fascinated by her grueling journey with a group of Sami herders and their hundreds of reindeer over the icy mountains in the spring of 1908 to find summer pastures on the Norwegian coast. I’ve long loved the adventure, humor, and visual feast in this book, first published in 1913, and was eager to translate it and share it with readers curious about the high north of Scandinavia. Demant Hatt was a brilliant observer and an early immersive journalist who didn’t shy away from hard work, rough conditions, and learning the Sami language. 

I had hoped to avoid authors with a prodigious output in this listing, but those author’s characters cannot be missed—Mankell’s Wallander actually carries this novel. The thing that struck me first was how textured the character of Wallander is, and how Mankell fully employs every bit of his backstory. Of course, as before, the cliché of the flawed lead: divorced, few friends, moody, a fondness for drink, and obsessive behaviour, is one which would (too easily) fit Wallander, but not in Mankell’s hands. He takes all these traits and gives the reader an understanding of his lead. On top of that, Mankell uses Wallander for his own observations on Swedish society! For writers Wallander is a study; for readers a joy.