Last week, I wrote about some of literature’s comedic or part-comedic novels. This week, I’ll flip that to discuss some of the saddest novels. Given that I covered this topic in a post eight years ago, I’ll focus on novels I’ve read since then — whether those books were published before or after 2018.
Of course, sad novels are not always 100% bleak; they perhaps contain some happier moments and/or semi-optimistic endings. But they’re downbeat overall.
Kristin Hannah’s excellent fiction can certainly leave a reader shaken. For instance, her 1970s-set novel The Great Alone (2018) is a depressing look at a Vietnam War veteran living in the Alaskan wilderness and how his post-traumatic stress wreaks havoc on himself, his wife, and their teen daughter.
Elin Hilderbrand’s also-excellent fiction is considered somewhat “lighter” than Hannah’s, but she does often wrestle with major personal and societal issues. One of Hilderbrand’s more melancholy novels is 28 Summers (2020), about a cancer-stricken woman who had a longtime one-weekend-a-year affair with her soulmate while she and him lived separate family lives the rest of the time. A superb book amid the sorrow.
In-between the two above novels arrived Colson Whitehead’s partly 1960s-set The Nickel Boys (2019), a heartbreaking look at abuse in a Florida reform school and at racism in general. Whitehead’s earlier The Underground Railroad (2016) — which unfolds in 19th-century slavery times — is another very good novel that will leave readers morose. Both Whitehead books won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction.
Barbara Kingsolver’s later Pulitzer winner Demon Copperhead isn’t all dispiriting, but the scourge of opioid addiction and the poverty depicted in the 2022 novel leave readers dejected even as they’re impressed with the author’s modern reimagining of Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield.
Moving to some older novels I’ve read since 2018, we have Michael Crichton’s 1990 sci-fi thriller Jurassic Park in which the hubris of using DNA to recreate living dinosaurs in the 20th century results in lots of destruction by those out-of-their-element dinos.
Twenty-five years earlier, there was John Edward Williams’ 1965 Stoner novel about a farm-raised boy who becomes an English professor but lives a personal life marked by an unhappy marriage and other disappointments. Again, a really good novel amid the sorrow.
Another 1965 release was James Leo Herlihy’s Midnight Cowboy (better known for the 1969 movie adaptation) about a naive Texan’s odyssey in New York City and the discouraging experiences of he and his down-and-out, ill-fated friend.
In 1957 came Nevil Shute’s On the Beach, about Australians waiting to die from a deadly wave of nuclear war-caused radiation heading their way. Almost any apocalyptic/dystopian novel would be eligible for this post.
Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice (1912) is exquisitely written and set in one of the most beautiful cities on the planet, but the plot is full of unrequited obsession — and then comes the cholera outbreak.
In 1833, Alexander Pushkin’s novel-in-verse Eugene Onegin was published after appearing in serial form between 1825 and 1832. A depressingly brilliant work filled with boredom, arrogance, selfishness, an ill-fated duel, a missed romantic opportunity, and more.
Among the sad novels I mentioned in my 2018 post were Andre Dubus III’s House of Sand and Fog (1999), Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things (1997), Toni Morrison’s Beloved (1987), Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa’s The Leopard (1958), Erich Maria Remarque’s Spark of Life (1952), George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949), Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth (1905), Thomas Hardy’s Jude the Obscure (1895), Emile Zola’s Germinal (1885), George Eliot’s The Mill on the Floss (1860), Mary Shelley’s The Last Man (1826), and Sir Walter Scott’s The Bride of Lammermoor (1819).
Your thoughts on this post, and examples of sad novels you’ve read?
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Dave Astor on Literature 
Dave…. sad novels on your birthday? I thought you’d have books. with birthdays in them. I will have to go away now and have a think!
