100 books like Skin Tight

It is a book that deep dives into a historical event, in this case, the 1893 World Columbian Exposition. Check. It is a nonfiction book that reads like a gripping thriller, in this case, the serial killer H.H. Holmes, who built a three-story building featuring secret rooms, torture chambers, and a crematorium. Check. Chicago leaps off the page. By the end of the book, I was able to envision the massive exposition, its hundreds of temporary buildings, all white colored, interlaced with ponds and canals.

Much like that exposition helped raise Chicago up from its Great Fire, so I could see a Chicago of the past, in a glorious triumph of industry and innovation. Oh, and yeah, a serial killer constructing a horrific murder building.

The perfect crime? Actually not! It was so imperfect that it turned into the perfect crime by just pure luck. No clues were left behind. In fact, there was nothing to trace the murder back to the murderer except his own guilt. 

His guilt turned out to be his biggest punishment. When he finally surrenders, he feels at peace–the long-eluded peace. 

This story and its questions of eugenics and our place in society really horrified me, not because it was unbelievable, but precisely because it was far too real. The genetic superiority/inferiority, coupled with social indoctrination into our “advanced” society, made me meditate a great deal on what it means to be human.

What are humans without societal pressures? The way Huxley looked at the costs of freedom was really compelling. And in so many ways, he accurately predicted the destructive side of the social microscope that we all live in today under social media.

This novel captivated me from the very first page. It masterfully blends historical figures and facts to create a gripping thriller. I was immediately drawn into New York City in 1896 and the groundbreaking investigation.

The alienist, which is what psychologists were at the turn of the century, uses a unique, untested, and ridiculed method to track down a serial killer: psychological profiling. The appearance of real historical figures, like Theodore Roosevelt, then police commissioner, and J.P. Morgan, added a rich layer of authenticity and intrigue to the story. For me, the meticulous details of the era made each twist in the investigation come to life.

Pandemic includes my two favorite themes: molecular biology and viral infections. It introduces a problem I’ve seen discussed in a scientific journal. If a gene editing tool (CRISPR/Cas 9) is used to raise pigs whose hearts have important human proteins so they are recognized as “self” by a human’s immune system, the waiting lists for heart transplants would be a thing of the past. However, a virus, avirulent in the pig but fatal to people, could accidentally be carried along with those hearts. The ensuing coverups make things exponentially worse.

Gerritsen’s Life Support is a suspense-filled cliffhanger that makes use of spongiform encephalitis, a brain disease caused by prions. Remember Mad Cow Disease? It’s a type of problem that stretches the meaning of “infection.” The story is based on the fictional use of fetal pituitary cells from aborted fetuses to return youthful strength and vigor to elderly rich people. The group making millions from this obtains fetuses from a Mexican village where the cows are dying. A year later, several of their patients die of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, an extremely rare human type of spongiform encephalitis. Corpses accumulate and suspense builds during the coverup.

This witty and wryly humorous murder mystery features two amateur sleuths. Maggie, a reporter from up north, is vacationing on an island off the coast of Florida when a murder takes place. She investigates, is stumped, and convinces her irascible boss, editor C. B. Greenfield, to come down and help. Thereafter, she grouses about him as he puts his formidable intellect into solving the mystery.

Studies since the publication of the book have found it to be in error on a few minor points (e.g., the DNA encoding the Shiga-like toxin of E. coli O157:H7 is on a virus infecting the E. coli cells, not on a plasmid), but that doesn’t make the story outdated. The toxin is as nasty as it is portrayed, no matter how the E. coli acquired it, and the blame leveled at the meat-packing industry and the USDA for the contamination that causes the problem is spot on. The only reason the disease isn’t more common is that most fast-food restaurants deliberately overcook their hamburgers.

Having lived in Utah for several years, I went into this knowing a fair amount about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints: its history, its leaders, its tangled (to put it mildly) relationship with polygamy, and its equally tangled dealings with the federal government. And still, Jon Krakauer's true-crime masterwork was (no pun intended) a revelation. It gripped me from its very first page.

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.