Books like Billy Liar — picked by fans

This is a book that has sparked a thousand imitations. If a writer isn’t honest, he’s not doing his job, and Nick Hornby is painfully honest here about his self-destructive, blokey obsessions with football and music. It’s a trailblazer of a book and a theme that resonates with a lot of men, me included.

Why would anyone seriously want to attend a family wedding when your team is playing in a cup final? How inconsiderate can a couple be to get married on the final day of the cup? To hold those thoughts–without a hint of irony–is viewed as an affliction and an absurdity by many. But of course, they don’t understand! 

It's not an easy read, but I read this one and Cormac McCarthy’s The Road back-to-back. These are two books about lost souls walking away from something, not knowing where they’re going.

Michael K is another character who invokes more sympathy/pity than admiration. Sometimes, I didn’t overly care about Michael K’s suffering, feeling he’d brought it on himself. Mostly, though, I wanted him to find his simple peace.

JM Coetzee is such a good writer. His sparse but full sentences always deliver something.

When a prospective agent asked me who I most aspired to be like as a writer, I said Percival Everett. Her response was, ‘But you’re not black?’

To me, labeling Percival Everett as a ‘black writer’ does him a huge disservice because, above all else, he’s unpredictable, quirky, and seriously funny. I love this book because it’s weird and subverted, with a hero who’s a mathematical expert in nothing–confronted by a villain who wants to steal and control nothing. It’s fun and frothy, with tangents and trapdoors all over the place. Like most, I came to Percival Everett via The Trees and backtracked. I'm glad I found him, though. 

I like Miles Jupp and his self-deprecating humor. I imagine him to be very polite. Here, he blags his way around India, trying to convince others–and himself–that he’s a cricket journalist.

The book is funny but also painful, a bit like watching The Office; you’ll laugh one minute and probably wince the next. Miles is often bumbling and apologetic and is not a very good ‘fibber in the heat.’ Yet he keeps on fibbing. Politely! People soon work him out, but all the same, he earns loads of sympathy as an underdog in desperate need of some charity.  

This book wrecked me; it’s such a deep dive into the lives of the woman brutally murdered by Jack the Ripper. Rubenhold reconstructs their lives with great empathy, bringing them to the forefront of the story. The five were real women who felt love, pain, and hope—not faceless victims of sensationalized murder.

These women are often portrayed as “five prostitutes” in pop culture, but Rubenhold shows that there is no evidence of sex work for most of the women. This book pulls back the curtain on the tension, violence, poverty, and heartbreak in Victorian London. This book brought me to absolute tears. 

I devoured this book on the recommendation of my friend Otis Gibbs, a songwriter with a particular interest in the great tradition of songs of, by, and for the working class. “Educate – Agitate – Organize,” reads the Joe Hill mural painted on the side of a rare books store in Salt Lake City, where the Wobbly songwriter was sentenced to death by firing squad in 1915. In The Man Who Never Died (2011), journalist William M. Adler contextualizes the vital importance of songs like Hill’s to the union movement, and he uncovers new details about the activist’s controversial conviction.

I first came across this book as an undergraduate student many years ago. I was drawn to the book because it covered a topic that was not very common at the time, namely the Egyptian working class. Beinin and Lockman’s study of how the working class navigated the three major intellectual currents of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries—nationalism, religion, and Communism—opened my eyes to social history as no other book had done. Workers on the Nile analyses how Egypt brutally is drawn into the global capitalist system in the nineteenth century and how this process produced a native working class (alongside a large community of European ex-pat workers). Gradually the working class comes of age by organising its labour, and eventually, this gives rise to more radical politics in the shape of Communism, Islamic activism, and nationalist tendencies.

I still remember reading James Alan McPherson’s book for the first time. I was a senior in high school, one of a handful of black students in what had been an all-white private school. I closed the book, thinking, “Finally. Somebody understands.”

Like me, McPherson had gone from an all-black school, college in his case, to a majority-white school, in his case, Harvard Law. He began to write fiction there. It was the mid-1960s, but instead of hewing to familiar tropes of the time, black student unrest, black self-segregation, and black victimhood, McPherson cast an unflinching eye on blacks and whites interacting for the first time as equals.

He also depicted blacks in their own world lovingly but without sentimentality. I knew these people. McPherson taught me to see and appreciate them afresh.

Travis is an apprentice engineer of trans-quantum chambers, stations that transport people to cities all over the universe. On a risky maintenance assignment, something goes wrong, trapping Travis on a distant planet with limited resources as he tries to solve the mystery of what killed all the humans on this world.

The world-building here is a lot of fun to imagine. Combine that with Wilson's descriptive prowess, and you have an immersive adventure to the stars that appeals to the sci-fi nerd that I am.

Rick Bragg’s obsession with a grandfather he ever knew was fascinating. This was a man who lived during the Great Depression. He didn’t wear clothes with holes in them because that was popular, he did it because those were the only clothes he owned. It unveiled the ability of an ordinary man to do extraordinary things, an impressive accomplishment.