76 books like How to Set a Fire and Why

Along with Anthropology of an American Girl, this is one of the books that made me want to become a writer. More specifically, it opened my eyes to what a writer can do with a teenage subject.

The story follows a prep-school student, Lee, but Sittenfeld handles her experience with all the nuance of “adult” subjects. I also admire how Sittenfeld captures the labyrinthine social politics of an elite boarding school and comments on class and race hierarchies without ever feeling didactic.

I think people mistake this book as YA—I certainly did when I first picked it up as a thirteen-year-old—but don’t be fooled by that candy-colored ribbon belt on the cover. This is as complex a novel as they come.     

I originally read Thayer Hamann when I was in high school and identified so deeply with Evie, the protagonist, and also saw in her the person I yearned to become. Evie shares the intricacies of the teenage girl experience, beginning with her high school career in East Hampton and spanning through her undergraduate years at NYU.

Her perspective is graceful, smart, and deeply feeling, with her heart fully exposed on her sleeve—much in the way mine was as a teenager (and still is, in many ways). There’s an epic love story at the heart of the novel, as well (even though I wrote a thriller, I am a romantic to my core), and I’m not too proud to say that the love interest, Roarke, continues to be one of my favorite “book boyfriends.” I reread this every couple of years and can confirm it stands the test of time.  

I can’t talk about notable adolescent protagonists without mentioning Blue van Meer. Marisha Pessl’s cult-favorite debut made an impact on me as a teenage reader, but I recently picked it back up on a whim and was just as enthralled as an adult.

This is a formally inventive novel interspersed with hand-drawn illustrations and pop quizzes. It also defies generic categorization, weaving in elements of murder mystery, campus novel, and coming-of-age saga. It’s a lot to take in (and it clocks in at a door-stopping 540 pages), but Blue’s always-surprising observations keep the pages turning.

I wholeheartedly recommend this entire short story collection, but the title story, which centers on a recent high school grad, is a standout. While her architect father gallivants around Spain, Sara is left alone in his cold, modernist home on the coast of County Cork and battles her compulsion to self-harm.

This is a delicate subject matter, but it’s another example of an adult man inhabiting the mind of a teenage girl with a surprising facility. Kevin Barry is hands-down one of the best contemporary writers working today—no one uses language quite so inventively. Not for nothing, he’s one of the funniest writers, too, and his humor works to temper the melodrama that might arise in the hands of another writer.

I loved this book because it shows her female character's resilience and strength in reinventing her career in fire after a debilitating accident on the job as a firefighter. Split-second decisions matter in the perilous world of fighting fire.

When Anne Ashburn finds a new career as a fire investigator, she must investigate a string of suspicious fires that endanger the lives of her former colleagues. The hero in the story teams up with Anne to find answers, and a heated attraction soon ignites. This story has enough twists and turns to confuse even the best GPS.

You weren’t expecting me to recommend a Leverage tie-in novel, were you?

From my perspective, a book based on a television series is just as valid as a television series based on a book—and if you don’t share the same view, you might need to adjust one of your mirrors. I love The Con Job because takes the nerdy, cozy world of Leverage and places it in San Diego Comic-Con, giving the characters a real-world experience that many of us will have experienced ourselves.

There’s not a lot of music in this one, which may disappoint those of us who watched Leverage for the Rimsky-Korsakov, but there’s plenty of math and physics and a few inside jokes. It’s a comfort read, in more ways than one—which is probably why I keep reading it.

Is there anything hotter than a man willing to launch himself into a wilderness fire to save complete strangers? If you think there isn't, may I direct you to Marsh’s three-book series with action, suspense, drama – and scorching-hot men risking everything to help others. Burning Up introduces the reader to a close-knit group of smokejumpers, vengeful arsonists, regrets, and lost love… and reminds us that the riskiest jobs often result in heartbreak. I doubt that I could handle the stress of loving someone who lays down their life every single time they go to work, but I do find the psychology of the risk-taker fascinating and sexy: real heroes are rare and maybe that’s what makes them so irresistible… even if they are fictional.

Steven James is one of my favorite authors, and this novel is one of his best works. I connected with the main character, Travis Brock, a person blessed with an eidetic memory. Travis remembers everything he sees, but like an eyewitness to a crime, some things seen prove haunting afterward.

Threats, trouble, and conflict kept me turning pages. This story's ending, with one of the best twists I have ever read or heard of, left me with a sense of urgency to read the sequel as soon as it is published.

I started this book for the unlikely main character–Sister Holiday, a chain-smoking, tattooed, queer nun–but it was the mystery that kept me reading. I always love it when a writer can make me feel like I am the one on the line, like I am fighting for my life or to prove my innocence. This book did just that.

I found I was holding myself tightly as Sister Holiday investigated but just kept finding more evidence against herself. The snippets of her past life made me feel for her more and more, taking the character from an unlikely hero to someone I cared deeply about. I can’t wait to get my hands on the second in the series.

The premise of this book is amazing—a therapist brings a group of horror movie-style survivors together for a therapeutic experiment—but the execution is even better. I love the natural and inevitable way that Gregory links his characters’ stories and the empathy with which he explores their psychological (and physical) scars.

There is a lot in this book that is grim, but there is also a lot of hope. Maybe none of us are completely fine, but none of us are completely broken, either.