Books like The Horse's Mouth — picked by fans

I adore this book because it is so unique—I’ve never read anything quite this specific or niche which seems so all-encompassing.

It is the story of a life lost, and a life found. Of a father that dies and how the recovery of his daughter is tied up with the start of a new relationship—with a goshawk.

At the outset, the author is so wonderfully eloquent on all aspects of loss; the sudden jarring sense of confusion when a person dies and you have their possessions still in your hands; the struggle to keep in touch with reality (“for weeks I felt like I was made of dully burning metal”); the desperation to see the back of grief when new relationships are desperately grasped at, and fail of course, because of that desperation. 

The goshawk saves her (and us) from the darkness, as she becomes gripped with the… show more.

I am married to an auction veteran and have written on art and antiques in an earlier life so Frayn’s satirical farce hits all the right notes for me. A farce without slamming doors but plenty of misunderstandings and self-inflicted confusion.

Martin Clay, a philosopher turned amateur art historian and art expert, tumbles down the rabbit hole of self-delusion as he convinces himself that a painting he barely glimpsed is a lost Bruegel. He searches countless documents to find the facts that he twists to prove his hunch leading the reader on a deep dive into Dutch political and art history. Moral equivocation, adultery, tax evasion, double-dealing, plot twists and turns—everything a good farce should be.

For my high school sophomore history teacher, world history was only Greece under Pericles and England under Elizabeth I. I went to Greece under her spell, and ever since, I have been drawn to books about Greece—fiction and non-fiction.

This book is about a fictional Greek island at the end of the Ottoman empire, an English con man caught up in his archaeological con, a beautiful artist (played by a young Helen Mirren in the film version), greedy government officials, and an informer who fears for his life is our unreliable narrator. It makes for an engrossing novel of adventure and ideas that holds up on a second reading after over forty years. 

One of my favorite poets writing about one of my favorite artists. Cornell’s mysterious, alluring dreamscapes in his delicately crafted boxes meet their soulmate in the prose poems of Simic. In this work of only seventy-seven pages of short meditations on Cornell’s life, inspiration, and method, Simic creates the poetic equivalent of Cornell’s visual art. Simic recognizes, as did Cornell, that “The commonplace is miraculous if rightly seen, if recognized.”

I have never been able to look at Renaissance paintings of the Madonna and child the same after reading this brilliant and controversial book. I promise your eyes will be opened as well. These paintings were not simple religious decoration. Christ’s genitalia, exposed or covered, was a visible element in theological arguments in the Renaissance about the humanity of Christ. In our secular world, Steinberg argues, we have lost sight of the sexual component of these images. Steinberg’s breadth of learning is astounding, and the extensive footnotes are as stimulating as the text.  

I’m a sucker for a pun, and this is another witty book about a serious subject, so it’s right up my street. Milton it ain’t—I romped through it at a time when I was desperate for entertainment. Aging is explored with a sense of freshness and fun as a teenager goes to work in an old people’s home.

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.

This classic satire gripped me even though I only half-understood it. Whatever disaster befell my family, my mother used to assert it was surely for the best; so when, as an eye-rolling teenager, I found this on the reading list—Mum’s philosophy, tested in the real world—I was hooked.

OK, the eighteenth century was racist, sexist, and colonial… but perspective is what Voltaire is all about. Didn’t quite cure me of optimism, btw.

I’m fascinated by historical fiction that sticks to the “facts” of a person’s life but imagines and richly describes that person’s inner world—in this case Georgia O’Keefe’s. The novel focuses on the young painter’s love affair with Alfred Stieglitz, an established photographer and art dealer. Before the art world knows Georgia O’Keefe as a ground-breaking artist in her own right, she is introduced as the female nude in Stieglitz’s photographs. Does her art gain notice in part because of this scandalous introduction, or does it merely eroticize her and her work? And while she learns much from Stieglitz, what does this relationship cost her? This book is masterfully “painted” with O’Keefe-like brush strokes that assemble a tantalizing picture and still leave much to the imagination.

I only read this book after watching The American, the movie (starring George Clooney) that was based on this book. And although I loved the movie, the book was even better. I love to travel, especially to Italy, and reading the book is the next best thing to going there.

The prose is elegant, bordering on poetic, and there is an underlying psychological tension that kept my stomach acid bubbling. And being a genre-bending kind of writer, I love to read books that bend genres. This is a thriller, yes, but it also reads like a memoir or literary fiction. Try it.