83 books like The Ninth Hour

Brooklyn is one of my favorite contemporary novels.

Written in spare, clear prose, the story reels you in as you follow a young Irish girl in the 1950s, who leaves her small town in Ireland to find work in Brooklyn. Homesickness sets in, but love happens too until she is called home at her sister’s death. Complications ensue! 

This novel has been made into a great film also.

I love this story because, for me, it’s a perfect example of why a ship is such a great platform for storytelling, a moving stage for a compelling cast of characters to act out the drama of their past and present lives while heading into an uncertain future.

The Star of the Sea is a "coffin ship," the name given to the leaking hulks that transported a million emigrants from Ireland to America during the Great Famine of the 1840s.

It’s a historical novel but for me, a timeless story about emigration and the human condition, of refugees fleeing the monsters of their past, war, famine, disease, whatever, into what they hope will be a brighter future, and of what happens to them on the way.

Elizabeth Bowen once described the Ireland-England relationship as ‘a mixture of showing-off and suspicion, nearly as bad as sex’. Her 1928 novel demonstrates this beautifully, eviscerating the attitudes of  Anglo-Irish grandees in their Big House as the country around them crackles with guerilla war and showing the incomprehension between the Irish (at all social levels) and the British soldiers sent ostensibly to keep the peace.

Though it ends in tragedy, social comedy, as so often, shows the brutal realities beneath the surface. And the atmosphere of the Irish landscape, at once idyllic and brooding, comes alive in Bowen’s supercharged prose.

Edna O’Brien’s work makes me laugh and cry at the same time!

The Country Girls is a rollicking tale of two girls from rural Ireland in the 1950s, convent-educated, who leave home after their secondary school graduation to seek freedom and fun in the big city of Dublin.

Not quite Sex in the City, but a reader will laugh with the girls and sympathize with their troubles with men and work. 

Set against the backdrop of the sociopolitical turmoil of the 1960s, James Baldwin’s Another Country captures a diverse group of friends in cities both foreign and domestic (NYC and France) who are struggling with interconnected issues of race, sexuality, gender, and class.

As history repeats itself in the 21st century, there is wisdom in reviewing how people survived the last round of radical social upheaval. They did so without losing themselves, nor their opportunities to forge meaningful human connections in the melee.

How do you learn from ex-lovers? How do you make peace with the dead? How do you stay sane when the world is hassling you over unchangeable characteristics you’re working to embrace rather than despise? These characters are trying to build something real on shifting sands, and their stories are still relatable today.

Something that really drew me into this book is how slippery the sense of danger is: Is journalist Scott McGrath only risking further legal trouble with Stanislas Cordova if he continues to research the suicide of the mysterious director’s daughter, or is he up against something far more evil?

After his last encounter with Cordova destroyed his career, reputation, and marriage, Scott McGrath should be worrying about other things… but he can’t help himself. I was also intrigued by his shifting motivations: Is he driven by a need to know the truth, seeking revenge, fascinated by the story, or trying to protect himself and his loved ones?

Many scenes felt like optical illusions where I could see entirely different truths depending on what perspective I looked at them from.

You might get the idea that I lean to books with unexplained disappearances and/or deaths at the heart of the mystery. If you’re thinking that, you’re right. Except this time, instead of kindergarten kids, it’s five cheerleaders and they don’t all disappear at the same time or for the same reason. In fact, these victims don’t really disappear at all. But they are all gone—two killed in a car wreck, two murdered by the man next door (who is subsequently shot by police so no clues there) and the last girl dies by suicide. Five years later, as Monica, sister of the suicide victim, suddenly finds herself at the centre of a series of weird and scary circumstances, the reader soon realizes that Monica herself is in dire danger. What a terrific read.

The narrator of this story is a writer whose friend is dying of cancer.

The friend asks the narrator to accompany her through her final days, including the contemplation of suicide. The writer reluctantly agrees.

One unusual thing about this novel is that none of the characters have names; they’re referred to as the daughter, the ex, or the friend. This jarred me at first, but I grew used to it.

The narrator takes mental excursions about many topics, musing as a writer. While this sounds like a depressing set-up, I found this story to be a thoughtful and tender statement about connection.

The two women become surprisingly close while sharing this intimate part of life. 

Oh, this one? It is everything. The villain is a virgin! Which deep down we all want. Seraphena is promised to him since childhood, groomed into marrying him and killing him in order to save her country. When the wedding night comes – he rejects her, leaving her behind. People blame her. If she hated him before, she loathes him even more. Until he reappears into her life to save her and they both fight this attraction. She still has a mission, and this is her excuse to try to seduce him. He is a tough nut to crack. He is actually more in control of himself than she is. As she grows to know him in his supernatural surroundings, hatred is hard to keep and so is distance…

While Piers Anthony boasts an amazing roster of books longer than my arm, one of my favorites, Shade of the Tree, reminds me of the primacy of nature. 

A father moves himself and his two young children to an estate deep in the Florida woods, an inheritance from his odd uncle. I recall reading it first as a young teenager when it first came out and growing enthralled with Anthony’s skill at creating nature itself as a character; in this case the brooding, eerie forest surrounding the estate.