98 books like A Skeleton in the Family

This is the cleverest, funniest, best Sherlock Holmes homage ever. It’s Montana, 1893, and I’m watching the red-headed Amlingmeyer brothers, down-on-their-luck ranch hands, entertain themselves reading Holmes stories in Harper’s Weekly.

Big Red, the younger brother, is reading to his older brother, Old Red (all of 27). Old Red might be illiterate, but I’ll match his “detectifyin’” skills with Holmes’ any day. I love Big Red’s reluctant but loyal acceptance of his role as Watson as the two cowpokes deal with stampedes, mysterious deaths, and cowboys named Puddin-foot and Swivel-eye.

No matter what Big Red tells him, Old Red doesn’t quite believe the Holmes stories are fiction. But I believe Hockensmith’s stories are exactly what Mark Twain would have written if he’d come up with this brilliant idea.

Now I’m torn. Agnes Sharp and her housemates are delightful, but a friend of mine tells me that I am Joyce in this book. This series is one of the best I’ve read in the past few years, and this book is one of the best ones in the series.

I’ll gladly join septuagenarians Elizabeth (could she have worked for Scotland Yard?), Ibrahim (a psychologist), Ron (a brawling socialist organizer), and Joyce (gentle and perhaps not as naïve as she seems) at their posh retirement village as they discuss unsolved crimes each Thursday. And I’m definitely there to solve the murder of that local developer. No way the villain will get away from this brilliant gang of sleuths. 

I’m more likely to read mysteries with cats than with dogs, so when I enthuse over one of the latter, my recommendation can be trusted. I listened to this book, and it was love at first bite. It was my first earful.

The book is narrated by Chet, a failed police dog trainee. He partners with Bernie, a failing private eye, whom Chet sees as the best, bravest, smartest PI ever. Except for maybe where money is concerned or when it comes to things like Hawaiian shirts. Or Hawaiian pants. I’m with Chet on the Hawaiian pants. What was Bernie thinking? But I’ve never met a more loyal dog or well-meaning PI, and no matter what trouble they have along the way, Chet and Bernie win the day.  

I like a good mystery where seniors show what they’re made of. This book is as smart and funny as they come. I’d be happy to move into the house where Agnes and her friends have invented their own assisted living situation.

They’re adept at solving the problems that come with aging—finding someone to repair the stair lift, what to do with Lilith now that she’s died and they’ve moved her body into the shed to avoid awkward questions, solving the murder of the neighbor found dead on the lawn—all things I’d be happy to pitch in on. Some might call Agnes and her housemates batty; I call them delightful. 

I have liked all the Gamache books, but this one blew me away.

Not just another clever puzzle-solving entertainment (which it is). It’s also a compelling meditation on the ethics of free speech in our world today as we struggle with a pandemic and elect autocrats into seats of power.

And this isn’t just any free speech, but speech coolly advocating for euthanizing the elderly and disabled, because caring for them is too expensive, and a waste—they’ll die anyway and leave society with much-reduced ability to care for those with a real chance to survive.

This speaker is a reputable academic, popular, and with hard data to support her position. Which is why someone wants to kill her. Which is why Gamache is brought in.

I’ll never forget this book because it put me front and center of a murder trial from the perspective of the victim’s family.

Imagine sitting in court and looking into the eyes of the man who killed your nearest and dearest. What would that feel like? How would I even begin to process that experience?

I found this story really opened a whole new perspective in the genre of true crime writing. 

I truly believe Kiley Reid is a national treasure. Her second book centers around a small southern college town, and as someone who attended one of those myself, I can tell you that it perfectly captures that spirit. Even though the book is more character study than plot-forward, the southern sorority girls, the writing professor, and the overworked RA all come together to make an absolute mess in the end.

Effortlessly weaving multiple narrators and storylines together, this book is everything I want satire to be. Each character is rich and fully realized, often dabbling in doing “bad” things but never making you quite dislike them. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun watching everything go tits up.

Scarlett Clark is a bi serial killer who kills bad men. Carly Schiller is a queer student who just escaped an abusive father. Their storylines are equally gripping, with moments of unexpected intensity in both lust and fear. Layne Fargo creates a world so grounded in reality that, as a woman, it was painful to read at times—micro-aggressions, normalized inappropriate touching. Fargo doesn’t exaggerate it, she just exposes it as part of the narrative. Better yet, she gives a glimmer of equalization in the form of Scarlett who focuses her urge to kill in a direction that’s easy to root for, to want to read. It was wanting a serial killer to go on with her work that made this book and Scarlett a standout.

This memoir by a brave woman who stood up to both Presidents Trump and Putin is a revealing look at the inner workings of the Trump administration’s dysfunctional foreign policy. Fiona Hill bears an uncanny resemblance to my heroine, Delphine Roget. Born to a poor mining family in the North of England, she worked her way to the top through sheer intellectual brilliance and willpower. When push came to shove, she told the truth to Congress about Trump’s outrageous misuse of presidential power. But the book is much more than that. It is a searching examination of how capitalism has left whole communities behind as industries crumble, posing a threat to democracies worldwide.

Pictures from an Institution, to my mind, is the best novel written by a poet. It’s comical, biting, engrossing, moving, and flat-out entertaining. Once again, we are back in academia, at a woman’s college based loosely on Sarah Lawrence, and never has academia been skewered more amusingly. Regarding the college, one character muses, “You Americans do not rear children, you incite them; you give them food and shelter and applause.” The novel’s jokes—aphorisms, wisecracks, putdowns—come so fast and furious one could lose track of the story, if the story itself were not so interesting…and jovial. It’s funnier than throwing a hardboiled egg into an electric fan. Pictures from an Institution is also learned and wise and, underneath the drollery, there is a basic humanism that does not allow you to dismiss the book as mere satire.