73 books like Queenpin

There’s so much I love about this book: the setting of Lagos, Nigeria, the vignette-style chapters that toggle between poetic insights of the titular sisters, a crime novel unlike any that I’ve read, and the questions it asks about how far you’ll go to protect the people you love.

This book had me riveted, turning pages as fast as I could. Despite being dark, it also made me laugh—which is a really tough combination to pull off! I gulped it down in about two sittings—the story had me that hooked.

The Expanse series was a real game-changer for me. An epic space opera set in a very real and gritty future with a host of working-class heroes.

James, Naomi, and Amos work in deep space on an ice trawler and only become involved in the action by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When they get swept up in the story, the characters must learn and adapt to navigate the world of politics and espionage.

This book series walks the tightrope of creating a very possible future in space without getting too impeded, explaining the science of how that all works. If you like epic space opera set in a plausible future, this series is a fantastic read.

Dashiell Hammett, more than any other author, created the hardboiled anti-hero. He’s also a damn fine prose writer. I re-read one of his books every year because of this, hoping perhaps to absorb his spare, elegant style. Each sentence is brutally trimmed of any excess and yet resonates with layered meaning. 

Dashiell Hammett himself was a broken hero. He fought in two World Wars for his country and yet was sent to jail by the committee for un-American activities for refusing to name names. He was a communist, who yet, as a young man, worked for the fascist, union-busting Pinkertons.

A complex, troubled individual who created dark and cynical worlds, and none more cynical than that of The Maltese Falcon. Here, we have a femme fatale, a hardboiled detective, gangsters, and conmen, all vying for the titular prize. It is a mean-streets masterpiece. 

This book largely takes place over a three-day battle. It showcases the stupidity of war, the cowardice, the luck, the incompetence, and yes, sometimes even the breathtaking courage.

As you’d expect from Abercrombie–the so-called Lord of Grimdark–the ‘heroes’ are no such thing, but rather, flawed and broken individuals who go to war out of obligation or ambition or because they know no other way of life.

Joe Abercrombie writes superb action scenes. Visceral, urgent, bloody. He’s also particularly cruel to his characters. I’m not sure if he’s picking on me particularly or if it’s just the dark alchemy of his literary soul that makes him such a popular author, but he’s always a bit of a bastard to the characters I like the most.

The protagonist of this book is Takeshi Kovacs, a former UN elite soldier turned private investigator. He’s old, or, to be precise, his mind has been around for decades, kept in ‘storage,’ a form of virtual prison. He is ‘decanted’ from storage and put into a body–a ‘sleeve,’ a temporary residence that he may get to keep if he does this one job: solving a seemingly unsolvable murder. 

Fifteen years ago, when I first read it, Altered Carbon showed me cyberpunk still had something to say. I wasn’t a writer then and hadn’t even considered being a writer, but I did think to myself: were I ever to write, it would be in this genre. Fifteen years later, the very same author, Richard Morgan, provided the cover praise for my debut novel. Surreal.

I was obsessed with this book before I read it. As soon as I saw the deal announcement for this book—highlights? A female bigamist who has split her life between Mexico City and Texas, which has led to murder, finally tells her life story to a true crime journalist—I was sliding into the author’s DMs, begging for a copy. (Sadly, not an exaggeration!)

I loved the fresh take on a femme fatale here, which felt like it was tying noir roots to a modern sensibility, and I was OBSESSED with the setting—bouncing between Texas and Mexico City in the 1980s brought to life one of my favorite parts of a good book, the way that you can live all these different lives between two covers. 

This book is bonkers, and I mean that in the best possible way. I loved it when I first read it, and my love for it has only grown throughout the years. I re-read it every few years, trying to pick apart why it works so well for me.

I love Hendrick’s prose, the sharp, noir rhythm of it, and the protagonist, Sherri, is my favorite type of noir heroine to read: crooked but with her own moral code. But mostly, I’m obsessed with how fearless this book is: there’s no taboo left uncrossed. I re-read this book when I need to be braver as a writer.

I loved the voice of Tiffany, the murderous head sorority girl of this novel, so much so that I was very willing to overlook the fact that she was a serial killer. (We all contain multitudes, right?!) Like My Sister, the Serial Killer, this book manages to be tense, dark, and funny all at once, which truly ticks so many of my reader boxes.

This book is also set in Los Angeles, where I live, and I guffawed at its satiric portrayal of a certain type of Angeleno: perma-blonde pumped full of glamorous toxins and is willing to take anyone down a notch if it means “manifesting her highest self.” I thought this book was a truly dark, murderous blast. 

Adam, the narrator of I Am the Cheese, lost his parents in a malicious car accident and, during the course of the novel, he attempts a journey to discover the truth behind what happened to them. Published in 1977, I Am the Cheese is the very first YA story I read as a young adult that did not unfold as I’d anticipated. The world of the novel was much darker than any I’d encountered before in YA literature, and for the first time I realized that I couldn’t necessarily believe what the first-person narrator was telling me. This was an eye-opener for me, both as a reader and as a future author who would eventually explore various ways to tell my own stories. More important, I Am the Cheese has stood the test of time, remaining as engaging (and disturbing) a read as ever.

My favorite true crime books—and most of my favorite non-fiction books—tend to be character-driven, read like novels, and tell a larger story through the protagonist’s lens. I found myself getting lost in George Jung’s journey as a drug smuggler and loving that sometimes it felt almost incidental that he was at the criminal nexus of a massive cultural phenomenon taking place.

I also love it when books and protagonists create conflicting emotional reactions. Jung’s likeability, coupled with the destructiveness of the business he helped pioneer, rings true to life; I found myself rooting for him at times, then despising him, and always wondering where the chips would fall in this improbable journey.