100 Books Like Watership Down

This one isn’t fantasy at all. In fact, it’s probably the most accurate fictional retelling of the battle of Gettysburg out there. But I love it so much I had to list it here.

Furthermore, the characters involved—such as Lee, Longstreet, and Chamberlain—are deeply spiritual men, meaning that many pages meditate on the meaning of all this blood and loss. These meditations evoke a sense fantasy often can: that the visible world contains a mystery deeper than our limited minds can grasp. 

Yet the text remains deeply human. The Civil War pits brother against brother, friend against friend. In it, there is a great speech by Col. Chamberlain addressing his men which captures a theme of the book.

“This is a different kind of army,” he says. “If you look back through history you will see men fighting for pay, for women, for some other kind of loot. They fight… show more.

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.

Almost impossible to put down—this was the first book that made me physically feel the words.

I wouldn’t call it enjoyable in the usual sense; the experience was excruciating. But that’s exactly what makes it unforgettable. Hillenbrand’s prose, paired with the true story of Louis Zamperini’s plunge from Olympic track star to the unrelenting hell of a POW camp, smacks you off your cozy little couch and right into a world where Sleepytime tea, candles, and Netflix don’t exist.

What struck me most was how it captured not only the brutality of survival, but the stubborn, almost irrational resolve of the human spirit—and the possibility of forgiveness that would defy logic. This isn’t a book that’s light to hold—it’s grit, torment, and triumph in equal parts. I recommend it because it inspires without sugarcoating—harrowing and uplifting in the same breath.

For anyone who wants proof of just how deep the… show more.

It is a book that deep dives into a historical event, in this case, the 1893 World Columbian Exposition. Check. It is a nonfiction book that reads like a gripping thriller, in this case, the serial killer H.H. Holmes, who built a three-story building featuring secret rooms, torture chambers, and a crematorium. Check. Chicago leaps off the page. By the end of the book, I was able to envision the massive exposition, its hundreds of temporary buildings, all white colored, interlaced with ponds and canals.

Much like that exposition helped raise Chicago up from its Great Fire, so I could see a Chicago of the past, in a glorious triumph of industry and innovation. Oh, and yeah, a serial killer constructing a horrific murder building.

What truly is there left to say about this masterpiece of classic fantasy that hasn’t been said a million times already?

After devouring the light appetizer that is The Hobbit, my teenage imagination was utterly blown away by what I only later understood to be the quintessential blueprint for nearly everything that’s followed throughout the years in this genre.

The sheer level of minute detail and painstakingly developed mythos is nothing short of a masterclass in world-building—a must-have skill for writing this kind of epic tale—but it was the story itself, with its core principles of friendship, loyalty, and sacrifice, that resonated so deeply with me.

I love this book for its fabulous sense of place, nonstop action, and realistic depiction of the rough-and-tumble Yukon during the 1890s Gold Rush.

The protagonist may be a dog but Buck, the good-heard Saint Bernard we meet as affable and innocent puppy, is I truly believe one of the most unforgettable characters in the history of adventure novels. His transition to a feral state is utterly believable as the book unfolds the darkness that lies at the heart of all too many men and the often violent chain of events that causes Buck to seek a new life.

I have read this book three times, and each time, it continues to amaze me. 

Here is another masterpiece.

It purports to be historical fiction set in the Old West, following one of the last great cattle drives. Yet within a few chapters, it begins to feel like a series of episodes from Grimm’s fairy tales.

I remember at UC Irvine, where I earned my Fiction MFA, several fellow writers were reading this novel alongside me. We kept stopping each other in the hall or at cocktail parties to relive this or that chapter, struggling to understand how it could be both so entertaining and so good.

The fact that it is long—a real doorstopper of a book—adds to its “too-big-for-one-genre” feel.

As I indicated earlier, I am a Lee Child superfan. I’ve read all his original books. A thick (and expensive) biography. A long essay he wrote on heroism. All his short stories. You get the idea. So it was fun to re-read this book, his first.

It wasn’t what I remembered, that’s for sure! Yes, the action scenes are vivid and instructive (Child writes about the utility of a headbutt versus the risk of breaking your hand with a punch), and the action is what I remember most. But there’s more to this book than fights: there’s a major romance, which the author writes with gusto and in detail, heavy on feelings, not on private parts; the prose is better than solid, with imagery that really makes it come alive; and the story is plausible and tightly woven, with plenty of surprises. 

Even a casual glance at today’s headlines will show how race continues to be a perplexing issue in our society. And it shouldn’t be. But we need examples of how to navigate the complexities of race and McBride’s powerful memoir shows us how.

His deep love – and appreciation – for his mother and coming to terms with her story while still standing in his own truth as a Black man is instructive and inspiring…and a reminder that there is nothing greater than love.

This was the first book I ever pulled from the big kids’ shelves at our library. I read it in the big chair in the den until Mother chased me outside with dire threats that I was ruining my eyes. 

Then I read among straw bales and a heap of yard cats until nightfall lured the cats away. Then I read in bed until Mother threatened further direness if I didn’t turn off my light. Then I read by moonlight until I fell asleep and woke again the next day to read more.

A shipwreck, an island, and a horse. A little barn in the suburbs. These were the opposite of my world. During the hours I spent with this book, I became an escape reader.