My favorite books to read if you want to learn how to write nonfiction like a motherfu*ker

Any book by Larson would be a fit for this list, but I’ll stick with the one that brought me to the ball in the first place. When I first read Devil in the White City, I was blown away by how Larson is capable of taking an absolute mountain of dry research and shaping it into a page-turner that reads like the best fictive thriller. Larson so deftly recreates the past, you’ll begin to feel like you’re experiencing the sights and sounds of turn-of-the-century Chicago all around you. Even if only a fraction of the literary lessons rub off on you, your work will be better for it.

Mary Roach isn’t afraid to dive into the subjects of her books headfirst—and she doesn’t hide the fact that she does. While many nonfiction authors believe it to be uncouth to include themselves on the page, Roach hits the ground and reports from the scene, offering firsthand observations—and her perspective is what makes her work so brilliant. Especially because that perspective offers a human, and often hilarious, side to topics that often aren’t. Which is why I omitted the subtitle of this book until now: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. With Stiff, Roach proves that no subject is immune from her witty, wry, and ultimately fascinating reporting.

Jones first emerged in bookstores with his poetry collection Prelude to Bruise. While some may have been expecting another volume of poetry as a follow-up, he released a memoir—an utterly powerful telling of his life, “written at the crossroads of sex, race, and power.” While Jones’ journey alone makes for intense reading, his prose makes the experience wholly unique; a poet to the core, Jones imbues his sentences with such singular voice and style that you’re left in awe of his command of language—and the possibilities to reimagine your own sentences.

If there is a spiritual successor to Hunter S. Thompson, it’s LeDuff, whose blood pumps gonzo. As Publishers Weekly poignantly put it in a starred review, “Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist LeDuff writes with honesty and compassion about a city that’s destroying itself—and breaking his heart.” Seeking to make sense of his hometown, LeDuff gets his hands dirty—and returns to the page to document it with the gripping bravado of a barroom brawler.

The genesis of Orlean’s modern classic is a literary lesson in and of itself. Stashed in the seat pocket of an airplane, she found a copy of The Miami Herald, and a news brief about a man who had been arrested for stealing orchids from a swamp. The New Yorker agreed to send Orlean down to snoop around—and an article, and subsequently book, was born. The piece is equal parts character and subculture study, and Orlean masterfully brings telling details to the page that illuminate both in the most brilliant of ways. 

The book would go on to inspire the Spike Jonze/Charlie Kaufman film Adaptation—a fantastic reminder to always keep your radar for story firing on all cylinders. After all, it all started with a tiny newspaper clipping. It just takes the right writer to find it.