16 books like The Lizzie Vogel

A confession: Lissa Evans is one of my very favourite authors. I’ve greatly enjoyed all her books, and this one is a brilliant example. It’s crammed full of likeable and fallible characters–as well as some equally believable horrors–attempting to deal with the ridiculousness of life. 

Reading it, I felt I was never far away from a good laugh, either a chuckle-worthy turn of phrase or a riotous set piece. Yet, along with escaped city pigs, procreating giant snails, and porno-mag chomping tortoises, I loved that there is poignancy and even tragedy. So much so I found myself late at night worrying for the fate of some of her characters.

I’ll never understand why humorous writing is less respected than the more literary kind. Yet, I believe creating characters that are both convincing and amusing and steering them through a complicated plot–without letting the humour flag–takes great skill. For me, this is what the author Stevyn Colgan achieves in his South Herewardshire books, the first of which is A Murder to Die For. 

I found the laughs just kept on coming as farce piled upon farce. As well as giving me a good chuckle, I relished the rural setting, a touching reminder of the splendors and eccentricities of English village life that I, for one, would be sad to lose.

This classic satire gripped me even though I only half-understood it. Whatever disaster befell my family, my mother used to assert it was surely for the best; so when, as an eye-rolling teenager, I found this on the reading list—Mum’s philosophy, tested in the real world—I was hooked.

OK, the eighteenth century was racist, sexist, and colonial… but perspective is what Voltaire is all about. Didn’t quite cure me of optimism, btw.

I love the delightful daftness, the sheer infantile silliness of this autobiography; it’s proof you can preserve your inner child well into maturity. Words are like Play-Doh to our Bob.

The comedian’s early years were marked by sadness, but he celebrates the power of having a laugh and hanging out with your mates. It made perfect sense to me to learn that the book came about because of a brush with heart failure.

It’s one of those books I dip into for a quick fix.

Believe me; I know how hard it is to write humour. To produce a successful comedic novel with laugh-out-loud lines as a debut novelist is no mean feat, but for me, Jane Ions has pulled it off with this book. 

I found the voice of Sally Forth (I know!) engaging and hilarious from the off. There was so much for me to enjoy, from the wayward teenage son living in a lean-to in the garden to Sally’s long-suffering and respectable husband, who just happens to be an MP.

I love this kind of well-observed comedy that treats its characters, no matter how misguided, with kindness and compassion. 

I’m a sucker for a good title, and this one had me hooked before I read a word. But the fun doesn’t stop there with this cosy spy thriller. Reading this book left me breathless.

The pace never lets up as the hapless Dawson travels to Australia where, confused, he is chased by a colourful collection of Germans, Russians, Brits, and Aussies, all intent on getting their hands on the eponymous teapot. 

I love books where the underdog finds their inner hero, and Dawson–with some help from the resourceful Lucy–is such a character. I galloped through this witty, clever book, eager to discover the secret of that teapot. I wasn’t disappointed.

I was hungry for a great piece of comic writing when a friend handed me this book, and it delivered so much more than laughter.

Once I’d tuned in to the language, I ended up shambling through 30s London alongside impecunious painter Gulley Jimson. A humble man, driven by a holy need to make the sort of art which, it turns out, nobody wants, he encounters a world of squalor and beauty, both physical and moral.

I grew to love him and his daily observations on the play of weather and light on the Thames, which form a sort of sketchbook. As Jimson’s physical health declines, he grips beauty wherever he finds it. Theroux, Lessing, and Updike all rated this author.

I adore this book because it is so unique—I’ve never read anything quite this specific or niche which seems so all-encompassing.

It is the story of a life lost, and a life found. Of a father that dies and how the recovery of his daughter is tied up with the start of a new relationship—with a goshawk.

At the outset, the author is so wonderfully eloquent on all aspects of loss; the sudden jarring sense of confusion when a person dies and you have their possessions still in your hands; the struggle to keep in touch with reality (“for weeks I felt like I was made of dully burning metal”); the desperation to see the back of grief when new relationships are desperately grasped at, and fail of course, because of that desperation. 

The goshawk saves her (and us) from the darkness, as she becomes gripped with the… show more.

This isn’t a novel but a collection of Nina’s letters back home to her sister in Leicester when she was thrown into the thick of literary north London in the 1980s. Young Nina has taken a job as a nanny and is suddenly expected to create edible meals (there’s a lot of turkey mince) and fit into a very different household to the one she grew up in.

I love how Nina is shocked and delighted by how much garlic they use while cooking, and her relationship with the two boys she looks after had me chuckling throughout. The fact that Alan Bennett lives over the road, and is forever popping in, is the icing on the cake of this fabulous memoir. 

Who can resist a diary? It’s hard not to fall in love with the title character, who’s on a perpetual quest for self-improvement. As Bridget, a lovable thirty-something singleton, finds herself in dozens of entertaining and embarrassing situations, she navigates them with her trademark pluck.

Very loosely based on Pride and Prejudice and complete with its own Mr. Darcy, I adored this novel and yearned for Bridget to realize she’s a catch exactly as she is. I read this at a time in my life when I, too, was a work in progress, and finding Bridget felt like connecting with a funny friend.