Fans pick 100 books like Concrete Island

What could be more fun than Gods getting involved in city planning? Spy story wrapped inside a grand and mysterious history of once-supreme Gods now dormant (or not). Memorable characters. Don’t mess with the giant grunt Sigrud. Divine power with 6 Gods (light bearer, judge, warrior, seed-sower, trickster, and builder). Imagine holding a committee meeting with this group. Magical portals that enable back-and-forth between current gritty and past majestic city. A thought-provoking conclusion that speaks to worldwide conflict in real life today. 

This tightly-plotted murder mystery takes place in one of the most compelling imagined settings I’ve ever encountered: a double city somewhere in the Balkans where the inhabitants of each half are required by law not to see the inhabitants of the other half.

Equal parts Kafka and Philip K Dick, Miéville’s The City and the City offers a thought-provoking meditation on the haves and have-nots, as well as life in the Balkanized cities of the world, those “double places” where one-half of the population conspires not to notice the other half.

I loved the boldness of this book, as it does what most of these types of novels shy away from, and that is to let everyone in the world in on the knowledge of the loop, eventually.

In this book, once a character has looped back in time and changed things, everyone involved in the change catches up to the knowledge of the original version through “false memory syndrome.” The result is that by the end of the novel, the whole world seems to be conspiring to stop the protagonists in the most nerve-wracking last few chapters I can remember reading in a long time. 

I am a big fan of the author’s nuanced and powerful writing style. The best-written book on my list. Collection of short stories that interweave personal details and idiosyncrasies with broader themes and omens. In “Scenic Route” (‘they have me up hard against the hood of the Cadillac Escalade, which is covered in the dust and dead insects of a thousand back roads’) and “Fairground” (‘school buses lined up like ducks at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn green, the faces of the secured population looking through the windows with indifference and resignation’), individuals dealing with internal tumult confront in matter-of-fact ways the stark presence of territories and people divided by check-point partitions. Sectoral partitions, segregated populations. Stark divisions in urban life normalized and routinized.

This is the book that launched a thousand essays about gentrification in urban neighborhoods and reinvented the term “revanchism” for use in critical geography.

From the French noun revanche, revanchism refers to a policy or movement focused on reacquiring a nation's lost territory. The Revanchist City as it became known after Smith’s book, describes city residents under siege by their own city governments.

Starting with a description of the battles over who could use Tompkins Square Park in New York City’s Lower East Side in the 1980s and 90s, and moving on to other case studies (some global), Smith shows how cities are transformed into zones of international capital investment and class privilege through neoliberal policies enacted at the municipal level. 

Through the skillful interweaving of personal experiences mixed with scholarly observations and references, Kern catalogs all the ways that cities have historically been designed for men by men.

Stories all women recognize, like the extra costs of keeping oneself safe in the city, or the boundaries imposed on women with young children who can’t get strollers up staircases or into trolley cars, or the discomfort with dining alone at restaurants, remind readers of how urban planners could and must do better.

Kern is attentive to race, ability, and gender in her observations and references as she seeks to balance the here-and-now with pragmatic solutions for future feminist cities capable of serving everyone equally. 

Through devastating stories of unoccupied housing developments in China and Spain, gargantuan mansions built mostly underground the streets of London, and pencil-thin skyscrapers in New York where residents never have to see each other, Soules explains how “architecture has become finance and finance has become architecture.”

In its relentless pursuit of profit, capital has created the conditions for the built environment to be redesigned and standardized for easier trading as cash liquidity. This movement since the 1980s explains both the rampant urbanization of the world and the increasing canyon between the haves and have-nots. 

This pocket-sized book of a mere 63 pages can be read in a couple of hours and has a lasting impact.

Fraser, a feminist philosopher I was lucky to take a class with once in graduate school, explains the political and economic conditions that frame the near-constant anxiety one feels daily as witnesses to near-constant national and global crises.

We are all living through a “hegemonic gap;” that is, a profoundly unsettling transformation between the failure of agreed upon political authorities (she labels this progressive neoliberalism) and the lack of any clear future direction. In the mix is the global rise of proto-fascist populism, environmental disaster, increasing wealth gaps, and violence and war.

What can guide us out of this mess? That is the subject of the last few pages… 

This was the first book I ever pulled from the big kids’ shelves at our library. I read it in the big chair in the den until Mother chased me outside with dire threats that I was ruining my eyes. 

Then I read among straw bales and a heap of yard cats until nightfall lured the cats away. Then I read in bed until Mother threatened further direness if I didn’t turn off my light. Then I read by moonlight until I fell asleep and woke again the next day to read more.

A shipwreck, an island, and a horse. A little barn in the suburbs. These were the opposite of my world. During the hours I spent with this book, I became an escape reader.

I love how this book elevates lying into an art form. Following the convention of the era, Defoe published the work as if it were written by its main character, Robinson Crusoe. Crusoe stands out from its peers for the subtlety of its mimicry. I envy how natural and easy Defoe makes writing look.

The book reveals the novel’s roots in other genres, such as satire, journalism, religious writing, and personal narrative. Defoe excelled at all of these, and I find the strange convergence mesmerizing. It’s possible to see the outlines of these earlier traditions even as something like a modern novel comes into view.

With apologies to Oprah and James Frey, this book helps me remember that the best writers have always been a bit loose with the truth.