Fans pick 100 books like The Kings of Cool

I remember summers growing up when we were out of the house seeking freedom from parents as we streamed toward our teenage years, so I can identify with this story’s start. We’d follow deer trails through brush and trees to spots up in the hills we’d claimed as our own. This book begins with a prologue made vivid with three children and Tana French’s gorgeous prose.

The children go up and over a rock wall and into “A summer full-throated and extravagant in a hot pure silk skin blue…your tongue tasting of chewed blades of long grass, your own clean sweat…” “…long slow twilight and mothers silhouetted in doorways…” and the haunted last sentence, “These children will not be coming of age, this or any other summer.”

I’ve long been a fan of James Lee Burke’s novels. His lyrical and likely heartfelt descriptions of Louisiana’s land, water, and people offset and illuminate the contrasting violence. Burke acknowledges the darkness in humanity and the possibility of redemption.

Into that mix goes Dave Robicheaux, the protagonist, who had his own ups and downs. Robicheaux can read between the lines and keeps a pretty clear eye on the truth. Here’s the opening sentence of this book, Robicheaux narrating in his own way:

“Years ago, in state documents, Vachel Carmouche was always referred to as the electrician, never the executioner.”

We all make choices we later have to live with. Back from war and trained as an Army ranger, Quinn Colson is the sheriff now in Tibbehah, Mississippi, and finds himself hunting an old high school friend turned arms dealer. When you open this book, it’s already flowing, a feel of which I love. It’s as if you’re not watching; you’re already in the boat and can hear the roar of the coming rapids. Colson is in motion. He’s on the hunt. Here’s the way the novel starts,                      

“A couple of roustabouts had been asking about guns at the Tibbehah County fair, but by the time the word had gotten back to Donnie Varner, they’d long since packed up their Ferris wheel, corn dog stands and shit, and boogied down the highway.”

This book got a lot of well-deserved buzz when it was published in 1976, about a year after North Vietnamese tanks rolled into Saigon. It’s not hard to remember tear gas and chants of “Hell no, we won’t go.”

Thornburg captured a mood and feel of what was like out on the street, an America divided. Cutter is wounded badly in Vietnam. Bone had a loathing of self, and the novel opens with, “It was not the first time Richard Bone had shaved with a Lady Remington, nor did he expect it to be the last.” He and Cutter were odd, but somehow, they fit into the zeitgeist. If you come across it someday, read it. 

I love this book because it gives adult daughters clarity on the generational trauma mom might be acting out with them when in conflict together. By looking at patterns of behaviors (criticizing, dismissing, avoiding), social expectations of each generation (i.e., stay home, be small, be a caregiver, be polite), and mom’s own trauma, adult daughters can look at mom with more awareness and compassion.

I loved the grandma-mother-daughter genogram exercise in this book, which maps out these patterns in such a powerful, visual way!

Inspired by the works of Thomas Wolfe, Conroy’s autobiographical novel begins after his high school years, with flashbacks to earlier days as it leads toward the end of each of his parent’s lives.

Once a brutal alcoholic, his ex-military father remains verbally abusive but allows a viable relationship with Conroy, the eldest son, while the mother fantasizes relentlessly. As adults, Conroy and his six siblings try to make sense of the negative repercussions they endure from their chaotic, unstable childhood.

I appreciated Conroy’s sincerity, especially when he witnesses another one of his novels being made into a movie and realizes he is watching art in its creation. “It was so powerful in its purity and its sheer honesty that it shook me, terrified me. But it changed me. That is what art always does.”

I recommend this book because it made me reflect deeply on where my financial success derailed. Since 2017, I have strongly advocated for the rapid expansion of innovative technology like Bitcoin, crypto, and artificial intelligence, through hosting podcasts and writing books. After reading this book, I was shocked that I agreed with the need for a more cautious approach. I thought about the benefits and drawbacks of rapidly advancing technology and why it makes sense to be more careful.

I believe Gen X is not just the bridge between the analog and digital worlds but also the connectors and innovators that will drive our global economy forward. I grew up not feeling special, but this book helped change my perspective. I have shared traits, such as resilience and adaptability, with my fellow Gen Xers. I now wish to use my voice to strengthen relationships in our increasingly digital age. I… show more.

The towering achievement of eighteenth-century fiction, but long, very long—and not because of the plot so much as the form. “There is no Story,” wrote Hester Thrale, an early admirer of Clarissa (1747-8): “A man gets a Girl from her Parents—violates her Free Will, & She dies of a broken heart.” Around this brutal, elemental tale of toxic courtship and finally rape, however, the novel uses competing, divergent points of view to problematize access to the action, its causes and effects, its rights and wrongs, its large implications for sexual politics and social class. With its multiple narrators, Clarissa probes complex psychologies in startling new ways and throws the burden of interpretation and judgment on its readers. It’s not just a compelling story but a vast, endlessly troubling altercation about that story, with each narrator, one way or another, “throwing dust in the eyes of his judges.”

I thoroughly enjoyed Jeff Gordinier’s book because I found myself engaged in worlds of reflection and revelation. I have long battled with the disconnect and discomfort between my achievements and self-promotion. I struggle mightily with an innate desire to contribute meaningfully and with powerful anxiety that pulls me back into the shadows of reclusiveness and isolation.

Leadership often requires daring to step into the light, to share one’s voice, and to embrace the potential of vulnerability. It’s easy for me to become jaded and to succumb to despair in a world where I feel increasingly less prepared to tackle. Gordinier offers reflections of hope and compassion in this digital age. I find glimpses of light in small acts of kindness, where empathy shines brightest amid growing chaos. I want to dare not just dream of a better world but take those initial courageous steps toward making Gen X “teen spirit”… show more.

Wells’ novel takes readers to the heart of the pain that an adult daughter experiences at the hands of a troubled mother.

It explores how the pain and trauma of being a woman in a culture that doesn’t value women equally are passed down through generations and how each generation picks it up and carries it, in similar but different ways.

This “wound” shows up in the relationships of mothers who grew up in the 1950s and 60s and their daughters who grew up in the 1970s and 80s. The mothers want so much for their daughters to have more freedom than they themselves did, but instead find themselves experiencing fear, bitterness, and unexpected jealousy.