74 Books Like A Private Disgrace

This book grabbed me and never let go. Humor was infused within the tragic backdrop of Nazi Germany with perfect harmony. I loved the undying loyalty and friendship that was built between jailed teenager, Lev and his Sundance sidekick, Kolya and the eclectic band of characters they bond with while searching for a dozen eggs to use for the colonel’s daughter’s wedding cake.

Hilarious and sad. I laughed out loud many times, then my guts turned inside out from the tragic circumstances plaguing the young men as their life hung in the balance searching for those dozen eggs. 

I very nearly stopped reading this book–even though it’s so short as it starts off unbelievably abstract. I didn’t know what was going on, and the descriptions only added to the confusion. But I’m so glad I kept going.

The main character does amnesia in the most charming way, and discovering his past and the strange world he seems both lost in and totally at home in was absolutely enchanting. This has stuck with me ever since, like the most vivid fever dream.

Hazel Micaellef, 62, a police officer in a small town in Ontario, is divorced, overweight, has back problems, and drinks too much. I am from a small town and divorced. Liquor is not my vice. I am, however, completely at home in the fictional and slightly seedy Port Dumas where locals have long memories. When human bones are found on land that formerly housed orphans, many of the town’s ugly secrets bubble up. The plot is complex and the setting immersive. I would not necessarily want to live in a place like Port Dumas…but I have.

This is the last Bernie Gunther novel, in a series that is über noir, and whose protagonist is a police detective who is a member of the SS in Nazi Germany. 

In Metropolis, Gunther learns that murder has become the subject of an art movement, Lustmord, or “lust murders” which focused on the brutal, sexual-tinged serial killings of women and prostitutes in 1930s Berlin.

A scene in the book of a famous German expressionist sketching a murder victim in the morgue is all the more chilling, since I know it to be true. I’ve been fascinated with the art movements of this era, and have seen the exhibits of Lustmord paintings, which are still in museums today. 

There have been loads of books written about Lizzie Borden, but very few that I have enjoyed as much as this one. It's brilliantly well-written and extremely accurate. Taylor does a thorough job of explaining the history and circumstances that led to the murders of Andrew and Abby Borden. Plus, he puts forth a theory on who the killer was, a theory that a), I had not heard before, and b), makes a whole lot of sense. When I do presentations on the Borden murders, this is the book I always recommend people read for a detailed look at the crime. 

I loved this book for so many reasons. The biggest reason is that setting! I loved how Sager truly used this gothic, cliffside crumbling manor to help tell the creepiest and twistiest tale.

Also I couldn’t have guessed that plot twist in a million years either and that’s always a plus when reading a thriller!

I generally don’t gravitate toward slasher horror with its brutal and gory storytelling, but I could not resist this fantastic anthology of superb horror authors focused on women's slasher stories. With supernatural twists and takes of revenge and violence, I greatly enjoyed the variety of styles and plots generally centered around the theme of women having to turn the tables in or take matters into their own hands, usually with blood-soaked results.

In particular, my favorites were standout stories by Cynthia Pelayo, R.J. Joseph, Sarah Budd, Stephanie Rabig, and Laurel Hightower, but they were all winners. I also appreciate that the anthology helped me discover new women horror authors, broadening my ever-growing to-be-read list.

Everyone knows who Lizzie Borden is, and everyone thinks they know whether or not she did it. But what few people know about is her trial. I have always been pretty obsessed with the Lizzie Borden story (hint: she’s totally guilty). But this book put a whole new spin on the country’s original true crime.

I loved reading about the legal proceedings that put Lizzie front and center of a violent crime (not a common place for a woman to be in Gilded Age America). It painted Lizzie in a more vulnerable light than the axe-wielding murderess I had always pictured her as. It also helped explain why she was acquitted.

I’ve long admired Sebastian Junger, who writes with precision, empathy, and intelligence.

He’s best known for A Perfect Storm, but in A Death in Belmont, a 1962 photograph shows him as an infant in his mother’s lap, posing with the two carpenters who’d just added an art studio to the Jungers’ home: The younger man is Albert DeSalvo, later known as The Boston Strangler.

Junger argues, convincingly but not definitively, that DeSalvo may have been responsible for the rape-murder of Bessie Goldberg, who lived near the Jungers, despite the conviction, based on circumstantial evidence, of Roy Smith, an African-American man seen walking the neighborhood,

My copy is feathered with Post-it notes marking passages that speak to the nature of murder and the difficult process of investigating a wrongful conviction.

As a Harvard undergrad, Cooper hears a story about an anthropology professor who murdered a female graduate student with whom he was having an affair, burning her body with cigarette butts and surrounding her in red ochre.

This “macabre legend” illustrates a common critique of true crime—a victim provided no name and no identity beyond the way she was brutalized. A former New Yorker editorial staff member, Cooper performed meticulous research on the 1969 murder, debunking the affair rumor and instead exploring a more interesting story about memory, institutional power, and misogyny in academia.

She also excavates the story of the crime’s victim, 23-year-old Jane Britton. Full of twists and turns, this real-life whodunit provides an exacting portrait of who Jane was and what her loved ones lost.