82 Books Like Legends of the Fall

Everybody knows Ahab, but do you know Bartleby? It’s a strange story about a strange man, which, of course, attracts me. Bartleby is a lawyer’s copyist who decides he doesn’t want to do this sort of writing anymore and meets every instruction with the words: I would prefer not to. You can read Bartleby as simply a humorous tale. Or you can read it as a story of the existential crisis most writers, myself included, face at one time or the other. Melville was feeling dissatisfied with his choice of a writing career—the critics were unfriendly—and, in my opinion, the title character reflects this. It’s also, in my view, an implicit critique of economic control in America—my SDS youth would approve! It’s not for nothing that the story’s final words are: “Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity!”

If you need inspiration to write strange stories, then read the Brazilian Machado de Assis. In his photos he looks like a prim and proper gentleman, giving no hint he wrote some of the whackiest fiction you’ll ever encounter—for example, one story is told from the perspective of a needle. The Alienist is a favorite. Bacamarte, a man devoted to science, opens an insane asylum in the town of Itaguaí, taking in the mentally ill. But his scientific mind leads him to the inevitable conclusion that he must also include healthy people who, according to his diagnosis, are about to go crazy. Soon, his asylum, Casa Verdi, accommodates the entire town. Then, in the ending of the story… Well, you’ll have to read it yourself to find out. 

Many years ago, a writer friend recommended Mrs. Caliban to me, without hinting about the plot or characters. “Just try it,” she said. “It’s so you.” She knew me well! I fell hard in love with this book that seemed like a wacky, comic, poetic collage of suburban reality, romance, and sci-fi thriller, with even a bit of horror thrown in.

The genius of Rachel Ingalls sneaks up on you until you’re totally verklempt over protagonist Dorothy’s fearless befriending of “Aquarius the Monsterman,” or, as she called him, “Larry.” A classic novella, and the perfect book for those moments you need to be mercifully transported from everyday life.

I find the very word “novella” delicious. Edith Wharton is one of my favorite writers, and this book is near the top of my deliciousness list. How can you resist a book with a killer first line like this: “I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story.”

The setting is so important here, too: a bitter Massachusetts winter that reflects the tale’s somber mood. Unlike the characters in Wharton’s The Age of Innocence, the characters here are not of the upper class, but in both books the characters share the internal crisis of whether to honor the moral constraints of their times or follow their aching hearts.

I read the novel when I saw that Jane Campion had chosen to adapt the book for her latest film. I have nerves of cast iron. But I found this book truly terrifying. The subject is human evil – the sadistic, twisted cruelty of which men are capable, both to animals, and other human beings. The descriptive writing is extraordinary: the ranch, the mountains, and the wild lands of Montana appear before your eyes. The family is almost destroyed by the predatory, violent brother Phil. He is like a Shakespearean villain: magnetic, charismatic, spellbinding, brilliant, and vicious.

Campion softens the edges of the story at every step in her wonderful film. And I can understand why. Had she filmed the book the movie would be banned. Read the book. 

Several things drew me to Megiddo's Shadow: 1.) It is based on author Arthur Slade’s research of his grandfather’s experience as a teenager—age 16—in the Canadian-British calvary. 2.) It takes place in 1917 during World War I. 3.) Much of the action takes place in the Middle East. Even though this story does take place on the battlefield at times, the primary story is not about military campaigns. Rather, it’s about a young man who begins his journey as a patriot with visions of grandeur, yet has his ideals of heroism and courage turned upside after his experiences in war.

This was recommended to me by a friend who knew I was writing a sci-fi story that takes place in South Louisiana, where my story is set. Gautreaux’s story is enjoyable, but it is the vivid descriptions of the logging camp and its surroundings that held my attention: the thick, almost suffocating damp air, the smells of decay, and the dark mocha of mud puddles that never seem to dry up.

Though my own story isn’t set specifically in a swamp, this gave me the punch I needed to describe the Louisiana town where my story is set.   

I got this book in a subscription book box and was immediately intrigued by the premise. The town of Bone Gap is full of “gaps,” openings to other realities that someone can slip into and disappear. This story is not your usual read. The writer creatively mixes mystery, magic, love, loss, regret, forgiveness, and overcoming. 

The story follows Finn, a teenage boy, who tries to discover why his brother’s girlfriend disappeared, and the girlfriend, who is made a prisoner because she’s beautiful. 

The book made me think about a lot of things: that there is a difference between looking at and seeing someone else; that past trauma may not show on your face, but it’s part of you; that things seem more beautiful when you leave them behind; and that everyone has their reasons to see things differently. This book is character-focused, weird, entertaining, and very cathartic. 

Looking for a touch of fiction with your finance: The Millionaires is not only fun, it’s a great look at how easy (and tempting) it can be when working in finance to cross the line and act for personal gain.

As someone who has worked in the finance industry for decades, I’ve become all too accustomed to moving millions, sometimes tens of millions with the touch of a button. What happens when an average guy has that authority? What if that average guy is actually innocent?

Read The Millionaires for an entertaining look at the possibilities.

I often feel like fiction "does" loneliness far better than nonfiction. This is because loneliness is so abstract and messy and the way that it is "lived" is often depicted more realistically in fiction.

I loved Michel Houllebecq’s novel because it’s a painfully beautiful portrayal of the ways that loneliness manifests in modern lives. The characters are achingly lonely in so many ways, and you can see yourself refracted in them as a contemporary human being.