72 books like Give the Devil His Due

Crime but with such achingly good prose, I sometimes have to stop and re-read a sentence just to admire the way Temple wrote it. It’s a slow-burn, with a very dark, noir feeling, and the more you learn about the backstory of protagonist, Detective Senior Sergeant Joe Cashin, the more intriguing he becomes. A great plot, and I love the way Temple weaves different threads together to bring about the slick resolution. If you’re unfamiliar with Australian slang, expect a crash course in the first part of this novel. What makes this book one I return to again and again is the way Temple takes the standard formula of crime fiction and bends it to his will. This is not just a great crime, it’s a great novel.  

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. 

Corris and his protagonist, the hard-scrabble private detective Cliff Hardy, are quintessentially Australian. The Dying Trade introduces Cliff (smoker, drinker, ex-boxer) and sets the standard for all the books that follow in this series. It’s dry and laconic, with a wonderful sense of place (a very gritty 1980s Sydney). There’s a definite nod to the greats— Chandler and Hammett in this series; you know Cliff Hardy probably shouldn’t take this job, it’s odds-on he’ll cop a beating along the way, possible he’ll find love and lose it again. I enjoy the author’s economy with words and the moral complexity of his characters. If you like hard-boiled crime, this series is worth a look!

*Note: Sydney is much nicer than it may seem when you walk in Corris’s shoes!

I lived in Australia for several years and loved visiting historic buildings with their wrap-around verandas, pressed-tin high ceilings, and old-world grandeur. Greenwood’s books, set in 1920s Melbourne, remind me of those buildings. Her heroine, investigator Phryne Fisher, epitomizes 1920s glamour.

She’s wealthy, educated, sexy, and self-assured, and conducts her investigations in a dazzling array of sumptuous outfits. But what I like most about Phryne is her ability to talk to anyone, whether that’s the grandest society hostess or the roughest docker.

In this book, she’s investigating a series of murders in a theatre and also finds herself drawn to Melbourne’s Chinese community. She moves easily between worlds, often kind, always shrewd, never flinching.

Can I make this list and not include a golden-age detective story set in a country house at Christmas? This one has all the ingredients required for an afternoon by the fire, looking out at the wintry weather—a locked room, an appealing detective, and a cast of people compelled, rather unwisely, to spend Christmas in each other’s company. "If you ask me, there very likely wouldn’t have been a murder at all if it hadn’t been for him getting ideas about peace and goodwill, and assembling all these highly uncongenial people under the same roof at the same time.” 

I think Jane Prescot is the perfect sleuth for this story of old money versus new money in 1910 New York City. She is a ladies’ maid to the new money Benchley daughters and she’s determined to keep them out of trouble. Her task becomes more difficult when Charlotte Benchley’s brand new fiancée is murdered. 

Jane is uniquely positioned to move through the city streets as well as into the homes of the upper crust. She’s smart, resourceful, and tenacious, but it’s her loyalty to her not-so-nice employers that had me rooting for her to uncover the killer. It definitely gave me Upstairs, Downstairs as well as Downton Abby vibes.

I love a well-written underdog, and Ashley Gardner delivers in this book. Captain Gabriel Lacey acts as the bridge between the highest echelons of society and the poor at the bottom, humanizing every one of them while solving twisty crimes.

I adored the unexpected friendship between the retired military man and Grenville, a fashion-conscious man of high society. This long-running series remains one of my absolute favorites because of the mix of upstairs/downstairs intrigues and excellent character development.

What a surprise find! I was introduced to Fractured by the ABC/Hulu series Will Trent—credit to my wife. After watching the premiere episode together, she informed me it was based on a Karin Slaughter novel. While the characters' histories were the same in both media, they were quite different in print, physically, and culturally. They’re equally intriguing but different. 

Nevertheless, the main character is totally fascinating because of his background—raised in a children’s home, abused by foster parents, dyslexic, but incredibly observant—which makes him a great detective for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. As the author, Slaughter must have done copious research for the background information and details. Her great writing made it all believable. I was—and am—hooked.

I just love an uber-private, members-only resort setting, and this book delivers.

The club caters to celebs and the wealthy elite who want to be in the presence of famous people. Ned, the creator of The Home, has outdone himself this time and created an island destination to die for.

But when he goes missing, chaos envelops the island and its guests. It kept me on the edge of my seat. 

Terrible things happen to the women in this book, but they all, every single one of them, rock the boat to try and make their own lives. In this retelling of The Great Gatsby that centers the POVs of three women critical to the story (Jordan Baker, Daisy Buchanan, and Myrtle Wilson’s suffragist sister), we get the story that was always hiding between the lines.

I found myself proud of and mourning the lives of each of these women. I felt furious on their behalf and hopeful that the generations that came after them would reap the benefits of their mistakes and their work. 

Perhaps most surprising to me, I found myself wanting to know these women more than I ever, ever wanted to get to know Gatsby’s world.