Books like Killer, Come Back To Me — picked by fans

It seemed to take me forever to read The Magus, much longer than it took me to read other books by Fowles, even though it's a more exciting novel than any other he wrote. For most of the book's length I felt that the writing was excellent, the story was very good, but the tone of the narrator, Nicholas Urfe, had dated badly. I found the long extracts when Conchis was talking about his past to be vastly more engaging than anything Nicholas had to say. But Nicholas grew more tolerable in the last third of the novel, especially when the action speeded up and he was put on trial by Conchis and his cohorts. The cascading deceptions became stupendous at that juncture, one deceit after another, what we thought we knew flipped suddenly into something new, and so on. Nothing was certain anymore, it is really quite disorienting stuff,… show more.

One of the best novels I have ever read. This doesn't mean it was enticing all the way through, but it was always compelling. In other words, it wasn't the beauty that kept me going but the rhythmic insistence. It is a novel of two equal halves. It's the second half that elevates the book for me. The first part consists of the memoirs of the title character, Molloy, and his abortive journey from a town to the sea in search of his mother. The second half consists of the search by a private investigator, Jacques Moran, for Molloy. He is given his instructions by a fellow employee of a shadowy organisation. His task seems meaningless and from the very beginning it proves to be unfeasible, but in the attempt Moran finds Molloy, in a sense, by changing into a new and more bitter edition of him. What astounds me… show more.

This book tells a strong story about censorship and has perhaps a "light" dystopian feel.

I liked this book because Bradbury’s characters are well drawn and, like Orwell, he creates a strong story. It reminded me of past events in the 30’s. A fireman, following orders to confiscate and destroy books because the authority does not want people to develop constructive thinking. Gradually turning against his boss, the fireman kills his boss and joins a group of people who memorise books and store content for the future.

I found this a thought-provoking story and hope that, considering the censorship laws we have today at home and in countries like Russia and Iran, this is one story that does not come true.

I love this book for its poetic, dreamlike quality. Bradbury’s writing pulled me in and didn’t let go, painting a picture of Mars that was both beautiful and tragic. As a pre-teen and a teen, in my imagination, I had red dust stuck to my feet, and I was there with the characters. What captivated me was the way the stories felt timeless—each one was like a snapshot of a moment layered with meaning.

I felt like I wasn’t just reading a book about colonizing Mars; I was exploring humanity’s deepest fears, hopes, and regrets. We have companies only today working on getting to Mars, I feel so upset that I know I will likely never set foot on those dusty red shores, but I am thrilled to know it may still happen for others.

Bradbury’s work made me think about the consequences of exploration—how, in our quest to conquer… show more.

Bradbury’s writing is vividly descriptive, he makes you see things as you read (in my case I listened). His set up of good vs. evil was masterful. The evil described is the sort that sends shivers down your spine but isn’t overly-descriptive nor revels in any gore. Ultimately good triumphs, but not without pain and hard lessons learned along the way.

Propaganda is truth; truth is propaganda. We live in an Orwellian world, the world of “alternative narratives” – blatant untruths that are like a twisted mantra tormenting objectivity until it is beaten into submission.

When I first read 1984, I knew Orwell was not predicting the future but describing the past and the betrayal of a socialist revolution by Stalin. But the hideous truth is that Orwell’s depiction of the "evil Soviet empire" is now the new reality, east and west, where tyranny and authoritarianism distort reality to the point where people feel powerless to oppose.

Resist, and the system will get you. Accept, and you will live a life of a deluded soulless husk. You choose!

A mix of coming of age in the first half of the twentieth century, and Bradbury’s peculiar brand of very earthly oddness and sci-fi strangeness, Dandelion Wine is full of all sorts of magic. It reminds you of what it is to be a small human again, when everything seems possible, and aliens and monsters are as likely (and as important) as long summer days spent outside, barefoot and sunburnt and a little feral. Even when we don’t recognise the details of the childhood described, we remember the feeling, and it reawakens a sense of wonder that’s incredibly precious.

For me, this book stimulates analysis of the relationship between technology and human flourishing, as well as the state’s role in using technology to promote the public good.

I first read Brave New World because it was assigned in a high school English class. I later asked students to read it when I was teaching biomedical ethics at a university.

Whereas Dr. Frankenstein’s creation is the single product of a “mad genius” in an otherwise “normal” world, the brave new world is an entire civilization transformed by technology. Because of this vision of a civilization dominated by technology and a totalitarian government, I recently returned to Brave New World.

The novel provoked me to consider the reasons we even develop new technologies—what do and should they provide us?  

I‘ve always been fascinated by the dividing line between human and monster. Because, what is a monster?

I know, this kind of question will usually get a quick answer, but I have been thinking about this particular question for quite some time now. I am Legend revolves around this question, and I love it for that. I also love it for the somewhat unexpected twist in the end, and that one can be interpreted as an answer.

Anyway, for me, this book got me thinking about morale and ethics and other stuff. I just like it when a book gets me to that point where I think: wait a moment, but what if…?

This book is prophecy, power, and paranoia wrapped in a sandstorm.

It was the first book that showed me how deeply philosophy and politics could be embedded in a fantastical world. It taught me that “epic” doesn’t mean loud—it means legacy. I still marvel at Herbert’s precision—his control of tone, symbolism, and tension.

It’s the rare kind of book that makes you feel like you’re trespassing into something sacred and dangerous. Every time I return to it, I leave with something new—and a little unsettled.