100 Books Like Butcher's Crossing

This was one of the strangest, most beautiful books I’ve ever read. At first, the format can throw you off. A chorus of dead voices, snippets of historical and imagined texts? But once I got into the rhythm, it felt like something sacred. The cemetery setting becomes a limbo space where spirits cling to their stories, fears, and unfinished business.

I found myself unexpectedly emotional, especially in how it portrayed grief—Lincoln’s grief, yes, but also the collective grief of the dead. It made me think about what we leave behind and how love can echo even after death. It was haunting in the best way.

I love that this book does such a great job of capturing the many incongruities and quirks of life in South Africa, a country with such a complex, troubled history that it is still struggling to reconcile.

It’s a country of immense diversity (racially, politically, and culturally), which leads to some absurd situations. Some funny, some tragic. And it’s set against an incredibly unique and beautiful natural backdrop, and it’s at the bottom of the world, literally representing the global south/periphery. So there’s a ton of dramatic tension inherent.

I also relate with Noah’s story just in terms of the cross-cultural element; growing up with parents from different places and never quite fitting in. And yet he tackles these very serious, very bleak situations and experiences, at both the micro and macro levels, with humor.

I loved this book because it shows that the setting/particulars of the “journey” don’t actually matter.

It’s all about the author’s voice, perspective, and, in this case, their sense of humor. If these aspects are unique and engaging, it doesn’t matter where they went, or if you have any interest in seeing/doing those things for yourself.

I’ve always felt like I can resonate more with people that are willing to admit their fallibility, and even draw attention to/make light of it. To just how ignorant or clumsy or hapless or cowardly they are. I think that always makes for a better, more human story, a better connection with the reader.

On top of all this, I have a soft spot for the Appalachian Trail, since it crosses through Pennsylvania, only a few miles from where I grew up.

I love this one because of the premise: Theroux wants to go up the west coast of Africa, with the caveat that he will go via overland methods only – no planes.

The thinking is that having to traverse the land (or water) itself, however circuitous, tedious, or even dangerous the journey may be, gives us a much greater appreciation for the places we visit. It gives our experiences texture and forces us to be in the present.

I think this is a critical message for us in the modern world. We have this idea that convenience and comfort and speed are necessarily aspirational. But if everything’s streamlined, we end up taking things for granted and essentially just ghosting through life.

The HBO series was great, but the book was even better.

Prior viewing of the series in no way detracted from my enjoyment of this book. Dexter’s writing is quirky and unique. Existential insights are slipped seamlessly into scenes of violence and vulgarity. The sacred and profane coexist in ways that shatter notions of duality.

As someone who has lived in the West most of my adult life and studied Western history in depth, I appreciated his nuanced exposure of humanity in the midst of darkness on the frontier. Also, this Western novel features unique female characters who defy stereotypes, which are rare in the Western genre. 

This book is a bit of a departure from my other picks because it’s nonfiction and doesn’t take place in the nineteenth-century United States.

Even though this book has a lot of scholarly and historical references, I found it riveting. I’ve always been interested in the ancient world and Jezebel made me feel like I was there. The scholarly digressions from the story are both relevant and fascinating.

This book taught me that propaganda and spin doctoring are ancient practices. The power of the Jezebel story still influences modern culture and attitudes. Zealotry and intolerance are as old as history and still plague our society. 

This novel takes place during the Napoleon Wars.

The guilty conscience, PTSD, and war crimes of a British Captain drive him to seek tranquility in the Scottish Hebrides. Before reading this novel, I knew little about this time period and had never heard of the Scottish Hebrides.

The author transported me to the Hebrides so accurately that when I looked up pictures after finishing the novel they were the exact replicas of those in my imagination.

This novel has an existential heart yet is plot-driven and action-packed with romance and even moments of humor. The flow of prose and the incorporation of dreams into the story carried me to the last page and made me sad when it ended.

I love this essay for the same reason I love so much of DFW’s nonfiction. His voice is completely unique; unashamedly neurotic and over-analytical, to the extent that the stated objective of the trip (the piece is about his week on a cruise ship, which advertises guaranteed total relaxation, pampering, and convenience) is completely – and often comically – undermined.

It resonates with me because I’ve always had trouble with the whole “Just live in the moment!” shtick, so it was very inspiring/validating to discover someone who had made their being an outsider/misfit a strength. To see someone just be unashamedly themselves. So that’s what I took away.

Don’t keep your neuroticism and self-consciousness and eccentricity to yourself to try and seem “normal,” but actually lean into those things. Question things that nobody else seems to be questioning.

Seventh in Mizushima’s series, this is her best book ever! It’s a very personal story with ties back to Deputy Mattie Cobb’s past. In Striking Range, a woman who has recently given birth is found dead in a mountain campground and her baby is nowhere to be found. While Mattie and her K-9 Robo search for the missing newborn, a deadly storm descends on the Colorado Rockies, and then Mattie’s partner Cole goes missing. Soon she finds herself pitted against a mastermind killer with a cold-blooded plan and personal vendetta. Mizushima is a master at building relationships, but her depiction of the treacherous weather conditions was incredible. Having lived in the mountains of Colorado all my life, and she put me there for every frozen, heart-pounding moment.

For the last book on our list, we look at Hardwired, by Walter John Williams because, in my humble opinion, it marks the completion of cyberpunk’s subgenre formation. 

Published in 1986, Hardwired follows a protagonist named Cowboy as he connects his brain to various machines through a hardwire and fights the evil orbital corporations that own the world.  Awesome. It stands out to me in the history of golden-age cyberpunk novels in that it calls upon elements from previous cyberpunk works more-so than its predecessors, solidifying the subgenre’s obligations. 

To say it another way, Hardwired alludes to earlier cyberpunk works to effectively place the story within the reader’s literary experience. And that presupposed cyberpunk experience demarcates the subgenre, a clarion signal that the subgenre was here to stay.”