100 books like Tsotsi

Cummings and his friend William Slater Brown were imprisoned in a detention center for foreign ‘undesirables,’ and to this day we are guilty of locking people up because they are stateless or nationals of another country. Behrouz Boochani’s No Friend but the Mountains, translated by Omid Tofighian, recounts his imprisonment along with fellow refugees on Manus Island. It is a visceral and vivid account, and it speaks in an unrefusable voice. I think it is an act of true human generosity that someone who has suffered so much at our collective hands would still choose to reach out and tell his own story; simply choosing to speak is an act of great hope and belief.

Since long before COVID, Ruth Coker Burks has lived a life of service to people who were abandoned by their families after being diagnosed with AIDS.

In the dark days of that epidemic, she cared for them, advocated for them, even buried them in her own family plot in Arkansas. She persevered despite relentless bigotry and hatred that included cross-burnings on her front lawn. Nothing stopped her.

Coker Burks earned the nickname ‘cemetery angel’ by proving that everyone can make a difference in the lives of others. I’m honored that we have become friends, because she inspires me every day.

In 2015, Chanel Miller was sexually assaulted outside a party on Stanford’s campus. The media gave her assailant a name and a backstory—Brock Turner, the Stanford Swimmer—while she was quickly reduced to a nameless victim—Emily Doe.

Her beautifully written memoir and her victim impact statement, which went viral when published on BuzzFeed, are a reclamation of identity. Despite its subject matter, Know My Name manages to be as hopeful as it is heartbreaking. This comes partly from her vivid, clear prose and partly from Miller’s own resilience.

I heard Dr. Izzeldin Abuelaish speak at the Auckland Writer’s Festival some years back now. The auditorium was packed, yet you could hear a pin drop, so moved was the audience by this man’s profound humanity. A dedicated physician who, despite having suffered personal tragedy in the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, has not allowed hatred or revenge to corrode his life. He continues to work tirelessly for peace and resolution in the troubled Gaza region and is a beacon of hope for all mankind. 

Sipho is a young man with nothing to lose. He drops out of high school and joins a car-stealing syndicate. The novel is part thriller and part coming-of-age tale, and the story takes the reader on an emotional journey as Sipho is sucked deeper and deeper into South African township crime. The author grew up in this township, and but for his other talents might have followed the same path as his protagonist. A remarkable look at the reality of township life and its effect on the youth.

This book starts in the same moment as Slayground, but follows Alan Grofield as he flees the scene, instead of Parker.

Grofield is more of a grifter than a straight-out thief, and his roles in the thieving scams tend to reflect that. I love that his true love is acting and him taking scores is simply a means to allow him to pursue that passion.

I enjoy the slightly lighter tone of the Grofield novels, though they are still what I’d call gritty. And I love how Stark created a “Parker-verse” long before the idea of an IP universe was commonplace.

This book grabbed me by the throat and refused to let go.

Jordan Harper does more with suggestion and a few well-crafted sentences than some writers accomplish in an entire novel. When he needs to be brutal, he’s a monster. When he needs to be tender, your eyes sting.

Polly is both a badass and a little girl—I don’t know how Harper pulled that off. And I have never cared so much about a stuffed animal as I have Polly’s teddy bear.

Thoroughly enjoyed reading about the various fates of a shipload full of convict women who at the time were barely more than chattels of men. Susannah Watson was one of many women who stole in England to feed her starving children and found herself transported for 14 years (which in reality became a lifetime). These survivor women were inspiring and resilient in a pioneering time.

In adapting Nicholas Pileggi’s 1985 non-fiction Wiseguy for film, Martin Scorsese delivered a “staged documentary,” depicting a far more gritty and authentic account of organized crime than Mario Puzo’s Godfather trilogy.

Much of what makes Pileggi’s masterpiece work is how he captures South Brooklyn culture as it morphs from the 1950s through the 1980s. Pileggi’s tale of the tarnishing of the Golden Era of Italian American organized crime is recounted from the pedestrian perspective of un-makeable underling and ultimate-turncoat Henry Hill.

That bygone Brooklyn landscape leaps off the pages, from its gambling dens and gangster bars, to its corner cafes, criminal courts, and cab stands. BONUS: Pileggi’s no-nonsense non-fiction prose, peppered with Hill’s verbatim account, delivers even more days-in-the-lives of lowlifes than Scorsese could ever have packed into his classic film. 

Locations of interest: The Prospect Park Zoo (stand-in for The Tampa Zoo); Smith Street in Red Hook (Jimmy Conway’s… show more.

Traumatized at the age of eight, causing him to be mute for ten years, Michael has a talent. He can pick any lock, no matter how complicated, and that includes safes. You can see where I’m going with this, right? It doesn’t take long to find out where that questionable talent leads him, because he’s just been released from a ten-year stint in prison. Michael is a heartbreaking character who is unwittingly led down the wrong path. The author unfolds the story through Michael’s narrative, slipping back and forth in time to explain how he got where he is, culminating in the tragic moment that sent Michael into his world of silence. The story is original and creative in character delineation and suspense.