Fans pick 75 books like Still Mine

In the opening pages of Bury Your Dead, Penny gives us a heart-pounding glimpse into a moment that went horribly wrong.

Right away, she lays bare the terrible incident in the past that now haunts her beloved character, Chief Inspector Armand Gamache in the present. He’s come to Quebec City to get his head straight, to walk his friend’s dog, to disappear for a while. But nothing’s ever that simple.

A mystery bubbles up and Gamache can’t resist getting involved. It’s in his blood, despite still struggling with past demons. What I love about this novel is the snowy, history-laden atmosphere Penny creates that beautifully mirrors Gamache’s desire to hide away from the world, making it a wonderful book to snuggle up with on a cozy winter’s night.

I picked up Tector’s novel because it’s set in my hometown of Ottawa, and I kept reading because she’s crafted a wonderfully flawed character who just won’t quit.

Cate Spencer is a coroner who relies on two things: her instincts and too much scotch to numb her painful past. When a woman is found hanging in the vaults of an archives building, Cate arrives on the scene.

It looks like suicide, but Cate can’t bring herself to rule the death accidental. Not yet. Something’s not right. The more she digs, the more menace stalks her, and the more the past threatens to derail her world completely.

Was the death a murder and if so, why? Dripping with long-buried secrets, this thriller kept me reading long into the night.

A thriller with a kick-ass premise: Chloe wakes up on the side of a highway not knowing who the heck she is or how she got there.

It’s a haunting, scary, unnerving story about a woman trying to figure out what could have happened to completely wipe out her memory. What I love about the novel is how Wong’s relentless pace matches lockstep with her protagonist’s frenzied and fractured state of mind.

Bits of the past begin to slip through the cracks as Chloe searches for the truth. I love that Wong chose to tell the story from Chloe’s POV so we’re only privy to what this messy character remembers—or chooses to tell us that she remembers. Twisted, damaged characters with secrets are my cup of tea.

What I loved about McKinnon’s thriller was the darkly twisted and funny ride she takes you on from the get-go.

In the opening pages, Lucas admits he had his wife murdered, so this is not so much a “whodunnit” as a “will-he-get-away-with-it” story.

McKinnon gives the reader a peek inside the mind of her very messy, down-right vile protagonist. Lucas shares all the details of his devious plan—how his heart-breaking past justifies what he did, how he charmed his way into his wealthy wife’s life, married her, then carefully executed her demise.

The most compelling thing about the novel is that Lucas is kind of hard not to love, despite being utterly despicable. That’s not easy to pull off and McKinnon does it delightfully.

What I adore about this book—which Carol Shields wrote a few years after winning the Pulitzer Prize for The Stone Diaries—is how it mingles the quotidian and the fanciful and the fantastic.

The quotidian takes the form of the very ordinary details in the life of the titular protagonist’s middle-aged life: The small things that Larry frets about, his ordinary conversations in Winnipeg coffee shops, his very relatable miscommunications, and even his fairly typical penis (there’s an entire chapter called “Larry’s Penis”).

Then there are the fanciful touches—for example, Larry makes garden labyrinths for a living (not a run-of-the-mill profession), and streets that don’t intersect in the real Winnipeg do intersect in the novel.

As for the fantastic, the novel ends with Larry having a vision of how his life might have gone in a happier alternative reality. 

Wallace—a history professor, librarian, and bookseller—was one of Canada’s first true crime writers. This collection of sixteen stories of murder and mayhem, first published in 1931, is a trove of long-forgotten tales. Some of the crimes he chronicles made international headlines. Harry and Dallas Hyams, identical twin brothers from New Orleans, were accused of killing an employee in Toronto in 1893 to collect on insurance policies. Adelard Delorme, a Catholic priest in Montreal, stood trial four times for the 1922 murder of his brother and was ultimately set free. Wallace apologized for straying from mainstream history into the realm of the gruesome and sensational to record, as he put it, “what God in His wisdom saw fit to permit to happen.”

I think it is only natural to include an autobiography in a list like this, and Bruno Friesen's book is compelling to me for several reasons, mainly because he was a Canadian who ended up in the German Army.

Friesen talks about these curious circumstances honestly and with good humour, and the book transitions quickly from light-hearted reminiscences to a really very good technical study of what it was like to fight in tanks on the Eastern Front.

I thought the book illustrated well how an individual could fight against the multiple dehumanizing forces of modern war and come out the other end with spirit intact. The book juxtaposes well the helplessness of men fighting in machines with their human survival instincts.

In 1984, a 15-year old Indo-Canadian Maya travels with her father to India to consign her mother's ashes to the Ganges. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi is assassinated the very day they arrive and Delhi descends into state-sponsored carnage as Sikh men and women are held collectively responsible. Separated from her father, Maya has to find her way home. This novel in verse is by Canadian writing across ethnic and religious lines. As a Sikh, I am familiar with details of the pogrom. Instead of applying the usual Western label of “senseless violence” Ostlere sensitively explores the impact on two ordinary young people.

Set on a Canadian prairie plain in the 1930s, Who Has Seen the Wind tells the coming-of-age story of a young Saskatchewan boy, Brian O’Connal, as he seeks meaning in life, death, and God. I love this book for its lyrical use of the wind which constantly sweeps across the prairie and through every aspect of the story. This book influenced me as a writer because I hoped to personify the sea the way W.O Mitchell did the wind.

Omar Khadr is a personal friend of mine, the gentlest soul I have met since setting foot on Canadian soil. This collection has been essential to my understanding of Canada’s unwillingness to stand up for one of its own citizens. It highlights how belonging in the nation is not necessarily a right all citizens enjoy, and invites a serious reflection on what citizenship means in this country.