62 books like Down the River Unto the Sea

Although the film version is better known, Dickey’s gut-wrenching saga of four men who decide to take one last canoe trip in the remote North Georgia wilderness is one of my favorite novels of all time. I love Dickey’s vivid prose, which is at times poetic but never obtrusively so.

Simply put, To me, this book represents thriller storytelling at its finest.

This book grabbed me by the throat and threw me into a world I could literally feel spinning around me—a world in which good intentions don’t mean squat and random chance frequently outperforms the most carefully crafted of plans. Block always hits his target, but this one broke my heart along the way.

Redemption is not just about stopping this or quitting that. Whether your problems are chemical or behavioral, those simple changes are a necessary beginning, but they are rarely enough to get the monkey’s teeth out of your neck.

In this novel, Block’s protagonist from 8 Million Ways to Die wrestles with the post-addiction problem of who you are, really, after that thing that has been propping you up is taken away. Redemption isn’t about what happens when you stop digging the hole. It’s about what happens when you climb out of the hole and start becoming.

Many cops retire and decide they want to write, but I think Ed Dee is just about the best of the bunch. I write crime fiction, but I usually write from the criminal’s point of view because I can’t compete with guys like Dee; he’s too good and knows too much.

In this novel, his protagonist is another one of those guys, another ex-cop who made some seriously bad choices and who paid a heavy price. Maybe he can live with it and squeak by, but then he hits one of those bumps, and he has to make some choices.

I understand the consequences. I have a few scars, but I reserve the right to be human, to make mistakes, and to learn from them, hopefully. I love this book.

Child’s Jack Reacher is a classic knight errant, strong, resourceful, and courageous who has headlined dozens of books. But this book stands out because, in the finale, he squares off with a formidable opponent with a hook for a hand.

Reacher struggles to stay conscious during this standoff because he has a woodworking nail stuck in his head, shrapnel from a shotgun blast, that is inexorably shutting down his brain and body. I will remember that passage for quite some time.  

You know what I like about Donald Strachey? His boyfriend. I’m kidding—Strachey’s fine.

He’s a smart, tough detective in the hard-boiled tradition so of course I like him, but do you ever think way more of someone because they had the good taste to pick the partner they did? Timothy Callahan is a Jesuit-educated political aide, former Peace Corps volunteer and one of those characters who gets called a “moral centre” because they are one.

I was half in love with him before he (accurately) dissed Mother Teresa but I adored him after that. I came to the Strachey books for canny, realistic and never twee gay detective fiction but I’ve stayed for Timmy. He’s a soothing, reaffirming, hilarious wonder and you never know—he might smack-talk Gandhi next.

A Beautiful Blue Death begins the publication order of this marvelous Victorian series, though some later-written prequels bring the list of titles to fifteen.

Lenox is remarkable for his affable nature—no enormous childhood trauma, addictions, or unresolved grief defining him; he’s not oppressed by his society. He stands in contrast to the complicated, dynamic, and politically fraught world he investigates.

Finch’s prose is both plummy and punchy, his voice well crafted for the period, and his plots delightfully rife with Victorian arcana and eccentricities. Comfort reading never had quite this much style, elegance, and verve!

Like other private detectives, LA-based Lew Archer sees too much—too much bad or at least questionable behavior. Here, it seems to take the form of a runaway—a rich kid who has “escaped” confinement from his exclusive 60’s reform school. Despite his lack of style and color, Archer acts confident he’ll find him. The only problem: The parents—his client—aren’t helping him very much.  

His disappearance case threatens to disappear, providing an especially clever irony and supporting what I believe is author Macdonald’s favorite insight: The problem begins and ends in the family. The only question is, with all the darkness the parents create and Archer encounters, will he see enough to solve the case? I love this story, in part, becomes it’s more noir than any other Lew Archer story. 

I loved both the richly evoked setting of the Lincolnshire Fens and the detailed knowledge of bell-ringing. The latter is not just an add-on. The knowledge of change-ringing is crucial to solving the cipher in a document found in the bell-chamber. It also has a very real bearing on the death of the victim. 

I really enjoy books that leave me feeling I’ve been enriched and not merely entertained.

In other books by Sayers I warmed to the character of Harriet Vane and the frisson of the relationship between her and the investigator Lord Peter Wimsey.

I love London. I love old mysteries. I love the Art Deco era. I love magic. As a child, my dad was part of the Magic Circle, and my brother and I learned some of the tricks–and when I say ‘my brother and I learned tricks,’ I mean I twirled endless chiffon scarfs from thin air and tried not to get cut in half, and he tried to cut me in half.

Tom Mead’s tale of conjuring, stage trickery, and locked room mystery somehow transports me back to my childhood, even though his 1930s setting is far further back than my 70s childhood! He gives us that Golden Age impossible puzzle–how is a man killed inside a locked room?–and I admit, my guess was quite wrong in this cleverly woven tale of intrigue and deceit, but the magic of smoke, mirrors, trickery, and Art Deco theatre more than made up… show more.