100 Books Like How to Be a Victorian

This was the book that started my fascination with the Victorian era. From the first time the character of Sherlock Holmes was introduced, I was hooked. I first read it when I was nine. I remember sitting down with it and practically devouring it. I did not put it down until I had finished. I was enchanted by Sherlock Holmes and his mind. I still am.

I really loved the way this book told the story of London across the Victorian era. I often call London my spiritual home, and books about the city always capture my attention. Each chapter covers a separate topic, such as the Middle Class, Buildings, Amusements, etc., with interesting stories for each one.

I love the book as it is the sort I can pick up if I only have a few minutes to read.

I loved the main character of this book from the very first: Sgt Cribb of Scotland Yard. I came across this book through a television adaptation. I watched, then went scouring the shelves of my local library, finding, to my delight, that the book was the first in a series.

This was the first Cribb novel, and I found it charming, with a great mystery at its core. I love the fact that the background is a little-known Victorian sport: pedestrianism or endurance walking.

The author’s unusual lens made this a captivating history. Murphy examines Victoria’s reign through the multiple attempts on the queen’s life. While the title isn’t entirely accurate (one would-be assassin used a walking stick rather than a gun), Murphy makes a persuasive case for the monarchy’s “rebirth.”

Defying death helped the queen survive some rough patches in her reign. Through eight attempts to kill her, the queen modeled “keep calm and carry on” in the best British tradition, and the public adored her pluck. After the final gunman failed to murder the queen, the aging Victoria said, “It is worth being shot at to see how much one is loved.”

This superb biography is an engrossing account of the mysterious title surgeon and the doctor’s fascinating world. James Miranda Barry joined the British Army in 1813 as a regimental surgeon and served in colonial posts for the next fifty years. But Barry had been born Margaret Bulkley, an anatomical female—a surprise revealed after the doctor’s death.

Was Barry’s masquerade strategic, the doctor’s only route to a medical career? Was Barry a transgender person? I wondered if the “truth” would remain a mystery. Rachel Holmes persuaded me that the probable answer lies in a document “gathering dust” in Edinburgh’s medical school archives, a revelation she saves for the last chapter. 

This delightful book erases the stiff, sepia portraits of a bygone age, painting the Victorian world in living color. It shreds the era’s image as fun-challenged. The Victorians knew how to have a rollicking good time, inventing popular entertainment on a commercial scale.

In two generations, theatrical performances, professional sporting events, and seaside holidays were accessible to the masses. Jackson traces the social and economic transformations that made it possible.

I love a book that upends my assumptions. Valerie Steele applies science and common sense to “history’s most controversial garment.” In her hands, long-standing Victorian myths unravel. Gone are fainting, wasp-waisted women whose corsets cut their livers in two and fairy tales about the cosmetic removal of ribs to produce a trimmer waistline.

The book is a visual delight, richly illustrated with period advertisements and humorous, anti-corset cartoons from popular journals. Steele traces the garment’s history across the centuries and explores what finally killed the “lethal” corset; it wasn’t its deadly health effects. 

I don’t just love this book; I adore it. I have read it so many times that I have worn out two paperback copies and need to acquire a new copy. I found this such a fun book. It inverts the Sherlock Holmes world, with the “hero” being Professor Moriarty, and the narrator being his henchman Colonel Sebastian Moran.

I laugh every time I read it, especially because of its Sherlockian humor and the appearances of characters from other books of the period.  

This is it. The original Victorian expose. I love the way Lytton Strachey takes his parents’ generation and pokes fun at their heroes. This is the first attempt to burst the Victorians’ bubble, and I think it’s brilliant. More than that, I don’t really think you can understand anything that’s been written about them since without starting here.

Strachey picks on four Victorian greats – Florence Nightingale included – and strips them naked. Not so great after all, he concludes. It’s the original tell-all biography.

Laetitia Rodd is the kind of detective I wish we saw more often—an older woman whose intelligence and social skills make her a force to be reckoned with. I was completely charmed by her quiet determination and ability to navigate the constraints of 19th-century England while solving a deeply intriguing mystery.

This book made me feel like I was stepping into a world of candlelit corridors and whispered secrets, and I loved every moment of it.