100 Books Like Something Sensational to Read in the Train

This is a quintessential read for any Christmas bookworm. I read it every year at the holidays. It’s a quick read but such a fun way to immerse myself in the magic of that era. I recommend reading the book as it takes on a totally different feel in the mind than just watching the films.

Although I read this book as a child, I only began to appreciate it when reading it again as an adult. The sheer beauty of the English prose makes it, I think, the best-written book ever, if only in terms of the mastery of words.

Some of the underlying themes are rewarding to explore, such as friendship, nature, the importance of home, and forgiveness, and the idea of a threat to a peaceful idyll from the encroachment of modernity now touches a chord, as does the message that people (or animals) with wealth and privilege have a choice over how they behave. 

What’s so neat about this book is that it doesn’t just capture a light-hearted and moving glimpse into English academia; it provides glimpses into a man’s—an institution in himself—relationships with his wife, coworkers, and students.

I enjoyed the progression of time. Several generations of students interact with the aging, albeit the same, “Mr. Chips.”  There’s something neat about that.

One of the many great comic novels featuring Bertie Wooster, a rich and likeable but somewhat dim-witted fellow about town and his more than capable butler Jeeves who spends a great deal of his time extricating Bertie from various scrapes in which he finds himself. Wodehouse's light and witty prose and the cast of amusing individuals such as Gussie Fink-Nottle and Tubby Glossop, not only make this book a joy to read but guarantees smiles and laughter.

I love the delightful daftness, the sheer infantile silliness of this autobiography; it’s proof you can preserve your inner child well into maturity. Words are like Play-Doh to our Bob.

The comedian’s early years were marked by sadness, but he celebrates the power of having a laugh and hanging out with your mates. It made perfect sense to me to learn that the book came about because of a brush with heart failure.

It’s one of those books I dip into for a quick fix.

I loved comedian Bob Monkhouse's frankness as his autobiography revealed not only his often hilarious life story, but also the very painful personal tragedies he experienced.

When he was nine years old he fell in his garden and broke his leg, causing him to scream in agony. His mother ran out to him, but smacked him round the head and told him: “Quiet, Robert! What will the neighbours think?”

Fortunately, Bob showed kindness and love to his own son Gary who suffered from cerebral palsy, which meant part of his brain was permanently damaged and he was unable to control his limbs or speak.

Yet Bob made me—and the nation—laugh with his stand-up comedy routines, film roles, and amusing anecdotes.

I love this book because it describes Sanghera’s personal journey into the history of the British empire, something he barely learned about in his school lessons in the UK.

The book is great because it doesn’t assume prior knowledge about the topic, so it goes over some basics that are easy to miss. In places, it’s funny; in places, it's sad, but the best thing about Empire is its feel for narrating a good story and being transparent about some of the personal feelings that this history brought up for the author

I love this description of the power that the Arthurian legends exerted in nineteenth-century Britain and its cultural imagination.

With the re-printing of Thomas Malory’s Morte Darthur, poets, writers, and artists were inspired by these tales of chivalry and sacrifice at a time when the British Empire was at its height and ideals of service, governance, and personal endeavour were central to norms of masculinity.

Girouard perfectly captures the mood of the times and shows us why the vision of Camelot, doomed in its own Arthurian context, was even more flawed, and yet magnetic, in the context of empire.

In peerless prose, Winder proffers a simple thesis: that Britain is a nation of immigrants.

Despite our German royal family, and all those businesses created by Jews and Indians, we have long been a nation in denial about the immigrant blood flowing through our veins. To such a degree in the Windrush Scandal we have seen actual British citizens being threatened with deportation to countries they barely know.

This important book also challenges the dominant political narrative of my lifetime: that immigrants come here uninvited to take advantage of British hospitality.

If there was one book I could wish onto the National Curriculum, it would be this.

The British Empire underwent a profound transformation in the eighteenth century—so much so that historians sometimes draw a line between the “first” and “second” British Empires.

One aspect of that transformation concerned how colonies were governed. Until the 1760s, most British colonies enjoyed strong legislatures, a limited role for the military in everyday life, and the protections of English law. That changed during the Age of Revolutions, as Britain embraced an increasingly autocratic style of colonial rule.

The King’s Peace charts this transformation in an engaging and accessible way by weaving its arresting case studies into an ambitious argument about how modern states exercise authority. It gave me a keen sense of how the empire could simultaneously feel fragile and crushingly strong.