Sunday'sShelf

I first picked up Brave New World because a friend promised she'd read the book — which had been on both of our lists for a while — alongside me. Funnily enough, despite months of persistent effort, she… didn't end up finishing (cough, Nina). This little anecdote is not to say that the book was bad by any means. On quite the contrary, Brave New World effortlessly cements itself as one of my FAVORITE dystopian novels of all time. The book is certainly meant to disturb the reader with a perverse society that is considered regular by its inhabitants. Huxley’s story is gripping and witty, driving the narrative into unexplored fictional territory.

Dual reactions to this book are not historically uncommon. In the 1930s, Huxley’s novel had evoked strong emotions on both ends for readers and critics. On one hand, many now-famous literary authors recognized Huxley's brilliance, such as George Orwell, who used Brave New World as direct inspiration for his quintessentially-western novels 1984 and Animal Farm. On the other hand, this novel was both criticized and banned for its obscenity and rejection of 1900s social norms. Regardless of their opinion, most readers were left shocked by the end of the novel.

Should you read Brave New World? A resounding yes from my end. It's the perfect mix of world building and surprising plot, perfectly devoid of clichés. If you can handle the sexual content, I think the story will leave you shocked and in deep thought. Although it's not horror, it's an iconic piece of dystopian literature that isn't afraid to explore the darkest parts of human nature.

We is a short novel, coming in at around 200 small pages. It poses a few interesting questions in the context of a dystopia: what is individuality? What is a “soul” in a logical world? Despite its expositional arc, it feels kind of long. I’m not sure whether it is because of the pacing, or whether the story already felt familiar to Brave New World, or because of its translation from Russian, but it didn’t excite me as much as other stories have. Still, its genius is undeniable. With immense brilliance and foresight, Zamyatin pioneered a field of literature that would classify the Western relationship with the Soviet Union for decades, upon decades, upon decades—and that is remarkably impressive. If not a piece read for enjoyment, it may just be a novel read full of awe and cultural importance.

Should you read We? If you enjoy books like Brave New World or 1984, We has a familiar feeling. A fair warning: We contains an obscene amount of mathematical references, and the language is a tad erudite. If you’re more interested in plot over form, We might not be for you. Still, We is an iconic and impactful piece of literature that I might recommend to the avid dystopian lover.

There are few books as immediately intriguing as The Stranger. What other authors accomplish with 80 pages is masterfully accomplished by Camus in 10, dragging the reader into a realm of mystery and curiosity, refusing to let go. When Meursault engages in a new relationship two days after his mother’s funeral, some dismiss it as a form of coping. Then the “murder” happens. Five bullets embedded in a man’s flesh are hard to dismiss. This leaves the reader questioning: is Meursault truly coping, or is there something more sinister at play?

I love The Stranger for its twisted honesty, its unafraidness to criticize society. A mix of mystery, identity, and justice, Camus’ work embodies much that I love about literature. While other novels condemn characters because of their protesting expression, Camus explores the lack thereof: Meursault appears almost devoid of traditional emotion. What follows I will not spoil!

Should you read The Stranger? To start, I owe The Stranger much of my literary interest. This absurdist novel, coming in at 144 pages, is an easy read even for those who have not read much. Such fascinating, twisted ideas are written into minimalist, digestible sentences. This does not make it any less gripping, with a strong narrative arc full with. That being said, the exposition is deeply personal—there is no confrontation except for that which happens in Meursalt’s small town. I would highly recommend The Stranger to anyone interested in kicking off a literary journey.

The Myth of Sisyphus is first and foremost an essay. There is little narrative plot except for in the references to other novels, such as Don Juan or Kafka’s masterpieces. However, it still tackles an interesting question. That is, if existence is meaningless, as assumed in absurdism (different from nihilism!), is suicide the answer? Albert Camus, who grew up between the two world wars, exemplifies the despair from relapsing into a second war. Although he is known for formalizing absurdism, a hopeless view on the life, Camus argues against suicide: living in the face of meaningless may have reason after all.

