Books like The Appeal

I could listen to Fredrik Bachman’s characters monologue about life all day, so to get to read a book where eight of his quirky—and yes, anxious—people share bits of their lives and hard-fought wisdom is a gift to humanity.

Not to mention, many of the chapters are formatted as witness interviews between the authorities and the characters caught in a hostage crisis.

Heavy? Not when it’s Backman writing. He creates the most vivid scenes, even when all he’s working with on the page is dialogue.

I’m a fan of Dune because it feels larger than science fiction and more enduring than almost any genre label can contain.

I admire the depth of Frank Herbert’s worldbuilding, the strength of his prose, and the narrative weight carried by his characters and ideas. I return to books like this because they helped define what speculative fiction could become.

I also value Dune as a work of its own time. I do not want foundational novels rewritten to imitate modern language or contemporary storytelling habits. I want them preserved, studied, and experienced as they were written. To me, the best way to keep a genre alive is not to alter its past, but to let new authors build upon it with voices of their own.

I have loved this book since it first scared me as a young reader.

And I think this is still the best of all bloodsucker books ever published. While this classic novel didn’t create the myth of vampires, it sure made them iconic. With his fangs and flowing bat-wing cape, Dracula sets the standard for things that go bump in the night. His single purpose is to scare us, and he is good at his job. He has no redeeming values.

This vampire is no charismatic bad boy hoping to win the girl’s heart—he just wants to drink her blood! The original Dracula is a fiend—horrible, frightening, and dangerous. Which is why the book still works after more than a century.

Okay, so this book is predominantly about the struggles of a boy going through puberty but its depiction of the magnetic older characters of Bert and Queenie in the Alderman Cooper Sunshine Home are among the funniest scenes in the book. 

Of every book I’ve ever read, it remains one of the most hilarious and if you’ve read it previously, it’s well worth another visit.

What intrigues me about this book is the way the author, Margaret Atwood, took the (Genesis 30) story of Jacob, who impregnated his wife's handmaiden to produce the children which his wife could not conceive.

She then puts herself in the place of that handmaiden and asks some serious questions. Was that handmaid even given a choice in the matter? What would have happened to her if she had refused? She then rolls the same idea forward 4,000 years to a pseudo religious society in which the sole purpose of handmaidens is to use their bodies to conceive and gestate the next generation for those whom they serve.

I’m not a fan of novels that are paced like greased rockets, as if the author’s afraid you’ll suddenly throw the book across the room, turn on Netflix, and order a pizza. Which is a key reason I love this book. Precious Ramotswe is a “traditionally built” woman who solves crimes in a superbly witty yet unhurried fashion and with deep compassion that stops short of sentimentality.

Her heart (huge) and brain (gently incisive) work in perfect tandem in this book. The plot is simple, which will frustrate readers who prefer intricate puzzles in their crime fiction. But for me, the pleasure lies in leisurely getting to know this wise, ingenious detective and her humble neighborhood in Botswana’s capital city.

A gorgeous, extravagant dual-timeline historical mystery about late-20th-century academics researching a pair of (fictional) Victorian poets – did they or didn’t they?

If you like library settings, fictional documents (letters, poems – lots of poems), and a good dose of poking-fun-at-academia, you’ll love it. Yes, it is also a movie (though I can’t speak to it). 

If you haven’t read this book yet, you absolutely must. I can hardly articulate the brilliance of its narrative. The profound bond of sisterhood depicted here has touched me deeply. The portrayal of female relationships is nothing short of exquisite, capturing the relentless urge to fight for one’s loved ones in a way I’ve never seen before.

I was completely absorbed in the roller coaster of emotions experienced by each character, feeling every high and low alongside them. This novel taught me invaluable lessons and that the pursuit of dreams should never be diminished by circumstance. Its beautiful storytelling and unforgettable message make it a truly remarkable read.

Christine has a brain injury, which causes her memories to degrade every time she sleeps. She wakes up every morning as a blank slate, and her devoted husband explains who she is and then helps her get through the day. Unbeknownst to him, she starts keeping a journal—and soon realizes that his story about how she was injured is a little different each time.

I'm never in the mood for a thriller with a big twist in the penultimate chapter. I always want one with a big twist at the end of every chapter, and this book absolutely delivers. Is the husband a good guy or a bad guy? I changed my mind a dozen times over the course of this book, expertly manipulated by the author. I read the whole thing aloud to my wife on a long drive, and the time went by in a blink.

I love this book because, even though it’s a crime story, it’s also a rollercoaster ride through the story of the marriage of Louise and Niall, who are both in various ways involved in the crime.

Each person is lying for different reasons and each of them is terrified to tell the truth to each other for fear of how the other person might react. The plot takes them through moments of dark despair, utter dishonesty, anger, and even hatred, all of which is somehow part and parcel of the marriage they have created.

There is hope, however, and they come to realise a deeper truth about themselves and their relationship which, for me, was incredibly moving in an unexpected way.