Harper Lee’s classic novel hinges on one of American literature’s most direct lessons in empathy, delivered by Atticus Finch: “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view… until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”
Through the eyes of his daughter, Scout, readers witness this principle in action. The novel constructs a moral education in compassion, urging the reader to apply this lesson not only to Tom Robinson, a Black man falsely accused of a crime, but also to the reclusive and misunderstood Boo Radley.
Lee masterfully demonstrates how empathy is an active, imaginative practice—a conscious choice to see the humanity in others, especially when prejudice obscures it.
R. J. Palacio engineers empathy through a powerful narrative structure. The story centers on Auggie Pullman, a boy with a severe facial deformity attending a mainstream school for the first time.
While Auggie’s perspective is central, the novel intentionally shifts to the viewpoints of his sister, his new friends, and even those who are cruel to him. This device dismantles a single, pitying view of Auggie and instead builds a complex, three-dimensional world of interconnected experiences.
By inhabiting the minds of multiple characters, the reader is forced to understand their individual fears, motivations, and moments of compassion, revealing that empathy isn’t just for the person who suffers most visibly, but for everyone navigating their own struggles.
Narrated by Death itself, this novel offers a profound and unconventional exploration of empathy. Set in Nazi Germany, the story follows Liesel Meminger, a young girl who finds solace from the horrors of her world by stealing books and sharing their words with her neighbors and the Jewish man hidden in her basement.
Death’s perspective is not ghoulish but weary, detached, and ultimately compassionate, struck by the beauty and brutality of humanity.
This unique framing device allows readers to see small acts of kindness, love, and resistance as monumental achievements in the face of overwhelming darkness, fostering a deep empathy for characters who use stories to maintain their humanity.
Told through the progress reports of Charlie Gordon, a man with an IQ of 68 who undergoes an experimental surgery to make him a genius, this novel presents a heartbreaking study of empathy from multiple angles. As Charlie’s intelligence skyrockets, readers witness his dawning awareness of how he was previously mocked and pitied.
Simultaneously, as he surpasses the intellect of those around him, he experiences a new, profound form of isolation.
The novel forces the reader into a complex empathetic position: we feel for the "ignorant" but content Charlie of the past, the brilliant but lonely Charlie of the present, and the future Charlie who understands his inevitable decline.
It is a powerful examination of human dignity and our capacity to extend compassion to those whose minds work differently from our own.
Empathy is generated in the gap between a child's limited understanding and the reader's horrifying awareness. The novel is narrated by five-year-old Jack, who has spent his entire life held captive with his mother in a single, small room.
For Jack, "Room" is the entire world, and his descriptions are innocent, literal, and devoid of the terror his mother experiences. This narrative choice forces the reader to actively interpret events, translating Jack’s simple observations into the grim reality of their situation.
We are made to empathize not only with Jack’s unique worldview but, more intensely, with his mother’s silent resilience, her immense love, and the psychological trauma she endures to protect him.
This novel offers a masterclass in building empathy not through shared emotion, but through radical understanding. Narrated by Christopher Boone, a fifteen-year-old with Asperger's syndrome, the story is presented through his logical, literal, and often dispassionate lens.
He struggles to interpret social cues and human emotions, yet he meticulously documents the world as he sees it. By immersing us in Christopher’s cognitive processes, Haddon challenges the reader to set aside their own neurotypical assumptions and see the world through a different operating system.
The empathy we develop for Christopher comes from appreciating the courage and effort it takes for him to navigate a world that feels chaotic, illogical, and overwhelming.
Kazuo Ishiguro explores a quiet, haunting form of empathy through the resigned narration of Kathy H. She recounts her childhood at a seemingly idyllic English boarding school with her friends, Ruth and Tommy. The novel’s power lies in its slow, subtle reveal of the children’s true purpose and their designated fate.
The characters’ quiet acceptance and their attempts to find meaning, love, and dignity within a system designed to deny them their full humanity create a profound sense of sorrow and compassion.
Ishiguro forces the reader to empathize with what is left unsaid and undone, examining how we value human life and the quiet desperation of those deemed less than whole.
In this Pulitzer Prize-winning masterwork, Toni Morrison demands a deep and challenging form of empathy. The novel explores the legacy of slavery through the experiences of Sethe, a woman haunted by the traumatic memories of her past, which manifest in the form of a ghost.
Morrison’s narrative is non-linear and fragmented, forcing the reader to piece together Sethe’s story just as she does. This is not passive empathy; it requires the work of confronting brutal truths and understanding how personal trauma is inextricably linked to collective, historical suffering.
Beloved makes the reader a witness to the unbearable weight of a past that refuses to die, building a bridge of understanding to an experience that is almost beyond comprehension.
This novel examines empathy as it is born from guilt, betrayal, and the agonizing pursuit of redemption. The story follows Amir, a boy from a privileged Pashtun family in Kabul, and his fraught friendship with Hassan, the son of his father’s Hazara servant.
After a cowardly act of betrayal, Amir is haunted for decades by his failure to protect his loyal friend. The novel immerses the reader in Amir's profound sense of shame, and his difficult journey to atone for his past becomes the central empathetic arc.
Hosseini skillfully explores how empathy is not always a gentle virtue but can be a painful, motivating force that drives us to confront our worst selves and seek forgiveness.
Through the eyes of a non-human narrator, this novel poses profound questions about the nature of empathy itself. Klara is an "Artificial Friend," a highly observant solar-powered android purchased to be a companion for a sickly teenager.
With unwavering devotion and a uniquely logical yet compassionate perspective, Klara studies human behavior, trying to understand the nuances of love, loss, and loneliness. The reader’s empathy is directed toward this artificial being who tries so earnestly to comprehend and alleviate human suffering.
Ishiguro uses Klara’s perspective to refract our own emotions, making us question whether empathy is a uniquely human quality or a function of profound observation and selfless care.