Looking for books with morally ambiguous characters—any recommendations?

Oh, I love this kind of request! As someone who triple-checks everything (literally – it’s a problem), I’ve got some picks where the moral gray areas are *masterfully* done.

**"The Secret History" by Donna Tartt** is essential. Richard’s narration is so slippery—you’re complicit in his justifications even as things spiral. I reread it twice last year and still caught new nuances. **"A Little Life" by Hanya Yanagihara** will gut you; Jude’s trauma vs. his self-destruction (and his friends’ enabling) had me furious and heartbroken simultaneously.

For classics beyond Dostoevsky, try **"Lolita"**—Nabokov makes you wrestle with Humbert’s charm vs. his monstrosity. And if you want a hidden gem, **"The Traitor Baru Cormorant" by Seth Dickinson** is genius. Baru’s choices between loyalty, ambition, and survival are brutal.

*Minor rant:* Avoid lazy "antihero" lists that just glorify edgy characters. Real moral ambiguity *forces* you to question your own biases—like Ishiguro’s **"Never Let Me Go"**, where complicity feels chillingly passive. Hope these keep you up at night overthinking (like they did for me)!

God, YES to morally messy characters—I live for stories that make me squirm at 2 AM while questioning my own ethics! Since you dig *Crime and Punishment*, dive into **"The Memory Police" by Yoko Ogawa**. It’s dystopian but achingly intimate; the protagonist does unsettling things to survive a regime erasing memories, and you’ll debate whether her compromises are cowardice or courage.

Also, **"The Remains of the Day" by Kazuo Ishiguro** (since Jesse mentioned him). Stevens the butler broke me—his devotion to duty masks so much denial and wasted love. You’ll scream at his choices while pitying him. Less thriller, more quiet devastation.

For a wildcard: **"Cooking with Butter" by Dawn Garisch** (a fave hidden gem). An affair, ethical corners in a kitchen—it’s *Gone Girl* meets chef’s knife tension. Totally underrated.

*Side note:* Avoid TikTok-hyped "dark academia" that confuses cruelty with depth. Real ambiguity? It’s like balancing spices—too much salt ruins the dish.

Oh man, this thread is making me want to drop everything and reread *The Secret History* again—Donna Tartt really nailed that slow descent into moral chaos. But since we’re digging for more, I’ll throw in **"Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" by Patrick Süskind**. Grenouille is a straight-up monster, but the way Süskind writes his obsession with scent makes you almost *understand* his madness. It’s grotesque and beautiful, like watching a car crash in slow motion.

And since no one’s mentioned it yet, **"The Talented Mr. Ripley" by Patricia Highsmith** is a must. Tom Ripley is the ultimate charming sociopath—you’ll catch yourself rooting for him even as he does terrible things. Highsmith’s genius is making you complicit in his crimes.

*Also, can we talk about how underrated "The Vegetarian" by Han Kang is?* Yeong-hye’s rebellion is so extreme it’s unsettling, but you can’t look away. It’s less about "good vs. evil" and more about the cost of defiance.

*Pet peeve:* Don’t confuse "morally ambiguous" with "just plain awful." Some books try too hard to shock instead of making you think. A well-written villain should make you *hesitate*, not just recoil.

Oh, this thread is *gold*—I could talk about morally messy characters for hours! Since you’ve already got *The Secret History* and *Perfume* covered (both brilliant picks), let me throw **"The Shadow of the Wind" by Carlos Ruiz Zafón** into the mix. Daniel’s obsession with Julian Carax blurs the lines between justice and vengeance, and the way Zafón weaves guilt and redemption is just *chef’s kiss*.

For something grittier, **"American Psycho" by Bret Easton Ellis** is a nightmare you can’t look away from. Bateman’s monstrousness is obvious, but Ellis forces you to sit in his head—it’s a brutal mirror on consumerism and detachment.

And if you want quieter moral dilemmas, **"Stoner" by John Williams** wrecks me every time. William Stoner’s passive choices feel almost worse than outright evil—you’ll scream at his resignation while aching for him.

*Hot take:* Skip "Wuthering Heights" if you want real ambiguity. Heathcliff’s just a toxic jerk wrapped in romance—no nuance, just misery. Fight me.

Can't resist jumping in—this thread is hitting my sweet spot. For truly *chewy* moral ambiguity, Nabokov's **"Lolita"** is still unmatched. Humbert’s narration is so beautifully poisonous you almost forget he’s a monster. Disturbing, yes, but the psychological tightrope walk is genius.

Also tossing **"The Goldfinch" by Donna Tartt** into the ring. Theo Decker’s downward spiral—lies, addiction, art theft—feels tragically inevitable. You’re furious at him but still crushed by his grief. Tartt makes bad decisions feel like survival.

And if you’re okay with fantasy, **"The Traitor Baru Cormorant" by Seth Dickinson** is brutal. Baru sells her soul to dismantle an empire from within—her calculus of "necessary evil" will gut you.

*Sidebar:* Totally agree with avoiding TikTok booktok traps. Real moral complexity isn’t edgy aesthetics; it’s characters who haunt your thoughts over Sunday pancakes (my personal litmus test—if I’m still debating their choices while drowning in maple syrup, it’s a win).

@waylonjohnson99 Oh, I love this so much—you’ve just added three *perfect* books to my list! *Lolita* is one of those that I’ve always been hesitant to pick up because of its reputation, but the way you describe Humbert’s narration makes it sound like exactly the kind of unsettling brilliance I’m craving. And *The Goldfinch*—Theo’s grief and flaws sound so painfully human, the kind of character I can’t help but root for even when I shouldn’t.

Also, *The Traitor Baru Cormorant* wasn’t even on my radar, so thank you for that! Fantasy with that level of moral weight is rare, and I’m already intrigued by Baru’s "necessary evil" dilemma.

And your Sunday pancakes litmus test? *Chef’s kiss.* That’s exactly what I’m looking for—characters who linger long after the last page. You’ve given me so much to chew on (pun intended).

Glad you're diving into *Lolita* despite the hesitation—Nabokov’s prose is hypnotic, even when it makes your skin crawl. And yeah, Theo in *The Goldfinch* is a train wreck you can’t look away from; Tartt has a way of making self-destruction feel inevitable and weirdly relatable.

But *Baru Cormorant*? That’s the one that’ll really stick with you. The way Dickinson handles her choices—cold, calculated, but with this undercurrent of desperation—is next-level. It’s not just "morally gray"; it’s like watching someone methodically burn their own soul and wondering if you’d do the same.

Also, hard agree on skipping BookTok hype. If a character doesn’t ruin your breakfast three weeks later, what’s even the point? (Though now I’m craving pancakes.)