100 Books Like Remarkably Bright Creatures

After I visited Sicily at 22 (the same age as Mariella in the book) and stayed with relatives in Siracusa, I fell in love with Sicily (and all of Italy) and wanted to know everything I could about it, its history, its customs, architecture, food, and especially to understand the collective psyche of its people. 

My grandmother was born in Sicily and never spoke English even after moving to the United States, and my uncles and father spent a good part of their childhoods in Catania, where the Sicily part of Becoming Mariella takes place. I had never before felt the deep longing of a cultural belonging, and this book, written in 1958, is one of the finest works of twentieth-century fiction (according to Daunt Books), and opened my eyes to the pride and richness of the Sicilian people and its aristocracy, their stubbornness and an understanding of how,… show more.

This is an unlikely story, yet it is also a true one. Harry de Leyer, a Dutch immigrant, saved a horse named Snowman from the slaughterhouse. Harry trained Snowman to become a show-jumping champion. This is a story about an incredible long shot and about a man who believed in his horse. What’s not to love?

I am a third-generation horsewoman, and I grew up hearing stories about the “great horses.” I remember my mother sharing the tale of Snowman and Harry de Leyer with me. For the most part, equestrian stars are incredibly expensive, pedigreed animals. Snowman, in contrast, pulled a plow. The story of Snowman makes it seem possible that we can also find or encounter our own magical plow horse who can carry us to the rarified air of the top of the equestrian world.

This was the first book I ever pulled from the big kids’ shelves at our library. I read it in the big chair in the den until Mother chased me outside with dire threats that I was ruining my eyes. 

Then I read among straw bales and a heap of yard cats until nightfall lured the cats away. Then I read in bed until Mother threatened further direness if I didn’t turn off my light. Then I read by moonlight until I fell asleep and woke again the next day to read more.

A shipwreck, an island, and a horse. A little barn in the suburbs. These were the opposite of my world. During the hours I spent with this book, I became an escape reader.

I read this book years ago and it has never left me, perhaps because I recognize pieces of myself in Amir’s immigrant experience. 

But what makes the book unforgettable for me is the bond between two young boys. The connection between them is spontaneously formed, built on the innocence of childhood, and crosses social, ethnic, and class divides. This makes the story all the more bittersweet when the beauty of their early world dissolves into the tangled path that follows.

Yet the boys’ friendship echoes the truth of friendships everywhere: messy, loyal, painful, and sometimes, if we’re lucky, redeemed by love.

This is the best novel I’ve read about bubonic plague.

Student historian Kivrin travels back in time to England of the Middle Ages—unknowingly at the start of the Black Death. The cause of Black Death was the plague bacteria, unknown to people of that time.

What makes the book memorable is its depiction of everyday life, where children who get lost in the forest must find their way home by the tolling of the village church bell. Ultimately, the bell tolls for all the plague’s victims.

The vivid characterization makes me experience people of a time so distant their minds feel alien to us, yet still deeply human.

Many an idealistic young law student like me felt that jolt in our spine early on when we saw up in the balcony of that courthouse a sleepy Scout being told, “Stand up, Jean Louise. Your father’s passin’.”

The movie is as faithful to the novel as the medium would allow. The novel is told entirely from Scout’s POV and not only focuses upon the racism of the time and place, but also upon her coming of age as a tomboy and being told to act “As a little girl should.”

The book offers more to those of us for whom the rule of law and not of men is a passion, especially in Finch’s closing: “There is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of Rockefeller, a stupid man the equal of Einstein… That institution, gentlemen, is a court.” 

When novelist Paul Sheldon suffers a terrible car accident, he finds himself in the care of Annie Wilkes, a woman who claims to be his biggest fan and wants to nurse him back to health. But Annie isn’t pleased with the way Paul has brought his beloved series featuring Misery Chastain to a close. 

I love that we get a front-row seat to this unhinged author-fan encounter. Despite the horror that’s inflicted, readers—especially ones who are also writers—may take a perverse pleasure in seeing a fan have such strong feelings about a fictional character. 

Another component I adore is the way an author’s ego often causes them to overlook warning signs that would set off alarm bells in others who have a clearer picture of what’s really going on.

What if reproduction required people to mate with another species—creatures more alien than bacteria?

In this book, Lilith Iyapo awakes after a nuclear war to find her alien saviors expect just that. The alien Oankali are organisms whose cells modify their own genes to perfection. But their genes run short of diversity, until they are compelled to share genes with a population as alien to them as—humans.

This disturbing novel asks us how much of our own humanity would we trade for survival? Would I welcome a half-alien child if its monstrous traits cured cancer? A science fiction novel that made me imagine the biological dilemmas of gene exchange.

This is actually just the first book of Ferrante’s four Neapolitan novels, which tell a single riveting story of two girls, Lila and Lenù, from a depressed Naples neighborhood. Lenù is the narrator, taking us through fifty years of friendship and the latter half of the 20th century. (Her actual name is Elena, like the author—another doubling, especially since she writes under a pseudonym.)

I am a sucker for event: a lot happens and we get to know a huge cast of characters from the neighborhood. But our anchors are these two friends and rivals, vibrant and injured, striving to transcend their origins.

This book was one of those books that hit me at just the right time.

Warning: this book is going to make you reevaluate your life in the best possible way. In this fast-paced, ego-centric world, this book made me hit the pause button and reflect on how I wish to be remembered when my life has passed. 

Where other books on this list show purpose through leadership, service, confinement, or revenge, this one is shaped by letting go. Morrie reminds me that meaning isn’t found in what is accumulated or accomplished but in how I show up for others. It’s the kind of reminder that makes me question whether what I’m working so hard for is actually worth working for.