Fans pick 99 books like A Distant Grave

In Black Harbor, Wisconsin’s most crime-ridden city, Morrissey has created a town that is a villain all on its own. A place no one wants to live. Hazel Greenlee has no choice.

An aspiring writer, Hazel is trapped in a less-than-perfect marriage and takes the only job she can find—as a police transcriber. But when her neighbor confesses to hiding the body of an overdose victim in a dumpster, Hazel sees the potential for a story that might help her break out of the frozen hell of Black Harbor.

Morrissey builds Hazel’s desperation, and the desperation of the town itself, with mounting tension so well drawn you can actually feel it in your bones and an ending so intense it leaves you breathless. 

I enjoy reading crime novels that feature other cultures or countries. Dark Pines (and the series that follows) whisked me off to deepest, darkest Sweden.

The main character, a local reporter called Tuva Moodyson, is a strong female lead. She’s young, feisty and tenacious. Her deafness makes her multidimensional, overcoming life’s challenges, without author Will Dean resorting to common tropes of crime fiction protagonists (e.g. cynical, alcoholic detective).

Dark Pines features a host of memorable and eccentric characters in a creepy and claustrophobic small town, giving this quirky book a Twin Peaks vibe. For me, the setting was a character in its own right – with the visceral descriptions of the dark pine forests.

The one thing I appreciate above all else in a novel is emotional gravitas. That feeling transcends time and place; the only thing that matters is what happens to the character(s) you care about. You feel your heart beating, and when you finally put the book down, all you can say is ‘wow.’

Stacy Willingham’s debut lingers long in the memory after the book is read. Her talent at describing setting is any writer’s dream, and her characters snuck into my heart and made me care deeply, all the way to the pulse-pounding conclusion. It is the best thriller I have read in the past half-decade, only challenged by her subsequent novels.

I love that the endless drought in the small Australian town of Kiewarra is as much a villain as the human antagonist in Jane Harper’s debut novel. The oppressive heat, the flies, and the smothering dust harbor their own brand of desperation and evil.

The human characters seem to struggle vainly against the burden of their own secrets and the forces of nature around them. All of Jane Harper’s novels make me feel like a stranger in a strange land, but in a dramatic, enlightening way. The Dry is Harper's first, and the best at this, in my mind. 

The opening of this book knocked me out, and I was hooked.

I usually veer toward literary, slower, familial dramas, but this book combined what I love in literary family dynamics with the frightening premise of an inexplicable disaster occurring in the outside world. The suspicion we were quick to possess about others during the early days of the pandemic is heightened to a new level with two couples pitted against each other, one preoccupied with the welfare and antics of their children.

I loved the construct that had even spouses second-guessing each other. The intensity of the situation brought out the worst and eventually the better sides of all the characters, a phenomenon that resonated as I read this book during the first year of the pandemic, at the same time rioters invaded our nation’s capital.  

Though I have read and relished all of Alice McDermott’s novels, Child of my Heart is my favorite. Theresa, age 15, is East Hampton’s most sought-after babysitter when her favorite cousin, eight-year-old Daisy, comes to spend the summer in this gorgeous coming-of-age novel. Though Theresa and Daisy share a magical world, Theresa eventually realizes the ongoing bruises on Daisy’s feet and body mean she is seriously ill. While the cousins intuitively conceal Daisy’s condition, Theresa becomes aroused by and wary of her sexual attraction to the father of Flora, a toddler she babysits. Through the haunting presence of death and her dawning sexuality for a much-older man, Theresa crosses into adulthood. 

First published in 1980, Gaywyck was the first historical gay gothic romance. Virga, whose day job for forty years was as photo editor, turns his extraordinary eye on turn-of-the-last century New York.

The tangled lives, dark secrets, and mad love – all conventions of the romance genre – are stood on their heads in this reimagining. “I realized genre has no gender,” Virga says, and set about cannily reversing roles and inverting tropes to fashion a puzzle wrapped in an enigma of requited and unrequited love.

Gaywyck stands the test of time and remains a modern classic.   

We both devoured Taffy Brodesser-Akner’s last book, Fleishman Is in Trouble, and the wonderful TV adaptation of the same name. So, when we saw that she was writing another one, we both not only hit the preorder button but reached out to her publisher to get advanced reader copies. The book doesn’t come out until July 9. Still, we’ve both already read it and can confidently say it’s a delightful summer read about a wealthy Jewish family, the Fletchers, grappling with grief, repressed trauma, and the sudden slipping away of their family fortune.

The book grabs you instantly with a violent kidnapping and then jumps forward and back in time to explore the psyches of each of the Fletcher children as they process what has become of their family in the wake of their grandmother’s death. And wait until you discover what the “Long Island Compromise” is. 

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Steinbeck is one of my favorite novelists (Willa Cather, the other) but boy did he run off the rails with this, his final book.

He describes an American society locked in irreversible decline, with everything getting worse and our polity doomed. Sixty years later the United States remains the envy of the world and almost every America today lives better materially, with more freedom and security, than almost everyone of 1961.

The novel is a reminder of the extent to which ideological negativity is ubiquitous in literature.

“Of all the kids in the seventh grade at Camillo Junior High, there was one kid that Mrs. Baker hated with heat whiter than the sun. Me.”

When I read that first line, I assumed The Wednesday Wars was going to be another shallow story with the typical conflict between a mean teacher and a student victim. But I was wrong. Completely wrong.

The Wednesday Wars will make you smile a real smile, not a teacher smile. It will make you laugh as you learn Shakespearean curses. It will make you cry when a student earns the high praise of “chrysanthemum” from a teacher who is no longer an enemy but a friend. This won’t make sense until you read the book, and it’s definitely worth reading this book.