100 books like Apples

This brutal, beautiful book with a powerful, authentic northern voice captured my attention. Set in County Durham, the story follows young Traveller John-John after he is released from a young offender’s institution for a violent crime and tries to turn his life around. Despite his good intentions, he is soon caught up in a fight with local drug dealers. 

I loved this book because it took an unflinching look at a community not often depicted in contemporary fiction and featured a complex, conflicted character (who loves dogs) who struggles to escape his past. 

The book is by an author I admire. He writes gritty, dark northern fiction that focuses on the fringes of society. Originally published by independent presses, he has gone on to be very successful, and as an independent northern author, I would love to emulate that career trajectory. 

I loved Eliza Clark’s debut novel, Boy Parts, and was keen to read her follow-up. Part crime fiction, part social critique, the author shines a light on the popularity of true crime stories and how we deal with tragedy in our communities. She also weaves the online world into her writing in a way that will be relatable to anyone (like me) who spends too much time on the internet and social media.

She has an original voice that reflects her relationship with North East England. Not many writers from this area make it into publishing, so I seek out the work of those who do, especially if they write northern stories.

Written by a disabled, northern author, this magical middle-grade novel has such a warm, compassionate voice, and I loved how it reflected the story’s locations, which are inspired by real places in North East England.

The story is full of magic and features a cast of disabled children who live in a lighthouse by the sea and get caught up in an adventure. I think it’s important for all kids to see themselves in fiction, and this book does a wonderful job of improving disability representation.

Although it’s aimed at children, there’s plenty for adults to enjoy, and I thought this was a beautiful book full of illustrations by a local artist, which helped me to picture the characters and setting.

I love literary fiction and stunning prose, and this book is full of gorgeous sentences that shine off the page. It deals with class issues and finding your own place in the world.

I’m from a working-class, deprived town close to the one featured in this novel. I related to some of the character’s concerns and struggles, particularly regarding the lack of opportunity in North East England. 

I was a huge fan of 99 Days by Katie Cotugno, so I knew I had to pick up this sequel.

Main character Molly is flawed, to the point where I wanted to throw the book across the room. But there’s no denying her pull toward the forbidden love interest, Gabe. What I admired most about this story is how author Katie Cotugno brought a series of unlikely events into the realm of plausibility.

If you’re into forbidden love, romance abroad, and a story you can’t put down, grab this one now!  

This Field Party series starter is my go-to when I need a good dose of Friday Night Lights, a splash of steam, and a heavy dose of drama. I mean, football meets love in bloom—can you get any more Southern that that? Main characters West and Maggie are both suffering through a recent/impending significant loss in their families, and this pain unites them on a deeper level than either has known before against the backdrop of a small Alabama town. 

How much do I love this hilarious, terrifying, completely bonkers carny show of a novel? Written and illustrated by Barry, a cartoonist, it opens with a suicide note by Roberta, a misfit teen with a busted-up face who’s left behind a rageful diaristic manifesto describing child abuse, theft, revenge, murder, and a cast of characters out of a circus nightmare.

I got whiplash, veering from stomach-cramping laughter to anxious dread, heartbreak, and complete wonder at the strange, freakish beauty of her prose, like finding chunks of gold in the trash. When I finished, I thought, WTF did I just read, and HOW TF did she do it? I really don’t know. But every few years, I re-read it to try and find out.

Despite high school freshman Melinda’s refusal to speak, I was immediately drawn into this contemporary (1999) novel by the pitch-perfect, first-person voice in which she tells her poignant story.

Melinda isn’t abandoned on a desolate island like Karana or exiled to a barren cave like Ayla but shunned by her friends after busting an end-of-summer party by calling the cops; her refusal to speak renders Melinda similarly isolated and remote.

I especially admire the way Anderson’s deft narration plays out the paradox of silence giving voice to revelation. As Melinda comes to terms with her devastating secret—having been raped by an upperclassman—she finally speaks up and breaks her silence. 

Sawkill Girls is so scary that I couldn’t read it before bed. In fact, I wouldn’t even bring it into my bedroom! But it’s also gorgeously written—eerie and atmospheric, with the most immersive worldbuilding. Its monster is terrifying, but the main characters—all girls—are so, so powerful. This is one of my top YA novels of all time. 

Full disclosure: Mariko’s cousin, Gillian, attended my old high school, and part of the appeal of this book for me initially was the fact that I recognised so many details from that world. Kimberley “Skim” Cameron is a would-be Wiccan goth attending an all-girls private school that’s gone into high-gear mourning over the death of the boyfriend of one of its students. It’s poignant and perceptive and darkly funny, if somewhat angst-heavy. This was one of my earliest introductions to graphic novels and what the form can uniquely offer.