100 Books Like Wilt

This book continues to astound me. Flann O’Brien puts together such a surreal set of circumstances for his unnamed narrator that the book is hard to put down.

O’Brien doesn’t strike me as the Hunter Thompson type; this book made me wonder what they were brewing into the whiskey on the Emerald Isle. The improbability of the narrator’s criminal activity and the law enforcement response often seems like a fever dream, albeit a very entertaining one. Even though I now know the M. Knight Shyamalan twist, I still can re-read this book, thinking, “What’s next? What’s next?”

I found this book in college, and at the time, I thought it was the most unique book I had ever read.

Thompson’s “Gonzo Journalism” was fresh, funny, and thought-provoking, with a subtext of modern poetry, political activism, and a sense of humor I have never seen replicated.

This book is an unyielding portrayal of the excesses of 1980s consumerism, hedonism, and self-destruction. Amis pulls no punches in his depiction of John Self, a 35-year-old director of TV commercials who lives a life of excess driven by his appetites—primarily for food, drugs, alcohol, sex, and, of course, money. Through John Self’s descent, the novel delivers a harsh commentary on the culture of greed and indulgence that characterized the decade.

The novel's portrayal of greed, addiction, and sexism rubbed some readers and critics the wrong way. Some saw it as too nihilistic or excessively grim in its critique of 1980s culture, where everything seemed for sale, including morality. However, in this age of trigger warnings, safe spaces, and pervasive purity spirals, I personally found its unapologetically gritty satire a breath of fresh air.

This book will appeal not only to fans of dark humor and satire but also to… show more.

I’ve always been fascinated by the “dreaming spires” of Oxford University and enjoy Gaudy Night because it immerses me in the world of a (fictional) women’s college set in 1930s Oxford.

As a former professor, I’m intrigued by the internecine political and personal battles in the Senior Common Room (SCR), or college faculty lounge, as well as the friction between those professors devoted entirely to an academic career versus those trying to maintain the challenging balance of work and family, the same issues women struggle with today, nearly one hundred years later.

Sayers weaves together these tensions with a mysterious “poltergeist” who torments the college with poison-pen letters, pranks, vandalism, and violence into a compelling mystery under the dreaming spires.

Ostensibly an academic dissertation, the footnotes begin to reveal a far wilder and manic story happening to the writer.

There are trilingual puns, verbal pratfalls, and all the wild humour that Nabokov is known for throughout this book. Of all the metafiction I have ever read, this book made me feel as if I’d been given something rather than just had a big literary joke played on me.

This is my favourite Dr. Seuss book (sorry, Horton!). Our hero is… um, maybe a bear? Anyway, he’s carefree, young, and lives in the Valley of Vung. Pretty idyllic, yes? Until it’s not. Poor guy gets attacked by creatures determined to bite off his body parts. Fortunately, a chap in a one-wheeler-wubble shows up (I love it when that happens) and offers to take him to Solla Sollew, “Where they never have problems, at least very few.” What follows is a hero’s journey crammed with no end of near-death experiences culminating in him finally reaching utopia to discover…he can’t get in. He’s been resilient all along, but it’s here he excels and decides to go home and face his problems head-on. Sure, he brings a club. But, well, different times…       

London, 1795 (the starting point in this book, for the current location and time, please check your phone). Ned Rise is a put-upon rogue whose life has been filled with personal catastrophes and several brushes with death. After being falsely accused of murder (because that’s how it goes when you’re Ned) he finds himself condemned to the malarial jungles of Africa, and providing free labour for the real-life Scottish explorer Mungo Park. Their fatal journey down the Niger River makes his days on the squalid streets of London look like a picnic, and Ned Rise proves to be more level-headed and resilient than the famous Scottish adventurer. T.C. Boyle is one of my favourite authors, and the creative energy and scathing social commentary in this fantastic book never lets up.       

Of course, the entire notion of a ferocious enmity between Mozart and Salieri is fiction. They were actually friends and once even collaborated on a short cantata, Per la ricuperata salute di Ofelia [On the Recovery of the Health of Ofelia].

However, the story is a marvelous conception, seasoned by the central idea that the envious Salieri somehow ruined Mozart and drove him to his death (from overwork — also quite fictitious!). It truly “works” literarily. The play goes even further, accentuating the overbearing political influence of Italian musicians in the court.

I recommend the script of the play (from which the movie derived) so that the reader can get an even deeper appreciation for Salieri’s villainous character—and I can also recommend the award-winning movie!

I’m a total Looney Tunes fan. Okay, the Roadrunner and Coyote were never my go-to toons (I’m more of a Daffy man), but this short story hits the funny bone at just the right angle. The most resilient of all cartoon characters is Wile E. Coyote: Despite getting blown up, run over, and frequently falling off cliffs, he never quits. He’s a silent, comedic antagonist who always has new and creative approaches in his attempts to bag that bird. That said, there was a rather unhealthy reliance on those Acme products that never did him any good… So now he’s doing something about that! Wile E. has filed a product liability suit against the Acme Company. Those malfunctioning rocket sleds ruined his life and he’s seeking $17 million in damages. 

I love Noir because it starts out plausibly enough but quickly starts slipping sideways into stranger realms. Of course, it’s Christopher Moore, so it’s going to be hilarious. I was amazed by the world-building Moore undertakes in creating the seamy underside of late-40s San Francisco. The Raymond Chandler/Dashiell Hammett vibe totally drew me in.

I found Noir’s San Francisco to be not quite realistic and not quite cartoonish, but very engaging. It’s a perfect place for Sammy “Two Toes” Tiffin, a down-on-his-luck bartender who meets the love of his life while the rest of his world goes cuckoo. Adding in twists involving a crashed flying saucer and a secret conspiracy of the wealthy and powerful had me hooked.