100 books like Skinhead

I flit between literary fiction and crime fiction. I like my highbrow, all second-hand Penguin Modern Classics, and my lowbrow, all-half-inch-thick, pocket-sized books with photos of weapons on the front. But Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead is that rare beast of a bona fide literary writer doing a proper genre piece.

Janina Duszejko is an elderly, retired academic living alone in the middle of the wintery, Polish countryside. Alone but not lonely, surrounded by nature, astrology, and William Blake’s words, the book captures that beautiful, haunting quality of solitude and the compromises it brings. It also captures that slow, burning anger of someone who has long ago stopped caring what anyone else thinks.

Sure, there’s a murder plodding along in the background, but I was almost disappointed when it was solved because it meant leaving Janina and her Polish wilderness.

About halfway into Red Dragon, you meet Francis Dolarhyde, and from then on, the book is all his. Forget the FBI who are looking for him, the only person you care about is Dolarhyde, the serial killer who’s been brutally murdering entire families.

As far as I’m concerned, he’s the hero. Hannibal Lecter isn’t Thomas Harris’ best villain. It’s Dolarhyde. He’s everything Lecter isn’t. He’s awkward, shy, hates his body, hates himself and spends all his time stewing on his inadequacies. If I’ve got to pick between the Virgin Dolarhyde and the Chad Lecter, it’s Dolarhyde every time.

Deep down, he just wants to be loved, but the way he goes about it is almost comically misguided. Dolardhyde is on an impossible, bloody mission to fix himself, and no matter how many bodies he drops trying to do it, I’m always rooting for him to make it out the… show more.

Everyone loves a bastard, and Pinkie, the hero of Brighton Rock, is such an awful bastard. He doesn’t like his friends, hates his girlfriend, and is driven by a pathetically brittle ego that can never be satisfied. But it’s the fact he’s so hopelessly trapped in the prison of his own angry, petty horizons that makes me love him. I love a doomed character.

When an author can make you know, it’s all going to end badly and still make you hope it won’t? That’s magic. I love it when I’m reading books that I can feel playing with my emotions but I’m enjoying it so much I don’t care. Pinkie is a bastard, and he sort of knows it, when it comes to the crunch, and he goes out like a coward, I can’t help but wish he’d managed to pull it off.

I fell in love with the film and so was deeply relieved when I finally read the book and found out it was even better.

While there’s a horrendous moral misstep that sets things in motion, what I love is how well it captures that timeless, uncertain, motes-of-dust-in-the-sunlight feeling of a teenage, British summertime.

As the protagonists’ small, crumbling world slowly disintegrates around them, McEwan, the genius that he is, finds a universal sense of adolescent instability that keeps you on his side as things go horribly awry. 

I couldn’t help but root for Miranda Abbott, the hilariously self-absorbed heroine of I Only Read Murder. The formerly famous television star of the Pastor Fran crime-fighting series, Miranda’s path to redemption requires her to solve a real-life murder where all the suspects are members of an amateur theatrical society. I Only Read Murder is ridiculously entertaining, a very fun romp that takes full advantage of the cozy mystery tropes we all love. 

Freya Lockwood is one relatable sleuth–middle-aged, divorced, empty-nesting, and wondering how her dreams for herself have vanished after passing through the meat grinder of adulthood.

I love the themes of estrangement from oneself and others in this debut cozy mystery, as well as the deep dive into the shadowy world of antiques trading from an author with significant personal experience in the field. 

Full confession: I only picked up this novel in my attempt to read every book with “kibbutz” in the title. Lucky me!

I became a fan of Michael Ohayon, the moody outsider who stars in Batya Gur’s series of Hebrew whodunnits, all set in various closed societies and institutions. Ohayon is like an Israeli Inspector Rebus, and no amount of duplicity by the members at an indebted kibbutz can keep him from cracking the case.

The novel doesn’t paint a pretty picture of communal life, but I recognized many of the fatal flaws of the real kibbutz movement magnified to deadly dimensions in this slow burn of a murder mystery.

This is another story bringing history to life, in this case, the famous Rajah Quilt, made by convict women in 1841 while being transported to Tasmania.

I’m not a patcher myself, but my mum was, and I know how patching brings disparate women together, though not as disparate as these "dangerous women" and their leader, the Quaker philanthropist Kezia Hayter.

Hope Adams takes a worthy story and turns it into a gripping whodunnit, beginning with a murder on page one. It is hard at times to keep track of all the characters, but well worth the effort because their unlikely friendships are fascinating and crucial to the solving of the mystery.  

I loved this book because of its setting: during World War II, in the house of Agatha Christie.

We follow the heroine as she escapes the bombs of London to take care of children in an unfamiliar countryside and a large manor house. She is keeping secrets about her past, as is every other character!

The novel uses multiple points of view, so we, as readers, slowly learn about the lies everyone is telling. The war provides the perfect backdrop and raises the stakes as the murderer might not just be a killer but a fifth-column member, helping the Germans win the war. 

I was already a fan of Clare Mackintosh’s standalone thrillers, but when I found out she was launching a police procedural series, I was so excited! Set in Wales, this compelling book stars the complex, courageous character of DC Ffion Morgan as she tries to get to the bottom of who killed Rhys Lloyd during his New Year’s Eve party and dumped his body in the freezing lake.

I won't reveal much about the plot itself because I want you to experience the twists and turns for yourself. I want your heart to pound like it wants to escape your chest. I want you to lose hours of sleep because 'one more chapter' turned into twenty. You'll order the next book faster than I can say 'no comment.'