Books like You Only Live Once — picked by fans

I was on an extended trip to Eastern Europe, back when Eastern Europe was not such a dandy place to visit, and I found myself with nothing to read. In a used bookstore in Prague, I found a tattered paperback, translated into English, of this next pick. It was falling apart, the pages stained by coffee and God knows what else. I bought it anyway.

And over the next few weeks, I was, for the third time, blown away by words on a page, by an author’s imagination. It’s been said that Don Quixote, written around 1600, was the first novel ever written. It may also be the greatest novel ever written. Adventure. Humor. Pathos. Crazy amounts of imagination. The Whole Damn Human Condition.

Make sure to find a first-class translation!

I first read this book exactly 50 years ago, back in 1974, when I was 26. Ever since then, I have reread Jaroslav Hašek's masterpiece every single year, always in February. It is the gloomiest month of the year in Europe when our tonus is at its lowest, and we desperately need something to cheer us up.

The hilarious story of the good soldier is precisely that “injection” of optimism, serenity, élan vital that helps me make it through the last winter months till the arrival of the Spring. Although I already know by heart many passages from Svejk, I still laugh aloud while reading them—reading about the instinctive wisdom of an ordinary, small Czech man trying to comically outsmart the demonic forces of History…

I loved this book because it proved that you can think a book is crap one day, and absolutely love it the next*. 

I was twenty-something and about to have an impacted wisdom tooth chiseled out and wanted a book for my convalescence. It had a great cover, so I flipped open to the first page and read the opening line—something like, “Amoebas don’t have bones…”.

Whoever wrote this book was of dubious sanity, so I bought it and had the wisdom tooth removed, which evidently actually removed the wisdom needed to appreciate the writing. Time passed, and I gave the book another try—evidently the wisdom had returned because what had once been chaotic and confusing and stupid was now delightfully random and effortlessly insightful, and really, really fun.

I loved this book.

* Actually, it wasn’t the next day; it was actually about a year or so later.

This one got me because, in contrast to the first 3 books, the dubious sanity wasn’t apparent at first; it was in stealth mode (like it is in the rest of us) and slowly revealed itself through the characters in a captivating and compelling demolition derby of old money privilege, no money envy, tennis glory days, hockey knuckles, and Hollywood sleaze. It’s an exceptionally good book by an exceptionally masterful writer that nobody’s ever heard of, at least I hadn’t.

One measure of a book (a physical book) is a count of how many pages have been dog-eared by the reader when they reach the last page. By this measure, this book is an exceptionally good book, since it yields not only an abundance of dog-eared pages but also numerous double-dog-eared pages—a crystalline-perfect character touch, a simple but poetic line of dialogue, a haunting description of a jawline, a blustering… show more.

This was one of the first books I read at university. I admired Marie Munkara’s gruff voice and the way she delicately balanced satirical humour and dark truths.

Juxtaposing the voices of colonial guards and officers with 16-year-old Aboriginal mother, Sugar, lends this novel a messy complexity which is always compelling.

At the beginning, I found it easy to mock and deride the white colonial officers: the overtly racist Drew, the well-meaning but exploitative Ralphie, the bumbling, inadequate Hump with his mistaken ambitions of grandeur. I thought I’d figured it all out, that I’d grasped all of Munkara’s meaning. 

But as Sugar’s fate is revealed, and more significantly, she recognises the inevitability of her downfall, I was humbled. Munkara’s book taught me to look beyond the seemingly obvious characters and literary devices to the nuance within. 

For any long-haul flight, Tom Sharpe is one of my go-to authors; he encapsulates British wit at its finest. Of the many that I’ve read, I probably feel the greatest connection to Porterhouse Blue. Having experienced Oxbridge undergraduate life for myself, this book revives so many memories. The main characters are so beautifully crafted and relatable. The resemblance of lead character Skullion to a porter at my old college is uncanny. As for Zipser the undergrad... well, having also been ‘romantically frustrated’ in my own college days, I have great empathy for him... including his fixation for the buxom bedder on his staircase.  

Vonnegut has been one of my favorite authors for a long time, and this might be the first collection I read that wasn’t specifically for young readers. Some of the future-set stories like “Harrison Bergeron” and “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” changed how I saw science fiction.

Welcome to the Monkey House introduced me to Vonnegut and to a love of short-story collections as a form, and it holds up remarkably well.

In an age of codified and tropey stories with uninspired characters and safe plots designed to satisfy whatever market drivers the Big Five publishers are pushing, Trump Sky Alpha gives me hope. It is not about aesthetics, or one-dimensional coffee shop, shirtless Brads, or conforming political views. It is bonkers, aggressive, and hilarious. 

In the aftermath of a nuclear war initiated by Trump, the “Orange Man”, an American journalist, finds herself in a containment zone, documenting the defunct internet’s wild humorous takes: viral memes and twitter’s heated exchanges. The journalist’s assignment soon uncovers references to an enigmatic figure, only known as Birdcrash, one who might know how to stop Trump from flying in a luxurious zeppelin for "the very best people who look terrific.” Yes, you read that right. 

Last but not least, this book is a fantastic and entertaining read.

It may be classified as fantasy, but it's full of history from biblical times to contemporary England, so I’m putting this book in the “hilarious history” section.

The idea of an angel and demon working together is as absurd as it gets; the humor is sharp and sarcastic; and the book is full of quirky takes and punchlines on history and folklore. 

I love this book, a classic from the 1960s, for its humanity and how much this young, inexperienced teacher cares about her students. She is pretty much thrown into the NYC public schools and struggles to stay afloat.

The book, written as a novel, is actually a collection of discarded scraps of paper from the classroom wastebasket—notes, doodles, memos, hall passes, student complaints. The young teacher expresses age-old dilemmas teachers face: “Am I making a difference? Do I get through? Do they care? Do they understand how much I care?”