26 books like Gone Wild

As a confirmed Anglophile, I became aware of Richard Osman’s wit and unique humor from watching British game shows where he appears as either a panelist or presenter. When I learned he had authored a book, I couldn’t wait to read it and had high expectations. The Thursday Murder Club did not disappoint.

The eclectic group of characters, from the Old Age Pensioners of the retirement village to the detectives they encounter (and frustrate), are engaging and richly developed. Even the evil-doers are written with more than the usual depth.

The plot is rich, with unexpected twists. I love a good, clean mystery that respects both the characters and the readers. Richard Osman has created a delightful series. I can’t wait for his next installment. 

A list of badass women sleuths isn’t complete without Stephanie Plum. I love her humor and determination. And I adore her street smarts and emotional intelligence.

No, she’s not an intellectual heavyweight like some women I’ve mentioned. But I’d argue that her gift for always finding a way to save herself and catch the killer is its own kind of brilliance. And nobody writes a fun fight scene like Evanovich!

No one does Florida-Funny like Carl Hiaasen.

A long-time columnist for the Miami Herald, Hiaasen has written theme-based novels about the foibles of Florida living—the politics, the sugar industry, the plastic surgery industry, the lottery. I imagine him banging out these novels with sardonic ire, seething at what has happened to his beloved Florida. But his rants are so funny readers need to stop from choking and hold onto to their hats.

I’ve read all of his books, and Tourist Season is one of my favorites, hooking me on page one with that mysterious limb found on the beach, page one. Then the race is on to find the culprit—and the rest of the poor devil who’s missing a leg. When asked where he gets his ideas, Hiaasen once said, “The police blotter…You can’t make this stuff up.”

Nine Perfect Strangers, with an Agatha Christie twist, finds these characters holed up at an exclusive spa with a looney-tune leader, and they are more or less held captive while the truth unfolds.

I chose this book because Frances, the failing writer, struck such a note of humor, I almost fell out of my chair reading of her mental state and ambivalence toward a doofus she meets at the spa. While she laments her shortcomings, she is irresistibly drawn to this guy. (Do I empathize?)

Moriarty has a facile ability to draw distinct features in her characters and pull them along until they work themselves out. A favorite author of mine. 

The world of The Sea of Stars is amazingly creative; a modern setting that flawlessly incorporates magicians, scheming courtiers, enchanted animals, and prophetic astronomy in an age of cell phones, animal activists, and labor agencies. The majority of common people are ruled over by nobles and magicians who regularly strip human beings of their souls and lock them away inside animals, thus creating a soulless human workforce as well as intelligent animal servants. As weird as that may sound, the characters are so well written that the book is astoundingly humane and moving.

I sympathized completely with Grand Magician Zachary Drake in his disdain for the ruling class and its dehumanizing practices. Though, I’ll admit, a couple of times I was so fascinated by the unexpected creativity of the world that I almost wanted to see more. And I definitely appreciated Drake’s snark and cynical commentary.  

But the story truly… show more.

Rita knew her marriage was struggling, but was shocked and hurt when her husband asked for a two-month break to see other people. But she agreed, and saw as many people as she could. She saw shoppers bustling through outdoor markets, past vendors hawking tropical fruits and mountains of spices. She saw children playing in hillside villages. She saw kindred spirits, traveling with no plan other than to experience the world.

Rita became a nomad with few possessions, but countless experiences. As I read Rita’s memoir, I found myself nodding in understanding as she described her infinite curiosity, and her fascination with beautiful places, and myriad ways of life. As Rita’s marriage ended, she discovered there’s more than one way to have passion in your life.

I couldn’t resist a title with two of my favorite things, hugs and birds. (In fact, I’ve written early readers about birds.) Bird Hugs, by author-illustrator Ged Adamson, tells the story of Bernard, a sweet little bird with wings too long to fly. He tries to fly many times, but isn’t successful. He feels useless and lonely until he meets an orangutan who needs a hug. It turns out Bernard’s long wings are just perfect for hugging. One hug leads to another and soon all the animals come to Bernard when they need comfort. Bird Hugs tells a lovely story with a positive message about fitting in when you’re different and, of course, how a hug can brighten your day. 

Orangutan is a working-class opus. Broderick excels in his display of the grind and how some men can weather and accept, as the Boss sings, dying little by little, piece by piece, and how others need more help to make it through the day. The most compelling part of Broderick's writing is the way he is able to delineate between the haves and have-nots. And, no, I don't mean money. Some men can drink a six-pack on the weekend, even do some blow. They'll be fine. Others? Like Colin? A shot is too much of an allure. Not just to get drunk, wasted, blotto. It goes way deeper. It's a form of wakeful suicide. You get through the day. You get your paycheck. You survive. But the price is not living.

I was absolutely riveted by this short but powerful book chronicling the fascinating and sometimes heartbreaking history of animal escapes from zoos, circuses, and other forms of captivity. Hribal makes the case that these stories of animal “resistance” are evidence that wild animals value their autonomy and I, for one, was very much convinced. 

I was fascinated with the depiction of the 1930s Malaysian dance halls steeped in music, fashion, and dance. As a writer who dabbles in the paranormal, the cultural spirits and supernatural elements were intriguing. The split narrative appealed to me since my Jitterbug Dress series is a dual narrative set in the 1940s and 1990s. The author also set the narrative apart by telling the story in different tenses and POVs (Ren and William’s story is in third person past, while Ji Lin’s story is first person, present). Choo did a great job of juxtaposing the beast or wild animal inside each person, where the line of who we are inside and what we present to society is drawn all while creating tension and suspense, keeping me guessing on how all these narratives intertwine.