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Thank you, Shehanne! You’re right — a weird juxtaposition that I should have avoided by flipping things to write about sad novels last week and funny novels today. Didn’t plan ahead. 🙂 But at least Misty the cat will be back next week to do his every two-month comedic guest post. I hear him tapping on his computer keyboard now…
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It says much about my reading preferences that I’ve read most – but not all – of the older, Classic, texts you mention above, Dave, and few if any of the more modern. You’ve got some of my all-time favourites there, ‘The Mill on the Floss’ since it helped me grow up aged 14 and never lets me re-read it without crying my eyes out at the end. ‘The House of Mirth’ makes me sad and angry in equal quantities; a brilliant story. I’ll have to sleep on the idea to expand your list, but I’ll go into the regions of shamelessness over a comment I received from a reader of my debut novel ‘Fairytales Don’t Come True’: “I cried my eyes out, on a plane full of strangers. So embarrassing” she said. Proud doesn’t cover it. Happy Birthday again, Dave, and catch you again soon. 🙂
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Thank you, Laura!
I hear you — at one point I also had read many more long-ago classics than modern novels. Now it’s the opposite.
“The Mill on the Floss” is a superb novel, but, yes, really sad overall. One really feels for Maggie Tulliver. As well as for Lily Bart in the devastating “The House of Mirth.”
Congratulations on that reader comment! Evoking strong emotions in readers is an author’s dream.
And thanks again for the birthday wishes! 🙂
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When I was 13 or 14, my class was assigned OF MICE AND MEN. I had read books that made me cry because a beloved pet died (think of OLD YELLER), and I had cried through the scene in LITTLE WOMEN where Beth dies, but I was used to mainly happy endings. I could not believe how horribly sad OF MICE AND MEN was–I remember crying until my face was swollen. I still think it is one of the saddest books I have ever read, and I will never forget the shock it produced in me. It wasn’t just reading a sad book; it was realizing at quite a young age how completely unfair and tragic life was for many people.
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Thank you for the comment, Kim! Sorry about the very sad memory; John Steinbeck could of course get pretty grim in a lot of his often-masterful work — which is especially hard on school-age readers. A great/sobering point that young readers can become very upset not only at literary content itself, but that content sadly helps illustrate how difficult things can be for many real-life people.
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Dave, among the books you’ve mentioned, I’ve read The Great Alone, Demon Copperhead, On the Beach, Beloved, and Nineteen Eighty-Four. I’ve also read My Sister’s Keeper, mentioned by Smitha. All memorable stories, long after closing the pages of the book. I’ve found that sad stories have an uncanny way of grabbing my attention and keeping me hooked to the end. Perhaps, it’s my yearning for a happy ending or redemption in the face of life’s trials.
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Thank you, Rosaliene! Great that you’ve read “The Great Alone,” “Demon Copperhead,” “On the Beach,” “Beloved,” “Nineteen Eighty-Four,” and “My Sister’s Keeper.” Sad books can definitely hook readers even as those readers might need to have a box of tissues handy. And, yes, sometimes sad novels offer some hope by the end.
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“Midnight Cowboy” is one of my favorite books, Dave, and the ending was very sad! The disillusionment in that book was so relatable and eye-opening, too. As an aide, I’ll never think of a Florida orange juice sign in the same way again!
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Thank you, Ada! You’re so right that the “Midnight Cowboy” ending is very sad (that bus ride to Florida 😦 ) — and most of the rest of the novel is not happy either. But, yes, a great book.
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Thank you for yet again an excellent topic and post! I see that there are many sad books waiting for me to read. Though I have already read Stoner, and loved it.
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Thank you, Thérèse! It’s a shame “Stoner” isn’t better known and more lauded. It’s a mesmerizing novel.
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I’ll add some of these to my list, but I’ll add Margaret Laurence to yours. Her Stone Angel qualifies, but so do some of her other works. Maggie
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Thank you, Maggie! I’ve never read Margaret Laurence, and just put her on my to-read list to give her work a try sometime this year. I appreciate the recommendation!
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We just finished watching The Count of Monte Cristo on Masterpiece Theater. I read the book many years ago in high school. It’s sad because Edmond and Mercedes don’t end up together at the end. A lot of people dislike that ending. But at least he finds love with someone else.
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Thank you, Marie! “The Count of Monte Cristo” — a fantastic novel — definitely has many sad elements: the thwarted romance you mentioned as well as the frame-up, the very long prison term, etc. Plus some more pleasing elements, including the Edmond Dantes/Abbe Faria prison friendship, the just retributions, etc.
