Fans pick 100 books like Black Cherry Blues

This whole series always makes me smile–Mma Ramotswe remains one of the most hilarious main characters in any cozy mystery I’ve ever read. The crimes she comes up against are usually low-key, usually secondary to the backdrop of Botswana, and often solved by accident as much as design.

Precious Ramotswe’s commentary on Botswanan life is simply brilliant, but almost even more amusing is her sidekick, Grace Makutsi, who bumbles through her role as secretary-promoted-to-assistant-detective, and the interaction between the characters never fails to give me laugh-out-loud moments.

This whole series has to be the most feel-good series ever, and now I’m rediscovering it as an audio production of the radio series; it’s as heart-warming as a bright bunch of flowers on a dull day, a bowl of hot soup when you’re sick; a hot bubble bath when it’s snowing outside…I love it, love it, love it!

I admit I’m old enough that memories of the post-Vietnam War era had begun to fade (mercifully?) until this book brought them back into sharp focus.

Vientiane, Laos, in 1976, after the Communist takeover, is so vividly portrayed–from the scent of the “Crow Shit blossoms” on the banks of the Mekhong to the inertia of the socialistic hierarchy, to the chicken counter spies turning their neighbors in for their capitalistic extravagances. And I found the 72-year-old Laotian coroner protagonist so endearing!

His cynical outlook and visitations from the dead make him a singularly sage and unconventional hero who can roll with the wildly absurd changes of the new regime. 

I struggled to put this book on a crime novel list, but this is one of my favorite books of all time. At its heart, it’s a spy novel. It makes the list because the main character hunts bad agents–the internal affairs of the CIA.

The book opens with a murder crime scene in New York. If you haven’t heard about this book, it’s a true phenomenon. Many times, during book signings, I’ve been asked by readers if I knew of this book and how much they absolutely loved it. More importantly, though, they wanted me to tell them when the sequel was coming out. This book came out in 2014, and the sequel came out this year, ten years later. It garners 95k reviews on Amazon, which alone tells you all you need to know.

Elroy wrote many other books before he took on this epic noir crime novel (one in a quartet). He made his bones in writing, and it's evident in his skill level, story, and prose. Elroy excels in this novel (and the other three) in voice. And voice is the Big Kahuna in writing, it’s the everything in writing and Elroy has it in spades.

Another great addition to the above is the length (because you don’t want this book to ever end) and that it’s a historical novel that absolutely captures the time period and adds the historical nuance to all the characters.

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. 

It’s no secret that I have a real fondness for Alaska–its landscape, people, and singular quirkiness. Southeast Alaska, where this novel is set, is its own idiosyncratic microcosm.

The bars for serious drinking, the sideways rain, the grab bag of misfit characters–is John Straley at his best in this novel. In his no-holds-barred yet fond portrayal of Alaska, where his protagonist spends most of his days in an alcoholic but observant haze, the 49th state is like a walk-on character actor who ends up eating the scenery. 

This book is the quintessential crime novel that is the closest thing to working the tough streets of Los Angeles. I worked in South Central Los Angeles as a patrol deputy, so I have a basis for this statement. It is a masterpiece of writing capturing the emotions of what it’s like to age out on a job rife with sorrow, constant threat of the unknown, and lots of blood.

I wrote 38 books before I sold my first novel, The Disposables, which gives me the basis to rate the writing craft in this one. For crime readers, this is one not to be missed. Put it at the top of your to-be-read pile.

This book is a real sleeper. If you haven’t read it, drop what you’re doing and order it; you won’t be disappointed. This book, more than any other, reminded me of Raymond Chandler in voice, story, and character. I am baffled that this book is not more widely known.

I read this one and immediately ordered the others in this series. This author, under a pen name, wrote an absolute killer book called Five Decembers, which would have been book six on this five-book list. I absolutely loved this one.

I’ve long been a fan of James Lee Burke’s novels. His lyrical and likely heartfelt descriptions of Louisiana’s land, water, and people offset and illuminate the contrasting violence. Burke acknowledges the darkness in humanity and the possibility of redemption.

Into that mix goes Dave Robicheaux, the protagonist, who had his own ups and downs. Robicheaux can read between the lines and keeps a pretty clear eye on the truth. Here’s the opening sentence of this book, Robicheaux narrating in his own way:

“Years ago, in state documents, Vachel Carmouche was always referred to as the electrician, never the executioner.”

One of the funniest books I’ve ever read. Set in Paris in the 1920s, this mystery has everything I want in an escapist read: a suave detective, his sharpshooting, bad-ass girlfriend, a twisty, unpredictable plot, and fabulous, quirky characters.

Many are based on icons of the era: Josephine Baker, Picasso, Gertrude Stein, Hemingway, and all the usual Midnight in Paris celebrities. I first read this in my teens, and I still reread it for the madcap humor and view of Paris in the 1920s written by someone who was there.