80 Books Like The History of the Damnable Life and Deserved Death of Doctor John Faustus 1592

Not necessarily the world’s first novel (the world’s first novel is probably lost) nor even the world’s first great novel (that would be Petronius’ Satyricon, which you should also not get caught reading), The Golden Ass is definitely the world’s first great novel that has survived through the centuries intact.

It’s the story of a man who tries just one time to dabble in magic and accidentally turns himself into a donkey. The poor guy has a bunch of adventures as he tries to figure out how to, you know, stop being a donkey.

That doesn’t sound so bad, but no one’s ever going to let you read a book with the title The Golden Ass. It just means the golden donkey! There’s nothing filthy about it! But no one will believe you!

Some guy in Egypt realized long ago that you can create illusions, fly through the air, change your body into whatever you want, or “demolish buildings and castles,” all by writing out little crossword puzzles.

Like a fool, he recorded his method and handed it to some German dude, who passed the information along, and now it’s just in a book anyone can buy? All those secret crossword puzzles of power? Oh, man, if they catch you with this one, watch out, because people are really fond of their buildings and castles, and they do not have a sense of humor about their unscheduled demolition.

Katharine Briggs spent her whole life learning every single thing about every fairy, goblin, bogie, and sprite, and she put it all in one book.

Now, fairies are famous for their dislike of being talked about—cautious people refer to them as “the fair folk” or “the people of peace” so as not to offend. But Briggs put it right in the title! An Encyclopedia of Fairies! That was a very dangerous thing to do.

If your parents know anything about anything, they will object to your reading a book so dangerous. Still, you’ve got to learn these things sometime, don’t you?

Seven hundred years ago, someone (no one knows who) wrote a book full of mysterious letters and even more mysterious drawings of unknown plants described in unreadable paragraphs.

For centuries, people have struggled to eke some meaning from the book’s pages. Cryptologist William F. Friedman (the man who broke the Japanese code in WWII) spent his life trying to decipher the book. And all in vain.

No one knows what information the book contains. It could be anything! Simple steps for building a hydrogen bomb? Your parents’ deepest, darkest bathroom secrets? Maps of Atlantis? Maybe! This is the most dangerous book in the world!

I probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it.

I lived in Germany as a teenager and have only warm and exciting feelings for the country.

It seemed that everything from the food to the place itself was, somehow, far more interesting than England, my homeland. That was, no doubt, largely because it was not England and I was an agitated youth.

But this book also gave depth to my feeling because of Goethe’s presence in the German imagination, who is quite as important there as Shakespeare to England or Dante to Italy.

I am appreciative of this book for opening up the life and times, ideas and art, of this massive imaginative figure, about whom I previously knew very little. He knew that imagination is truth-bearing, carrying us to the heart of life.

If I were allowed to have only one novel about German culture and the coming of the Nazis, this would be it. And, if I were allowed only one novel about the price paid by those who create great art, this would also be it.

I have never read a better fictional account of what it means to make music, and there is something truly thrilling (but also quite chilling) about the story of the composer Adrian Leverkuhn’s Faustian pact with the devil.

I was also captivated by the way that Thomas Mann has his narrator tell this story, from the recent German past, from the “present” of bombs falling on Germany at the end of World War II.

I wasn’t following professional cycling in the bad old days of systematic doping, but this book made me feel like I was there—not just at the roadside, but in the peloton.

The characters—the good, the bad, and the downright repulsive, are all caught in a system that grinds down the best and brings out the worst, and I couldn’t look away. I wanted integrity to prevail, I wanted justice done, but most of all, I wanted to know what happened next.

Then there’s the prose, which is so bright and vivid that I found a new favourite line in almost every chapter. It’s compulsive, stylish, and cynical—rather like the sport itself.

I’m not much of a re-reader, yet after I finished the five books in this series, I turned straight back to page one and started over, cackling all the while.

Although Johannes Cabal would be far from charming if you met him, following his adventures is a delight due to Jonathan Howard’s delicious, dry wit. Whether it’s coming out on top in a deal with the Devil, solving a murder on an airship, or surviving a time loop in a Lovecraftian universe, I have confidence that Cabal’s clever mind–and giant revolver–will see him triumph with black humor and grumpiness intact. (The only thing that may be his undoing is his annoyingly charming vampire brother.)

These are some of the funniest fantasies around, and it’s a crying shame how little-known they are.

A young man loses all his money in a Paris casino and goes off to drown himself in the Seine. Before he can do so, he wanders into an antiquarian’s shop of treasures and is offered the skin of the title, a magical pelt that will grant its possessor any wish, but shrink each time, diminishing the possessor’s life force in the process. It’s a moral tale of wish fulfillment and identity, but most of all, it’s a thrilling glittering dark tale of ambition and excess. 

This is one of the first stories I ever read with a strong female protagonist at the helm. Dante Valentine is a bounty hunter, necromancer, and a no-nonsense kind of woman. She is stubborn, flawed, and her story is a classic answer to what happens when you make a literal deal with the devil. I appreciate that she is unapologetically human and blatantly admits to her faults as a person. She is honest—perhaps sometimes too much so—and perseveres when things go awry. If anything, I would say she is a stand-out not only as far as female protagonists are concerned, but protagonists in speculative fiction as well.