100 books like Domestic Bliss and Other Disasters

I’m a sucker for a good title, and this one had me hooked before I read a word. But the fun doesn’t stop there with this cosy spy thriller. Reading this book left me breathless.

The pace never lets up as the hapless Dawson travels to Australia where, confused, he is chased by a colourful collection of Germans, Russians, Brits, and Aussies, all intent on getting their hands on the eponymous teapot. 

I love books where the underdog finds their inner hero, and Dawson–with some help from the resourceful Lucy–is such a character. I galloped through this witty, clever book, eager to discover the secret of that teapot. I wasn’t disappointed.

A delightful book, a complete treat, certainly the funniest I’ve read in recent years as well as one of the most original. How it wasn’t picked up by a major publisher is beyond me, especially given Sue Clark’s background in television comedy scriptwriting.

The way Sue manages so realistically to get inside the head of both the aged and yet ageless ex-fashion icon, Eloise, and Bradley, a south London council estate lad with dreams above his station, is astonishing. Writing in the first person is hard enough, but to do it so successfully for two such disparate characters is extraordinarily clever. It is no easy thing to make the reader believe so thoroughly in their highly unlikely, blossoming (business) partnership.

Clever, imaginative, and life-affirming.

This is a hugely entertaining, wickedly funny and deliciously satirical novel with a wide cast of characters. if the title puts you off, don't let it. An imaginative, slightly weird, definitely non-pc read which might not be to everyone’s tastes but was certainly to mine.

This is another fictional diary but different again. To say I enjoyed it is an understatement. This is a witty, engaging, satirical romp of a journal with laugh-out-loud moments, an empathetic everyman protagonist, a full cast of colourful supporting characters, and a rich background, mainly in Amsterdam.

I whipped through the book in a couple of days and was left hoping that we might find out what happens to Gerard "next year." All in all, thoroughly entertaining.

Bellamy is comfortably the most well-known of the authors here but still nowhere near as well-known as he deserves to be. Bellamy is sadly now no longer with us but this, his first book is his best-known and probably his funniest, although the rest of his canon is also well worth the effort.

There are few things funnier than the tale of the downtrodden male with high hopes and little to back those hopes up, and Bobby Booth’s is the funniest of the lot. Auberon Waugh liked it, and you can hardly have a better recommendation.

The on-target humour of this book helped get me through the lockdown. It is a comic novel about love, lust, and guerrilla dentistry in 1980s Leicester. How could I resist that? 

I found the main character–teenager Lizzie Vogel, the guerrilla dentist in question–to be a hilarious and compelling creation, filled with the arrogance and naïveté of youth, very much in the tradition of Adrian Mole. 

In fact, the book teems with entertaining, richly observed characters and absurd situations. Though there is plenty to laugh at, what impressed me most was Nina Stibbe’s gift for making her characters so real that, even while I was laughing at their antics, I felt great sympathy for them and their disappointments. 

I’ll never understand why humorous writing is less respected than the more literary kind. Yet, I believe creating characters that are both convincing and amusing and steering them through a complicated plot–without letting the humour flag–takes great skill. For me, this is what the author Stevyn Colgan achieves in his South Herewardshire books, the first of which is A Murder to Die For. 

I found the laughs just kept on coming as farce piled upon farce. As well as giving me a good chuckle, I relished the rural setting, a touching reminder of the splendors and eccentricities of English village life that I, for one, would be sad to lose.

A confession: Lissa Evans is one of my very favourite authors. I’ve greatly enjoyed all her books, and this one is a brilliant example. It’s crammed full of likeable and fallible characters–as well as some equally believable horrors–attempting to deal with the ridiculousness of life. 

Reading it, I felt I was never far away from a good laugh, either a chuckle-worthy turn of phrase or a riotous set piece. Yet, along with escaped city pigs, procreating giant snails, and porno-mag chomping tortoises, I loved that there is poignancy and even tragedy. So much so I found myself late at night worrying for the fate of some of her characters.

When Lynne Truss wrote this book around the turn of the new century, she thought it would be just for grammar nerds. It turned out people care about commas and millions of copies were sold. In the book, Truss doesn’t explain her title, but I will. The cover illustration features a panda, which eats shoots and leaves—as in bamboo and its vegetation. The title, though, is mispunctuated to say the bear first eats, shoots (as with a gun), then leaves the crime scene. Truss offers advice on using apostrophes, semi-colons, em dashes—my favorite—and other marks. Like many writers, I struggle with proper placement of possessives and pauses. Truss taught me a lot about how to best employ punctuation and not to use parentheses and periods to type boobs. 

Another book remarkable for its descriptions, The Weight of Feathers combines the real world with enough distance and faint magic to make everything in it shimmer. Not everything makes perfect sense, and not everything needs to, because in Anne-Marie McLemore’s rewriting of the classic Romeo and Juliet love story, the taste of aguas frescas and the clinking of wind chimes make the otherworldly seem perfectly plausible. The Weight of Feathers is the sort of book that made me want to live in its world, to be privy to the hidden magic. The love story unfolds gradually as the deep cultures and subtle, colorful fantasy steal away the senses.