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Thanks for sharing this long list, which also touches on a crucial point: the best sad novels aren’t simple exercises in misery; they use pain to highlight our humanity, and the consequences of our choices.
Here are two of the tragic Italian novels I’ve read:
I Malavoglia by Giovanni Verga
The Garden of the Finzi-Contini by Giorgio Bassani
🌹🌹🌹I take this opportunity to wish you a Happy Birthday here too.🌹🌹🌹
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Thank you, Luisa! I agree with your very wise words in your comment’s first paragraph. The better sad novels give us at least some inspiration and at least some thought-provoking content amid the misery.
I appreciate the two book examples, and the birthday wishes! 🙂
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In addition to the list you mentioned are ‘Fault in our stars’ by John Greene, My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult, The Beekeeper of Aleppo, Lane and Able by Jeffrey Archer. These books made me cry… I didn’t realise I had read so many tragic books. I like to keep away from them because there’s enough tragedy around that’s thrown at you whether you like it or not.
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Thank you, Smitha! I’ve read “The Fault in Our Stars” and “My Sister’s Keeper,” and I agree that they are both very sad. Severe medical problems in each novel, and one very much wonders about the morality of what the parents did to their younger daughter in Jodi Picoult’s book. Also, I totally understand your reluctance to read too many sad novels when there’s so many sad and infuriating things happening in real life. 😦
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Yes, ‘My Sister’s Keeper’ was the saddest. I wept like a child when I read the book. I felt bad for both the sisters, their predicament, the parents. It was a catch – 22 situation.
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So true, Smitha. No ideal choices. The older daughter was very ill and the parents were desperate and the poor younger daughter was sort of the “solution.” And then that added tragedy near the end of the novel. Certainly one of the most depressing 21st-century books out there. 😦
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Hey Dave, great post. I found The Great Alone, Demon Copperhead, and House of Sand and Fog very memorable for this category. Jude the Obscure still awaits on my husband’s bookshelf. I will get to it eventually as I loved Hardy’s other novels.
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Thank you, Jennifer! We are definitely in agreement about “The Great Alone,” “Demon Copperhead,” and “House of Sand and Fog” — all sad and all memorable.
Thomas Hardy IS a compelling novelist, and I think “Jude the Obscure” is one of his best.
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So my husband says too!
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Ah, two enthusiastic recommendations. 🙂
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I’ll go with a classic: Madame Bovary. Of more recent vintage, I found The Vixen Amber Holloway by Carol LaHines very sad (although it’s billed as a black comedy).
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Thank you, Liz! “Madame Bovary” is indeed a sad novel — written very well, of course. And I guess there can be a thin line between a book that’s a black comedy and a book that’s just plain downbeat, partly depending on how skillful the author is.
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You’re welcome, Dave! In the case of The Vixen, very skillful!
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Glad to hear that, Liz. I suppose that as skillful as an author might be, different readers might react to a black comedy novel as a black comedy novel — or not.
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Many thanks, Dave, for your great sad books you presented here. As STONER by J. Williams was unputdownable for me and I even wrote a post about it, I went back to reread it and saw that the fact that Stoner didn’t fight for his beloved daughter made me most sad!
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Thank you, Martina! “Stoner” is very melancholy yet very compelling. A novel written so well. The title character is definitely a flawed man — sympathetic in some ways, not in others.
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:):)
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🙂
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One of the objectives of literary fiction is to show the human condition, so no wonder much of it is depressing.
Canadian literature (Canlit) is reputed to be especially grim, but I suspect this was common everywhere in the mid- to late 20th century.
One very well-written recent novel that shows resilience in a grim setting is The Weight of Snow and Regret by Elizabeth Gauffreau
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Thank you, Audrey! Great point — literature is usually inspired by life, and life is often sad for many people.
I haven’t noticed Canadian fiction being grimmer than fiction from elsewhere, but who knows? Canada is definitely a country that does a lot less harm to other countries than the U.S. does.
And I appreciate you mentioning Liz and her great writing. Resilience in the face of sorrow is certainly to be admired.
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