100 Books Like Black Cherry Blues

I’m not a fan of novels that are paced like greased rockets, as if the author’s afraid you’ll suddenly throw the book across the room, turn on Netflix, and order a pizza. Which is a key reason I love this book. Precious Ramotswe is a “traditionally built” woman who solves crimes in a superbly witty yet unhurried fashion and with deep compassion that stops short of sentimentality.

Her heart (huge) and brain (gently incisive) work in perfect tandem in this book. The plot is simple, which will frustrate readers who prefer intricate puzzles in their crime fiction. But for me, the pleasure lies in leisurely getting to know this wise, ingenious detective and her humble neighborhood in Botswana’s capital city.

I admit I’m old enough that memories of the post-Vietnam War era had begun to fade (mercifully?) until this book brought them back into sharp focus.

Vientiane, Laos, in 1976, after the Communist takeover, is so vividly portrayed–from the scent of the “Crow Shit blossoms” on the banks of the Mekhong to the inertia of the socialistic hierarchy, to the chicken counter spies turning their neighbors in for their capitalistic extravagances. And I found the 72-year-old Laotian coroner protagonist so endearing!

His cynical outlook and visitations from the dead make him a singularly sage and unconventional hero who can roll with the wildly absurd changes of the new regime. 

This is a beast of a thriller at 700 pages, but I thoroughly enjoyed the deep dive nevertheless. American ex-spy Pilgrim is pitched against a Saudi mujahideen fighter known as the Saracen, who is bent on avenging himself against the United States with a chillingly devastating plan.

Both protagonist and antagonist are well fleshed out with detailed backstories that make the character development top-notch in this murder mystery-turned-spy terrorism thriller. There's an interesting switch between first and third person, which I've rarely encountered.

I found it quite engrossing, and many scenes linger long after I put the book down. It's a solid thriller that I could really get my teeth into.

Elroy wrote many other books before he took on this epic noir crime novel (one in a quartet). He made his bones in writing, and it's evident in his skill level, story, and prose. Elroy excels in this novel (and the other three) in voice. And voice is the Big Kahuna in writing, it’s the everything in writing and Elroy has it in spades.

Another great addition to the above is the length (because you don’t want this book to ever end) and that it’s a historical novel that absolutely captures the time period and adds the historical nuance to all the characters.

From the first page of this book, I was there. The drought-ridden farming community of Kiewarra, Australia, is evoked so vividly that the whole story feels as gritty and parched as the landscape. For me, this book has all the ingredients that make a claustrophobic setting even more intense: harsh weather conditions, hostile locals, and a dingy bar where fights break out and people drink away their troubles. For these reasons alone, I was sold! This is a community where everyone knows everyone, but they’re all under so much pressure you just know they’d turn on their neighbors in a heartbeat.

I’m also a sucker for a narrative in which someone who has moved away from their hometown is drawn reluctantly back, and this book has that in spades. The main character, Detective Aaron Falk, left Kiewarra under murky circumstances as a teenager and is forced to return when his… show more.

It’s no secret that I have a real fondness for Alaska–its landscape, people, and singular quirkiness. Southeast Alaska, where this novel is set, is its own idiosyncratic microcosm.

The bars for serious drinking, the sideways rain, the grab bag of misfit characters–is John Straley at his best in this novel. In his no-holds-barred yet fond portrayal of Alaska, where his protagonist spends most of his days in an alcoholic but observant haze, the 49th state is like a walk-on character actor who ends up eating the scenery. 

This book is the quintessential crime novel that is the closest thing to working the tough streets of Los Angeles. I worked in South Central Los Angeles as a patrol deputy, so I have a basis for this statement. It is a masterpiece of writing capturing the emotions of what it’s like to age out on a job rife with sorrow, constant threat of the unknown, and lots of blood.

I wrote 38 books before I sold my first novel, The Disposables, which gives me the basis to rate the writing craft in this one. For crime readers, this is one not to be missed. Put it at the top of your to-be-read pile.

This book is a real sleeper. If you haven’t read it, drop what you’re doing and order it; you won’t be disappointed. This book, more than any other, reminded me of Raymond Chandler in voice, story, and character. I am baffled that this book is not more widely known.

I read this one and immediately ordered the others in this series. This author, under a pen name, wrote an absolute killer book called Five Decembers, which would have been book six on this five-book list. I absolutely loved this one.

If I’m being honest—and I’m guessing Ben Shepherd would like me to be honest—I’d be content to list five Burke books here.

Burke is a national treasure. I don’t aggravate easily, but it aggravates me that he doesn’t have a Pulitzer Prize for fiction. He is one of the best combination writers and storytellers on the planet.

In this book, Burke’s protagonist, Dave Robicheaux, investigates a series of murders of prostitutes. There’s a connection to the murders and New Orleans gangster Julie “Baby Feet” Balboni.

In the book, Robicheaux also has conversations with Confederate General John Bell Hood, which has nothing to do with organized crime, but is a great example of Burke’s prowess as a writer. It was made into a 2009 movie starring Tommy Lee Jones as Robicheaux and John Goodman as Balboni. Robicheaux’s sidekick, Clete Purcell, is one of the best characters in crime fiction.

I’ve long been a fan of James Lee Burke’s novels. His lyrical and likely heartfelt descriptions of Louisiana’s land, water, and people offset and illuminate the contrasting violence. Burke acknowledges the darkness in humanity and the possibility of redemption.

Into that mix goes Dave Robicheaux, the protagonist, who had his own ups and downs. Robicheaux can read between the lines and keeps a pretty clear eye on the truth. Here’s the opening sentence of this book, Robicheaux narrating in his own way:

“Years ago, in state documents, Vachel Carmouche was always referred to as the electrician, never the executioner.”