100 books like The Wrong Words

I laugh out loud at the awkward social situations Lady Georgina, 34th in succession to the throne of England, gets into.

Although she has been trained in all the proper graces, she is impoverished, and I find her creative, muddled attempts to figure out who murdered the body in her bathtub while meeting royal expectations endearing and amusing. I also enjoy glimpses into the mores of the royal family in 1930. 

Terry Fallis makes politics fun. No really. Okay, this isn’t a whodunit as in murder. But the ending is very surprising. Angus McLintock is a crusty old engineering professor who will do anything to avoid teaching English to engineers. The university will give him leave to let his name stand in the election. So, he does; no need to campaign; he is certain to lose. He wants to lose. This campaign had me in stitches. Sometimes you have to branch out from your chosen genre. I did, and I not only learnt a lot, I laughed a lot.

I’m more likely to read mysteries with cats than with dogs, so when I enthuse over one of the latter, my recommendation can be trusted. I listened to this book, and it was love at first bite. It was my first earful.

The book is narrated by Chet, a failed police dog trainee. He partners with Bernie, a failing private eye, whom Chet sees as the best, bravest, smartest PI ever. Except for maybe where money is concerned or when it comes to things like Hawaiian shirts. Or Hawaiian pants. I’m with Chet on the Hawaiian pants. What was Bernie thinking? But I’ve never met a more loyal dog or well-meaning PI, and no matter what trouble they have along the way, Chet and Bernie win the day.  

Move over, Miss Marple. Agatha Raisin is on the job. The story takes place in a quaint English country village. Agatha, the protagonist, is a bull in a tea shop. I like that Agatha is not perfect. Perfect is boring. In this story, she lets her jealousy get in the way and becomes the prime suspect. M.C. Beaton is a master at descriptions; in a few words, you can see the character and the surroundings. ‘If you want to write, you must read.’ A great piece of advice. I learned a lot from M. C. Beaton.

Jack Hodgins, Western Canada’s literary wunderkind, put Vancouver Island on the literary map with his short stories and novels which demonstrate the truth in the adage “write about what you know”. As a writer I learned this from Jack and I also learned that if I find a subject fascinating my readers will too. In Broken Ground, his seventh novel, Jack writes about World War One veterans, still haunted by the horror of the trenches, as they struggle to farm amid the massive stumps of a former old growth forest.

Packed with detail about Victoria, Vancouver Island, and the Gold Rush days in British Columbia, I thought this book was engaging, epic, funny (wait until the camels appear—and the wake!), and a real page-turner. I swooned over the descriptions of the landscape and would go so far as to say the land and sea, so alive in this book, should be considered a character. I was so profoundly invested in the fates of Jim, Dora, and Eugene, that I almost missed how cunningly the novel took on gender, class, and race, illuminating so many of the contemporary issues dogging us here on the coast.  

This book is a literary novel set in part on the Moon. That’s not a sentence you’ll read often, which is a big part of why I love this novel—it’s not what I expected, even though there’s a big hint in the title.

Like many readers, my introduction to Emily St. John Mandel was her post-apocalyptic novel Station Eleven. In that story, the most interesting characters aren’t concerned with simple survival…if they are going to fight to live, they want a culture worth fighting for. When I picked this book up, I deliberately chose not to read the story summary and was completely caught off guard by how the novel unfolded. Typically, stories questioning time and our perception of reality do so by sending the protagonist on a dangerous quest looking for answers.

Like all my favorite novels, the scope is intimate and vast in this one. The story… show more.

In this profound and devastating novella, Campbell gives us a complex, multi-generational window on a post-warming, post-collapse world rebuilding itself. A cathedral grown, not built, out of living trees. A masterwork violin made from dying old-growth Sitka spruce that will long outlast the hand of its creator. A decaying library salvaged, its wealth of knowledge distributed to the living hands that need it most. Through these touchstones of human resilience and ingenuity, we're shown a path forward into a new world that doesn't escape loss or ignore it, but is burgeoned up by it into new vitality.

The late Terry Reksten, a researcher par excellence, spent much of her career writing about Robert Dunsmuir, a former indentured coal miner who became the richest man in British Columbia, and his descendants. Terry devoted most of this book to the building of Craigdarroch Castle and to the way Dunsmuir’s children and grandchildren spent his fortune, but it complements the coal mining books I have written that tell the stories of the men who dug the coal that built that fortune.

I began this book aware that it was inspired by one of the most striking scandals ever (no need to mention which). So, I can’t say that the pivotal twist came as a surprise. Quite the opposite—it felt a bit like starting an Agatha Christie thriller knowing that the butler did it.

However, I was completely captivated by the character of Vincent (who is, I can safely reveal, a woman) and the way the story is intricately crafted around her. I enjoyed every line of this tale, in which I found a brilliant example of how a plot can skillfully put the events at the service of the characters, allowing their psychological traits to take center stage.