Books like Molloy — picked by fans

The Scottish author Muriel Spark’s specialty was short, mordant, corrosive novels, the best known being, of course, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. This one, published in 1970, was among her most striking.

A repressed woman’s vacation during the free-loving sixties turns out to be a date with death she may have initiated: the question lingers after you finish.

It became a flawed yet fascinating 1974 film with Elizabeth Taylor at her most—literally and figuratively—exposed.

This book is an obvious choice perhaps, but one that can't be omitted. The tragicomic frustration of the surveyor who can't complete the job he's been sent to do no matter how hard he tries is massively influential for a number of very good reasons. Also, the way that the castle is both a literal place and a potent metaphor is crucial—as ever in Kafka, it's never just a metaphor, just as it's never just a dream, but rather a dream or a metaphor that also develops out of and into a very concrete situation. This is crucial writing advice for anyone interested in working with dreamlike or surreal elements.

The novel is a portrait of the harsh realities of post-colonial life and a reflection on the complexities of African culture and history. I find that I can relate to the book's exploration of identity and the struggle between tradition and modernity.

Okri's protagonist, Azaro, navigates the physical and spiritual realms in a way that lines up with the Nigerian superstitions which shaped my life from a young age. His journey is believable and familiar in a unique blend of the fantastical with the real.

The lyrical prose and vivid imagery take me home, back to a world where the supernatural is a natural part of life and a cornerstone of the spirituality inherent in Nigerian culture.

Nietzsche’s greatest admirers often distort his views. Mishima is no exception. Considering his nationalism, militarism, and ritualistic suicide, it’s little surprise he endorses the popular misconception of Nietzsche as a champion of egoism and power. 

In this fascinating, disturbing story, adolescent boys create a club devoted to an amoral, pseudo-Nietzschean ideal. When they encounter a mysterious sailor, they worship him as a living embodiment of their values until he defies the image they’ve created. 

Mishima misinterprets Nietzsche but in a critically illuminating way. The boys’ ultimate reaction to their disappointing demi-god proves their hypocrisy, revealing that they idolize precisely the qualities they lack. So Mishima inadvertently debunks the stereotypical image of the “overman,” a cartoonishly impossible superhero, a fantasy who attracts only his polar opposites: the insecure, resentful, conformist, and childish.

Travelling in India is never easy or predictable and it is a great test for ones resilience and sense of calm.

I read Slowly Down the Ganges before making my first trip to the north of India and I found it to be a great source of information and wisdom.

Newby travels with such a positive outlook open to all happenings and eventualities.

He set himself a difficult talk in sailing the Ganges but he shares beautiful and fascinating descriptions of the landscapes and villages. Newby talks with great respect about the sacred importance of the River Ganges and tells us all her 108 names.

The book makes you realize that travelling in India will be difficult but ultimately so rewarding.

Well-known American author Jack London experienced a genuine decline into vagrancy in the US during the late nineteenth century.

In his 1907 memoir, he depicts the realities of the vagrant’s life without flinching. The detailed descriptions of begging for sustenance from strangers’ homes, risking death to evade detection on fright trains, and the life of inmates in the state penitentiary are as gripping as they are appalling.

The only US book in this collection of recommendations, The Road confirms very similar experiences and challenges facing the homeless on both sides of the Atlantic.

They hit you like a brick in the forehead: solid poems that look like letters from an exile. Both personal and strange, these poems capture the feeling of the wanderer where “it isn’t a mirror anymore but a window.” That’s what I want as I go: shots of wake-up words. Something to charge the eyes for the spectacles on the way.

All aspiring hikertrash have to start somewhere and Derick relates this journey with great honesty and humor. I started my vagabond life on the Appalachian Trail a decade before Derick did, but I found myself laughing in commiseration with his escapades as he learned what it means to walk across the country. Unlikely captures not only the highlights of hikertrash life, but also the lows, the drudgery, and the beautiful camaraderie that forms between people on journeys. Whether you hike or wander a different path, these themes connect for us all.

In the mid-1980s, Patricia Churchland started to pursue the idea that philosophers interested in the mind might want to have a look at what is going on in neuroscience, in her book Neurophilosophy.

This book was formative for me, in that it showed a way I could combine my interest in the brain with my love for philosophy. Since then, new generations of graduate students have seen the naturalness of the link and begun to bring the wealth of neuroscientific discoveries into the philosophical debates. 

In Conscience, she looks at the evolutionary roots of our tendencies to form bonds and create social norms to approach the issue of whether our sociality is hardwired. She also discusses the troubling case of sociopaths, who appear to be naturally unethical.

A doctor in early twentieth-century Trieste demands that an eccentric patient write his memoirs as a form of psychotherapy. These pages are those memoirs – the doctor calls them all lies – and form the fictional life story of one of my favourite misfits, the unreliable Zeno Cosini, with his horde of idiosyncrasies. Between proposing to three sisters within an hour and making a fortune on the stock market by mistake, he spends his time nurturing his hypochondria and trying to give up smoking, which means endlessly smoking ‘last cigarettes’. A seminal work of modernism, this is another novel with autobiographical ties to the author, and I left it torn between laughter and tears over just how complex, ironic and funny we humans can be.