100 Books Like A Tip for the Hangman

I thought it was great to have Circe herself narrate her love affair with Odysseus.

The first half of the novel interestingly shares her tribulations growing up as a child in a family of gods. I found that this establishes a theme of immortality vs. mortality that the book explores in profound ways. Especially fascinating was Circe’s personal story of her love affair with Odysseus.

I was surprised and delighted that Miller included the resulting child, Telegonus, who is not in Homer but is in ancient myth. Even more surprising to me was Circe falling in love with Telemachus, Odysseus’ son by Penelope (also not in Homer!). This relationship allows the novel to end on a positive note as Circe learns to live like a mortal in her new life with Telemachus.

I first read Rediker’s work as a graduate student, and from the first pages, I was “hooked.”

Want to understand what made pirates tick? In this book, pirates are recast not as violent, unthinking brutes but as ordinary, sea-going laboring men driven to lawlessness by the brutal demands of expanding Atlantic trade.

I especially appreciated Rediker’s situating pirate behavior and customs within the broader world of maritime life. He argues that these outlawed men created a floating society that was then the most egalitarian and democratic in the Western world.

The development of both of these characters was amazing. Sometimes, you read a book where you relate to one character and not as much to the other. Not with this book!

Both voices and stories were gripping by themselves. Then, when they met, the explosions happened and you saw two “people” with the same background (but under vastly different circumstances), merge. 

Jordy Rosenberg does something clever and innovative with the historical fiction genre and reimagines the historical figure of Jack Sheppard as a transgender man. This is a bit of a two-for-one as there’s also the metatextual story, told through footnotes, of a contemporary trans academic who comes across the ‘confessions’ of Jack. It’s playful, knowing, and slippery. It made me think a lot about the nature of history and what we project onto the people of the past. It pairs beautifully with the Bad Gays podcast. 

I’ve never been to the marsh and fenlands of East England, but the descriptions of them in this book have made me really want to visit them!

This is absolutely the GOAT of lesbian historical fiction. Fingersmith is probably my favorite of Sarah Waters’ work, but this is simply iconic and changed my life when I read it as a teenager. 

It’s a raucous, vibrant riot of a book, and Nan is an unforgettable protagonist. Readers will barrel through the sights and sounds of Victorian London as Sarah Waters brings them to life in gorgeous technicolor. Sarah Waters is unbelievably skillful at blending Nan’s personal awakening in with the social and political context of England at the end of the 19th Century. A masterclass, and you’ll never see oysters in the same way again. 

This is the book that made me want to write a historical romance. The protagonist, Miss Jane Fairfield, is outlandishly rich. But she can’t get married and leave her younger sister, who has epilepsy, to the well-meaning but cruel treatments recommended by their uncle, who is also their guardian. Since her money makes her an appealing target for many an impoverished rake, Jane has to work extra to become unappealing while still seeming like she’s trying to attract a man. She wears obnoxiously bright clothing, insults people with the kindest tone, and—in one desperate attempt to make a man be mean to her—takes the food right off his plate. This is a book about people trying to put you in your place and keep you small. And let me give you a hint: it’s a romance, so there’s definitely a Happily Ever After, and that includes small-minded people getting their… show more.

When I lounge on the beach at an exclusive Caribbean resort, I typically lift my Pina Colada in a toast to my ancestors before taking my first sip. Vanessa Riley’s book increased my respect for the exploited and enslaved black women who lived in the Caribbean during the late 18th and early 19th centuries.

My heart broke with the emotional and psychological trauma and physical dangers that Doll endured to save herself and her children. The intrigue and suspense kept me riveted, constantly wondering how Doll would overcome her challenges. Riley tells a beautiful story of the least likely underdog, Dorothy "Doll" Kirwan Thomas, who survived despite the injustices and became one of the Caribbean's wealthiest and most influential entrepreneurs.

A queer and gender-bent retelling of Robin Hood, this book swept me off my feet. Combining the origins of Robin Hood, the repression of the poor and working class in this period in England, deep friendships, and a romance full of yearning, this story made me feel deeply. I felt Robyn’s desperation to feed her family and take on the Sheriff of Nottingham for destroying someone she loved. I felt Maid Marian’s struggle with her realization that she is, indeed, a lesbian in love with Robyn. I felt it all in my bones. The book takes what people love about a Robin Hood story and makes it even more radical with its inclusion of lesbian and trans characters, and doesn’t shy away from the realities of rebelling against power.

I have a soft spot for this book. It provides probably the most well-known modern pop culture image of the king–and James does not come off well. Though he’s presented as highly intelligent and calculating, he is also shown to publicly and constantly play the clown: expect to see him drooling, falling about, and squeaking with terror as he cowers behind others on seeing unsheathed swords.

This is absolutely not what the real James was like–and I imagine he’d have had Tranter’s head for suggesting it–but it is a fun, ahistorical read (which gets bonus points for delightfully ludicrous subplots about Shakespeare touring Scotland scouting for locations and Queen Anna engaging in a lesbian romance with the Countess of Huntly).

I loved this book for its humanity and the language she used to pithily emphasize characters and situations. There was not an excess word employed. She compassionately realized every character and gave them wisdom, angst, and a tragic sense of loss. I found it utterly absorbing and have reread it several times.