The best books set in Memphis Tennessee

I don’t think I’ve ever read a book that had me experiencing as many emotions as The Passage. Starting in present day and bouncing between now and 100 years in the future, this story navigates the humanity (and lack thereof) of survivors of a vampiric apocalypse. The Passage was tugging at my heartstrings from the first chapter, and the dystopian world Cronin built around the book’s epidemic completely sucked me in. I was dealing with major anxiety when I first read this book, and the gripping story was some of the only relief I could find. I couldn’t put this book down and couldn’t wait for the next two to come out.

The decisions mothers are forced to make are often difficult, but it is terrifying to have those decisions taken from you.

When the five Foss children are scooped up by unscrupulous people under the guise of social services, the children’s best interests aren’t part of the discussion, and the repercussions are devastating to all.

Based on a horrific true story.

Me and a Guy Named Elvis is a book I couldn’t put down. My sister and I took a road trip to Graceland years ago and ever since we’ve been a bit fascinated by Elvis. Jerry is a regular guy who happens to meet Elvis right before he becomes a star. Jerry is several years younger, but that doesn’t matter. What ensues is a decades-long friendship that takes Jerry on many adventures -- some out of this world and some heartbreaking. It’s an inside look at Elvis the superstar as well as Elvis the “regular guy.”

Growing up in Memphis, I heard a lot about Elvis Presley. From there, it was just a side step to Sun Studio and Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash, and Jerry Lee Lewis. But there was this place across town — Stax. It was in a place called Soulsville, and it was magical. An old movie theater where Blacks and whites came together in the 1960s and ‘70s to make some of the best music anywhere — soul music. Not the polished sounds of Motown, but gritty, stirring music from the gut. In my writing a fictional world of music, the very real world of Otis Redding, Carla Thomas, Booker T. & the MG’s, and so many others provided inspiration against a backdrop of exultation, innovation, beauty, and tragedy. 

Jessica Patch is putting on her crown as the master of psychological creepy and she has made her mark with this novel. As an avid fan of the television show Criminal Minds, this book delivered all of that intrigue, creep, serial killer, and shivers while also merging it with faith and solid relationships. I thoroughly enjoy Jessica Patch, but definitely leave a light on!

Yellow fever, like many feared diseases, conjures up an image of faraway, steamy rain forests. At one time, yellow fever really was found there. But the disease—and the mosquito that carries it—didn't stay there. I was surprised to learn how prominent and feared yellow fever was in early Colonial America and that it persisted in the United States through the early 20th Century. Crosby provides background on the disease from Africa, its path to the Americas, and routine epidemics in New Orleans, but the book's primary focus is the account of the Yellow Fever Epidemic of 1878 that decimated Memphis, Tennessee, and other towns along the Mississippi River.  I liked this book for filling in the blanks in my awareness and understanding of this American plague. 

One of many of “the queen’s” paranormal/magical series, these novels—Blue Dahlia, Black Rose, and Red Lily—also date back nearly two decades. I was especially drawn by the historical mystery, featuring the mournful ghost of a woman who’s been haunting a family home for centuries. Roberts skillfully draws the intrigue through the series featuring three strong women tied together by a gardening business. In the first book, Blue Dahlia, we meet determined, successful Roz Harper, who owns the family business, and her new employees. Stella is a young widow and Hayley a single, expectant mother. As their stories weave throughout the trilogy, we’re treated to romances and the linking thread of the spooky, historical mystery. 

For my money, Stern is the South’s premiere literary comic writer. In this one, he is a Southern Philip Roth with an I.B. Singer twist. A teenage boy discovers a frozen rabbi in the Kelvinator inside his parent’s Memphis basement. The rabbi’s been frozen for one hundred years. Bernie thaws him and what ensues covers a universe of incident: teenage hope and angst, Talmudic wisdom, kabbalistic film-flammery, the seduction of all of Memphis, from lowlifes to elite, by a rabbi (who can fly) selling himself as the font of all magic and knowledge. Stern obviously loves his Memphis and his Jews. At the same time he skewers them with the sleekest wit. Even Israel gets a gratuitous knock. It was the only thing I did not like in the book but it was fleeting, so I got over it. Such is the power of genius.

By looking at three local NOW chapters around the country, Gilmore shows that the leading organization of 1960s feminism wasn’t nearly as centralized as people think. Memphis NOW, for example, was a radical feminist group simply by being a feminist group in the South. San Francisco NOW, by contrast, made coalitions with many more radical groups as they worked together to make change. A great read and an important insight into how NOW actually worked as an organization.

When my wife and I moved to Nashville, I was stunned to realize that most forms of American popular music had been born within 500 miles of our new home, in an arc from New Orleans (jazz) to the Mississippi Delta (blues) to Memphis (rock ’n’ roll) to Nashville (bluegrass) to Bristol (country). 

I began reading eagerly about American popular music, and my reading led to writing—most recently my novel about the birth of country music, Lord of the Mountain. This list gives you some of my favorite books.

The best of these is also one of my favorite biographies of any kind, Peter Guralnick’s magnificent Last Train to Memphis, the first volume of his essential two-volume story of Elvis Presley and the birth of rock ’n’ roll.

As a native New Yorker and lifelong fan of Harriet the Spy (one among legions) reading the product of Leslie Brody’s detective work into the life of her creator is a special pleasure. Born in 1928, Fitzhugh was the product of a high society Memphis marriage that ended in scandal. She went on to live a vibrant, turbulent life in the queer artist and writers scene in New York. It makes total sense that someone who straddled so many different worlds had such a deep understanding of the multiple lives we all lead, and such a keen ability to perceive other people, all of which she poured into her characters. I also recommend her other incredible YA novel, Nobody’s Family Is Going to Change, which tackles race, children’s rights, and the profound beauty of tap dancing.

In Memphis during the 1950s, there was Black and there was White, but the two rarely met. One of the few places where they did was in clubs and recording studios, and the sparks they struck started a fire that came to be called rock ’n’ roll. 

In this wonderfully rich stew of a book, author and filmmaker Robert Gordon walks the streets of Memphis, exploring the sights and sounds and smells of a unique, endlessly fascinating world. 

As Gordon’s publisher says, “This is a book about the weirdos, winos, and midget wrestlers who forged the rock ’n’ roll spirit.” As Rolling Stone says, “If you haven’t read this book, do it now.”