100 Books Like The Little Prince

In the year after my father’s death in a car crash, I was a young person in New York, trying to break into the world of magazine journalism.

I had been given half of an insurance settlement after my dad’s crash, which I used to survive while I applied for jobs every day. I was too zoned out to work at the time. But one thing I did do a lot of was read. I started with a book recommended by Sharon Stone on Oprah. The Alchemist.

What I loved the most about Santiago’s journey was the unexpected lessons that reveal his true path, the omens he finds along the way, and the belief he develops that when you go after your heart’s desire, the universe supports you.

All of these ideas would end up in my book, 20 years later, and this is because The Alchemist saved my… show more.

What I love most about Bird by Bird is the way that Anne Lamott characterises writing as a gift, a giving over to someone else in a manner akin only to being a parent.

While I am not a parent, I am inspired by this idea that the written word can make a person braver and better by virtue of opening them up to the world and people in new ways. Despite the hurdles and difficulties of the practice, which Lamott deftly outlines, she ultimately decides that a writer is pursuing an act of generosity and openness. I really love this idea.

There is a real lack of pretentiousness to Lamott’s writing, which allows you to take these nuggets and accept what otherwise might be sentimental claims that “writing is life” as simple truths. 

I would have thought to list another book here, and for sure, there are truly many books to be read that could easily be listed here, and despite that, this is listing Tolkien’s works for a third time; the truth simply stands in my library that his works are simply that great. 

So far be it that the renowned book of The Lord of the Rings be not included. I had been introduced to Tolkien and fantasy’s more serious nature by my dad and grandfather with readings of The Hobbit, and by it, I was already enamored with the world of Middle-earth, as Bilbo was my hero.

I loved the classic animated cartoon adaptations back then by Rankin and Bass, and Bakshi, which at the time was my main exposure to The Lord of the Rings, along with commentaries from my dad, until I finally read it at the time… show more.

Covey is internationally acclaimed for The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. However, I have a penchant for his also famous First Things First, a gem with visceral concepts that stick like honey in the brain. 

For example, the brilliance behind “Quad Two”—shorthand for items and to-dos that are important yet not urgent. Because they are not pressing, the things (and people) that matter most often get waylaid—propelling us into a life missing our passions and aspirations. Only cropping back up when they do become urgent—such as neglecting health until we can’t fully function.

And who can proceed in life unchanged following his introduction of the “Big Rocks” concept. I won’t do a spoiler alert. Let’s just say it merges prioritization with a singletasked focus.

Finally, I’m a sucker for the thoughtful worksheets nestled throughout First Things First.

This book is an intensely philosophical novel that tackles big subjects, like the nature of love, the limits and desirability of freedom, the expression of sexuality, and the very nature of human existence, while at the same time being immersive and easy to read. The main characters, Tomas and Tereza, are full of love for each other but fail to truly connect because of their personal frailties, which I believe is true of all of us at one time or another.

There are concepts from this novel that have become part of my own philosophy, in particular, that responsibility gives meaning to life. 

This is a powerful memoir.

As a reader, we follow Paul first as a doctor and then as a patient. He reminds us of our vulnerability when seeking medical care. He questions, “Why was I so authoritative in a surgeon’s coat but so meek in a patient’s gown?”

When Breath Becomes Air is a deep meditation on life and the dying process. Written in the first person, this is a courageous and emotionally charged read. Kalanithi is a courageous pilgrim who documents first-hand his own uncharted territory: death.

Confronted with his end of life, this 37-year-old neurosurgeon reflects on the fundamental universal questions that we will all ponder when facing mortality. Even though the reader is led graciously to death’s door, it remains an abrupt and emotionally devastating shock when, in fact, Paul Kalanithi’s breath simply becomes air.

At age 15, I was captivated by Ernest Hemingway and his depiction of Paris in the 1920s. This book today reignites the enchantment of those years. Hemingway's profound influence shaped my aspirations as a writer. Through his eyes, I can vividly see Paris's cafés, salons, and vibrant social scenes, which ultimately became the backdrop of my dreams.

This book, rich with lovemaking, drinking, writing, betting at the track, and the bohemian lifestyle of so many young artists in Paris, reawakens my desire to immerse myself in that world. Hemingway's narrative voice and his novels continue to speak to me in a language that feels intimately mine, reminding me of the undying impact of his work on my life and aspirations.

When I finished this book, I finally felt like a grown-up. It felt like I had just read a business classic—and I had. This book taught me more than any other about the vital role communication plays in relationships and the profound impact it can have.

It was the first time I truly understood how to build rapport and cultivate meaningful connections. I learned that it’s not about manipulating people but about influencing them, resolving conflicts, and earning their trust through kindness, respect, and integrity.

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.

This book is so intelligent that it gave me chills, but it’s also a literary page-turner. I adored the married couple at the center of the story for trying to use their very big brains to solve the problem of the emptiness they were feeling, which, spoiler alert, didn’t work, but it did lead to clever dialogue and some profound observations.

One of the themes in the book has to do with time, and the quote that haunts me the most is, “How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.” Somehow, this nihilistic book left me marveling at the preciousness of life.