Books like The Kreutzer Sonata

Another classic that’s hard to argue with.

Quite simply, Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian is an extraordinary read. O'Brian doesn't simply tell a story; he immerses you in the life of the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars, where every maneuver and shifting wind carries life-or-death consequences.

What captivated me most was the remarkable friendship between the bold, charismatic Captain Jack Aubrey and the thoughtful surgeon and natural philosopher Stephen Maturin. Their wit, loyalty, and contrasting personalities give the novel its heart amid the naval action.

The authentic sailing details never felt overwhelming because they served the story, making every battle more gripping and every voyage more immersive. By the end, I wasn't just invested in the adventure; I was eager to set sail with Aubrey and Maturin again.

Julian Barnes dramatizes the tortured inner life of the Soviet Union’s greatest composer.

Dmitri Shostakovich was by all accounts a nervous wreck: a twitching, blinking, sweating mess. He lived in the glare of Stalin himself as the most prominent Russian composer in the 1930s and ‘40s, during the Great Terror.

What I return to is the way Barnes takes us inside Shostakovich’s mind as he tried to balance writing music with life-or-death politics. Some of the compromises he made, like denouncing Igor Stravinsky’s modern compositions, haunted him. "He had betrayed Stravinsky, and in doing so, he had betrayed music. Later, he told Mravinsky that it had been the worst moment of his life."

This novel explores what it means to leave music behind.

August Blue follows a concert pianist who walks off the stage, mid-performance, then follows her doppelganger across Europe. As she moves further from her artistic career, music becomes a memory. 

I admire the dream-like nature of the story, and the way Deborah Levy manages to capture in prose the idea of a sound heard, remembered, and slowly forgotten, as in this passage: "There were weeks when I played fragments of my score through the night, which is when I felt most in communion with [her]. I projected myself into her and she became music."

A celebrated composer squares off against a newspaper editor as old friends become enemies.

Ian McEwan has always woven classical music into his novels; his book Saturday features a neurosurgeon listening to Bach’s Goldberg Variations while he operates. But the Booker Prize-winning Amsterdam features a working musician as a main character. 

Some readers view Amsterdam as second-tier McEwan. I don’t necessarily disagree, but I love how vain and prickly Clive Linley can be. McEwan writes wonderful passages about the physical process of composing, often at the piano, for a man who “regarded himself as Vaughan Williams’s heir.”

I didn’t expect to like this book so much!

Caveat, I’ve studied Soviet history and my husband is Ukrainian, so when I saw Kissing Tolstoy was heavily drenched in Eastern European commentary—the hero being a Russian Literature Professor—I worried the author would miss a lot of the nuance. But she didn’t!

Now, you don’t need my background to like this book, but I did laugh out loud at some of the aptly put cultural quirks. Kissing Tolstoy is a wonderful mix of inner-city edge, meets intellectual romance.

A real treat if you’re looking for something fun and with depth!

For an intriguing, first-hand account of the art and life of the greatest ballerina of our time, don't miss this grand read. Natalia Makarova, the prima ballerina of them all gives this thrilling autobiography life as she describes not only her roles at the Kirov Ballet in St. Petersburg and at American Ballet Theatre in New York City, but also her daring escape from KGB agents in London where she defected. Glorious photography crowns this amazing achievement. On a personal note, my life changed after seeing her dance—first in a video of Giselle and then later in person at the Metropolitan Opera House. 

It’s not possible that Tolstoy died and lived to tell about it, but that's what this book feels like.

As Ivan Ilych’s illness progresses, the reader sees how shallow his relationships are, and how fruitless is his striving to “get ahead.” As I read this book, I felt the vast chasm between the living and the dying, how alone Ivan is in his suffering. Ivan Ilych is no hero: he is an everyman. He squarely faces the pointlessness of his life, and ultimately throws off the things of no importance.

Through his experience I anticipated my own death, and felt how important it must be to live my life remembering that all the stupid stuff doesn’t matter. What does matter is my relationships with God and with other humans. Everyone who expects to die someday should read this book.

When a clearly enlightened spiritual master speaks to us, our first reaction is often resistance because the message is designed to end the reign of egocentricity and return us to Authentic Being. To me, everything Leo Tolstoy wrote in his maturity offers the same possibility, but none so starkly as My Religion. As with reading Mahatma Gandhi, we have the opportunity to witness the deep practice of an aspirant grappling with transcending the suffering of the human condition, in much the same way John of the Cross describes the “dark night of the soul.” It illustrates every person’s spiritual journey and the uncompromising nature of the path to awakening.

This heart-warming tale is a true Christmas classic. A lonely old shoemaker dreams that Jesus will come and visit him, so he eagerly anticipates the event, hoping to make him a special pair of shoes. Instead, his heart is tugged by others in need, and he helps three different people, from a street sweeper to a beggar. Finally, he gives up waiting for Christ to visit and realizes it was only a dream. But then he hears the voice of Jesus and learns that Jesus came to him in every person he helped that day.

My first job in journalism was as an assistant to the great New York newspaperman Pete Hamill. He told me to always read people who were better than you and to back up his point he had a shelf of Russian literature in his bathroom. For years, I was too intimidated to read Tolstoy. When I finally did, I was shocked to discover that much of his writing is as accessible as the New York Post. War and Peace is his most famous work, but for me he’s most alive and urgent in his shorter fiction. The title story is among the most harrowing descriptions of death ever, “Kreutzer Sonata” reveals an understanding of the psychopath’s mind that would have Hitchcock and Kubrick whimpering the covers, and “Haji Murad” is a tale of terrorism and betrayal that could come straight from the current Russian war. Some of Tolstoy’s work… show more.