Books like A Most Peculiar Act — picked by fans

As someone who considers her brother her creative muse, I would describe this novel as one interested in siblings.

Between Leonie and Given, and Jojo and Kayla is an indescribable, utterly unique bond, held within and beyond both family and friendship. 

I was utterly consumed by this heartbreaking novel. From the opening scene where Pop and Jojo kill and skin a goat, to the heat in Leonie’s car and the scene of Jojo’s police cuffing, Ward delivers a pace, language, and viscerality that means you can’t look away. 

Somewhat surprisingly, I was even compelled by the book’s ghostly elements. I found they enhanced the magnitude of the characters’ burdens, especially for thirteen-year-old Jojo, who already shoulders so much.

I highly recommend this book, as a pleasure and as a duty to your fellow human beings. 

I loved the Glaswegian (quasi-Irish!) voice of Shuggie Bain, but what I will always remember it for is its gut-wrenching depiction of the consequences of poverty and alcoholism for the titular child character. 

There were times when I was reading this novel that I literally flinched from it. It’s one of the most poignant times that I can remember having such a visceral reaction to a book. 

What I found truly remarkable was the book’s sense of simultaneous inevitability and hope. At once, I felt that there was only one possible end for Agnes and Shuggie, and yet I also somehow believed that both characters would escape their miserable situation.

This idea, that hope sustains even against the most improbable odds, accesses something fundamentally human. A book that can do that is one I would recommend any day.

This was my first introduction to Richard Flanagan’s writing, and it was the beginning of a deep, ongoing love affair.

I adore and admire Flanagan’s prose and the small, often invisible truths it contains. What I loved about Wanting was how it delved into and distinctly portrayed the innermost thoughts and feelings of multiple characters.

When interviewed, Flanagan describes this book as his attempt to understand passion, desire, and wanting. I can attest that Wanting is a nuanced and sympathetic portrayal of what motivates human behaviour and how this process can become incredibly twisted and rife with ill intent. 

In Mathina’s story, there is little light or hope. An indictment of what happens to the discarded when the powerful don’t want them anymore, her downfall is tender, devastating, and utterly important as an emotionally charged, narrative account of Australian history.

I am a die-hard Tim Winton fan, but I only recently picked up The Shepherd’s Hut. True to form, Winton produced yet another Australian masterpiece: I can still call myself a Winton fanatic. 

Like always, I loved Winton’s distinctly Australian voice and setting and the delicate care with which he approached Jaxie’s character. Not a single sentence nor word is wasted; every moment is brimming with Australianess. 

The transformation of Jaxie’s remoteness to rough tenderness is where this book is at its best. In Fintan McGillis, Jaxie finally finds a parental figure who sticks by him, who leads with love, even when he’s tough, and who doesn’t leave first.

This novel defied my expectations and didn’t end where or how I thought it would. I thoroughly enjoyed embarking on this derailed journey with Jaxie. 

Before I was an author, I was primarily a national magazine copy editor, a job I finally scored after eight years of climbing up the magazine journalism ladder.

I wrote once in a while, but this mostly meant TV recaps by the time I was entrenched in magazines. But one day, an article about a safe-driving activist crossed my desk, and soon I was speaking with him in high schools.

Around the time I checked off “swim the width of a river” from my father’s bucket list, I also read Huckleberry Finn, as the setting seemed only right. I wrote a tribute to it in the second chapter of my book. My dad’s favorite author was Twain, but what I appreciated about him was that he wrote the novel as veiled propaganda. It’s a book that professes Twain’s anti-racism perspective. He just put his cause into a novel.

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In my teenage years in the 1970s, I read science fiction voraciously. I loved the ideas and imaginativeness, but it was all rather serious stuff. So, I was delighted when I discovered Robert Sheckley, a rare humorist and absurdist in a largely serious genre. 

I reckon his best novel is this one. It tells the story of a rather dull civil servant who wins the grand prize in a galactic lottery. He is whisked across space and time to Galactic Central to receive his prize: a shape-shifting, talking device/creature. Unfortunately, there is no provision for returning home, so an absurd journey begins from galactic bureaucracy to bizarre alternative Earths and homes. Maybe.

In addition to this book, I recommend diving into any of Sheckley's short story collections.

Oy, forget the mediocre movie. George Burns was perfectly cast but the reason God appears as a little old Jewish man is that he’s granting an interview to a Jewish freelance journalist, not a white bread grocery store clerk played by John Denver. This book taught me that a writer could be laugh out loud funny and still have something serious to say, something I’ve aspired to in my own fiction.

Francis Plug is a drunken fictional author crashing literary festivals, manufacturing chaos in whichever space he steps into, collecting autographs of “real writers,” and offering absurd wisdom on how to behave like a proper prize-winning novelist.

It’s satire for writers and readers who love the literary world... and love to roast it, too.

Max Barry’s satirical science-fiction novel, Machine Man, is a dark and funny mediation on contemporary society’s compulsive over-reliance on technology. The narrator, Charles Neumann, is a mechanical engineer who, while obsessively searching for his phone, loses his leg in an industrial accident. After building himself a new machine leg, Charles purposely loses his other leg, so he can replace it with another machine leg. After seeing how great his new legs work, Charles wonders if maybe he should replace more of his body parts with machine parts, begging the question: Where does humanity end and technology begin?

I can totally relate to his non-conformist views on subjects that too many unthinking flocks of people religiously believe in. I absolutely love the way he fearlessly challenges societal norms and his generally humorous discussion of taboo subjects.