Should you read The Myth of Sisyphus? If you’re into philosophy or appreciate deep questions, by all means. But not if you’re expecting a compelling narrative, complex literary characters, or a plot. The Myth of Sisyphus is, quite simply, an profound essay on suicide.

The Trial is almost like a mystery. As the main character Josef uncovers more and more about the accusations placed against him, he reveals shocking and disturbing secrets. Indeed, Kafka’s point may be exactly that the court system can be so misconstrued and corrupted, it becomes nothing better than an animalistic ritual of punishment. And he portrays this point brilliantly, using uncertainty that left me in suspense the whole book.

Should you read The Trial? The Trial is a phenomenal follow-up if you have finished or enjoyed the disturbing nature of Kafka’s Metamorphosis. Both describe alienation from society and both portray humans in animalistic despair. If you’re interested in a powerful tale of the abuse of power—and how totalitarianism can manifest non-violently, integrated into law—this timely novel may prompt as many questions about today as a century ago.

Wuthering Heights is such a romantic novel. But it is far, so very far, from a typical romance. Brontë’s novel explores the downfall of a man whose love borders on obsession. The exposition is gripping, and the plot is enjoyably disturbing. I love Wuthering Heights because of its raw emotion, unparalleled by anything else I have read. While it is not science fiction, the depth of the deeply flawed characters rival, if not surpass, the masterpiece that is Shelley’s Frankenstein.

Should you read Wuthering Heights? Admittedly, it might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I strongly enjoyed Wuthering Heights. It was one of the first books I read trying to get back into reading, and the first half of the novel really stuck with me. If you’ve seen the 2026 movie adaptation of Wuthering Heights, I will say this: you either like the book, or the movie, but not both. The book is an exploration into the recesses of a human heart, while the movie forgoes the novel’s core racial motif in place of shallow sexual tension (you can tell which one I liked more). While it does require some setup (around 60 pages), the payoff is a story unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Also, if you give this a read, definitely google a family tree diagram.

Recursion is a fun read. Written in 2019, Crouch captures the contemporary imagination and anxieties of the 21st century. Billionaire oligarchy over technology? Of course. Parallel universes? Yes. Modern neuroscience pushed past all limits? 100%.

Underlying this science fiction is an amazing truth about memory. Memory is, according to all research in the last century, an imperfect combination of past experiences and current context. And yet, our own imperfect memories may as well be the most intimate “truth” there is about the world. If we remember a secret meeting that never happened, it is still true for us. That’s what Crouch plays on: what happens when entire lifetimes of memories are inserted into our brains? Now there are two sets of “truths” in our head, and which is more “true”?

What’s scary about Recursion is its underlying feasibility. We have already discovered the science behind erasing memories (if you’re interested, read about scopolamine). We also know how to implant false memories through language (Elizabeth Loftus). Is it so crazy, with the recent development of black box AI models, that we can induce a realistic memory (maybe even a full life) that never existed?

Should you read Recursion? If you’re interested in the summary, go on ahead. That being said, it is not a must-read on my list, but a fun one. It’s neither a large commentary on modern society nor a pillar of the literary world, but if you enjoy mind-bending science fiction, you might enjoy Recursion!

If it isn’t clear from the summary, The Bell Jar is a tough read. Sylvia Plath really does immerse the reader in Esther’s madness, highlighting burdensome relationships, cutthroat female standards, and a loss of direction that made me feel deeply distraught during my reading. Only read this book if you are in a healthy state of mind—to do otherwise would be adding fuel to the flame. At the same time, The Bell Jar masterfully illuminates what other authors typically fail to portray: a nuanced story of depression that powerfully expresses the overwhelming struggles of life. The fact that this work is inspired off of Plath’s own mental health crises and past suicide attempt make the story feel unsettlingly real. From a generation plagued by wars and disillusionment, The Bell Jar reflects a larger American crisis, one that Plath captures expertly.

Should you read The Bell Jar? This book will certainly not be everyone’s cup of tea. If you enjoy inner struggle, the horrors of humanity, feminism, or journeys into mental health, this book is perfect for you. But again: Do not read this book if you are not in a good state of mind, for Plath’s psychotic descriptions will only plague you further into the depths of the mind’s twisted recess.