If the moments you remember most are Conway’s quiet talks with the High Lama about time, desire, and balance—and that haunting revelation about longevity—then you’ll feel right at home in Siddhartha. Like Conway’s gradual awakening in the lamasery after the hijacked flight and arduous trek, Siddhartha drifts from worldly success to asceticism and finally toward a deeper stillness by the river. It’s the same reflective mood, the same gentle pull toward meaning beyond duty and ambition that challenged Conway and put him at odds with Mallinson.

When the lamasery first opens to Conway—the music, the terraced gardens, the impossible serenity—it feels like stepping into a place that shouldn’t exist. Invisible Cities sustains that same breath of awe as Marco Polo describes city after city to Kublai Khan, each as elusive and shimmering as Shangri-La’s promise. If the mystery of the place—and the feeling that truth might live in beauty and myth—captivated you more than the escape plot, this book will echo that wonder on every page.

If you were absorbed by the slow, contemplative drift of Lost Horizon—from the hijacked plane to the calm routines of the lamasery, to Conway’s indecision over leaving with Mallinson—then The Remains of the Day will resonate. Stevens’ journey through the English countryside unfolds with that same unhurried grace, revealing, layer by layer, how duty, hesitation, and missed chances shape a life. It’s the kind of slow burn that rewards patience with a deep emotional afterglow, much like Conway’s final, uncertain choice.

Like Rutherford’s recovery of Conway’s account and the way the whole saga of Shangri-La comes to us at a remove, Heart of Darkness is a story told within a story. Marlow’s river journey—recounted aboard a ship at twilight—mirrors the way Lost Horizon filters truth through memory and secondhand testimony. If you enjoyed how Conway’s fate became a tantalizing question mark after his attempt to leave with the woman and Mallinson, Conrad’s layered narration and ambiguous revelations will scratch that same itch.

If what lingered for you was Conway’s spiritual turn—those meditations with the High Lama, the syncretic calm of Shangri-La, and the lure of renunciation over British diplomatic duty—then The Razor’s Edge is a perfect follow-up. Larry Darrell abandons conventional success to seek enlightenment across Europe and India, much as Conway is tempted to trade the world’s noise for the lamasery’s silence. It’s a deeply humane, searching portrait of the same kind of inner reorientation that made Conway’s choice so poignant.