100 Books Like Literature or Life

At the time of writing, this is the last book I read, in the couple of weeks before the 80th anniversary of VE Day. Powerful is the only way to describe it.

I think it’s the ordinariness of the characters, particularly the main protagonists, that makes it so powerful. None of them had any training or expertise that would have helped them to ‘fight’ back, to resist; they are just ordinary people doing extraordinary things, which is what happened during the Second World War, particularly in occupied France.

It’s a reminder that we should never forget our history—even when it isn’t very palatable—and hope that one day we might start to learn from it.

Almost impossible to put down—this was the first book that made me physically feel the words.

I wouldn’t call it enjoyable in the usual sense; the experience was excruciating. But that’s exactly what makes it unforgettable. Hillenbrand’s prose, paired with the true story of Louis Zamperini’s plunge from Olympic track star to the unrelenting hell of a POW camp, smacks you off your cozy little couch and right into a world where Sleepytime tea, candles, and Netflix don’t exist.

What struck me most was how it captured not only the brutality of survival, but the stubborn, almost irrational resolve of the human spirit—and the possibility of forgiveness that would defy logic. This isn’t a book that’s light to hold—it’s grit, torment, and triumph in equal parts. I recommend it because it inspires without sugarcoating—harrowing and uplifting in the same breath.

For anyone who wants proof of just how deep the… show more.

This was probably one of the most intense experiences with non-linear storytelling I ever had, and that did something to me I could not have predicted.

In fact, while reading this book, I started to turn the story into something of a philosophical discourse in my head. 

I really like how this book is at the same time utterly insane in parts—and I do say that with the greatest respect, it‘s the good kind of insane—while at the same time, it explores themes of dealing with earth-shattering events on a very individual level.

For me, the icing on the cake is that Kurt Vonnegut manages to even mix in a little history lesson there, because that bombing of the prisoners in Dresden? That did happen. And I didn‘t even learn about it in school—I learned it from this novel!

An indelible scene: Several Auschwitz prisoners clear rubble from a dark, bombed-out basement. It’s a blisteringly hot August 1944. There is no drinkable water, none. While “hunger exhausts, thirst enrages.” Primo Levi spots a section of broken pipe against a far wall with a spigot near the floor. It holds perhaps a quart of water. He can easily drink it all himself. Or should he share with his best mate? Or with the entire work crew? (Read the book to find out.)

No one writes of the dilemmas of survival more cogently than Primo Levi. A chemist by training, Levi melds a scientist’s precision with spare, insightful writing to show how the prisoner pecking order in Auschwitz meant the difference between death and survival, between the drowned and the saved. 

I like this book because it shows in an exciting and engaging way, that a war is not over, just because it is declared to be over. For many survivors, such as Ruth Mendenberg, it is the beginning of a new war in which they fight to re-establish their identity and their right to a place to call home once again.

During August 1944, Joe Mower’s P-38 was shot down, and Nazi forces sent him to Buchenwald—the infamous work camp where tens of thousands died of cruelty, medical experiments, and starvation. It’s a story of survival in the worst of situations.

Block 46 features themes that are close to my heart, along with two strong, determined female leads and a thought-provoking plot.

A true-crime writer and criminal profiler join forces to investigate two murders that may be linked to Buchenwald concentration camp – an example of journalists not always investigating on their own.

I don’t usually read Holocaust fiction (only the true survivor stories), but Johana Gustawson has taken one of the darkest times in human history and woven it seamlessly and sensitively into a contemporary serial-killer crime novel.

Block 46 is well-researched, very dark, and very twisty, featuring a strong mix of past and present, and the descriptions of the concentration camp are harrowing and realistically portrayed.

I loved how this book is a memoir and research into trauma that affects people their whole lives. Through conversations and interviews, Rosner tells the story of the holocaust and its psychological effect on those who survived and those whose relatives perpetrated or witnessed the horrors.

I like that she looks into PTSD that many suffer from and how she states that horrors or abuse have to be acknowledged to be healed. 

First published in 1952, this remains an epic tale of an SOE secret agent in France – Squadron Leader Forest Frederick Edward Yeo-Thomas. Yeo-Thomas had worked in France before the war and spoke fluent French. When World War Two broke out, he joined the RAF and was later recruited by SOE. He parachuted a number of times into France to help establish the resistance there and was eventually captured, imprisoned, and brutally tortured. Miraculously, he escaped from Buchenwald Concentration Camp and found his way back into Allied hands. He survived the war.

Multi-layered portrayals, and an absorbing, beautifully penned story shine through Sharon Maas’s The Soldier’s Girl, a novel at once heartbreaking and inspiring.

The protagonist, Sibyl Lake, works as a spy for the French Resistance in the Nazi-annexed region of Alsace. Two men vie for her affection: Jacques, her childhood sweetheart, now a Resistance fighter, and Wolfgang, a German officer and the target of her espionage mission.

Sibyl’s courage, identity, and very soul are forced to the brink as she fights for her beloved land, clutched in Germany’s oppressive control. Maas’s unforgettable characters reveal their humanity – through love and loss – and will abide in the reader’s heart long after the final page.