100 Books Like Call Him Mine

This comprehensive nonfiction book takes on a century-long analysis of the root causes of drug distribution in Mexico, ranging from the mass migration of Chinese people and the importation of poppies to the establishment of opium dens along the US-Mexico border, from the medicinal uses of healers and farmers to the rise of kingpins and drug-lords.

This book also maps the issue of drug consumption in the United States of America and the inherent violence it causes south of its border with the rise of cartels that cause the current sadistic state of violence in Mexico. This book is a historical journey that marks the spiraling, out-of-control story of drugs in Mexico.

I’m keenly drawn to this novel because it navigates the specter between myth and violence, the grandeur of folkloric myth, and the raw side of violence, which are so descriptive of the Mexican past and present. Melchor blurs the lines between a world of quasi-fantastical superstition and hyper-realism, delving at times into the territory of mystery and crime fiction, all of it contained by the paradigm of the Mexican drug war, accurately rendering the reach and expanse of drug consumption and distribution as much as the ravages they bring about.

Centered around the figure of a murdered witch and alleged healer in the depths of the state of Veracruz, this narrative unmasks the mythical traditions of a locality to uncover the violence that lies at the depths of Mexican communities affected by the war on drugs. Melchor masterfully demystifies and rids exoticism from the Mexican imaginary to denounce the marginalization… show more.

This novel explores one of the many subplots and dynamics occurring around popular culture and cartel expansion in Mexico.

Following the life of a composer and performer of narco-corridos—a musical genre that sings praises to drug lords and kingpins—, this novel delves into the peripheries of violence and the adulation of drug cartel personalities in mainstream culture while at the same time offering a glimpse at the dangers posed to artists delving into such themes.

Having a composer and musician as the central figure of the narrative makes this novel one of the most lyrical texts exploring subjects of violence.

Utilizing appropriation and real testimonies of people who have suffered the forced disappearance of their relatives as a result of cartel violence, Sara Uribe weaves together a lyrical palimpsest by combining the voices and tropes of Greek mythology and the all-too-real suffering of the Mexican present.

Antigona Gonzalez, the main subject in this book, echoes the myth of Antigone as well as the struggles of all those who search for their missing kin in Mexico, those who have gone missing at the hands of narco-violence. This book is a telling use of previously existing texts to describe a crisis of the present accurately.

This was only published way after Forster’s death–and I can quite see why: it would have whipped up a storm of unimaginable controversy with its story of homosexual love between two Cambridge students and then (steady yourself!) one of those students in later life and a rough-and-ready groundsman.

Forster wrote this in 1913/14, revised it in the 1930s and again in the 1950s, died in 1970, and Maurice finally appeared in 1971. So the book, which concerns hiding, was deeply hidden for over half a century. Forster is sentimental in terms of love and brutal in terms of fate.

Love bucks polite society’s norms in the face of the danger of arrest, public scandal, and disgrace. But such love is so delicate and dangerous that any affront to it has to be met with the most decisive action to protect everyone involved–even if the price is loneliness and a life-long… show more.

As an aerospace engineer, I have a soft spot for aviation-related tales. The idea of a pilot crashing a commercial flight (with some cryptic final words caught on the flight recorder) terrified and intrigued me. The investigator for this one is the heartbroken fiance of the pilot who has to navigate the mystery while processing his own grief.

This intriguing queer story is the type I love where one mystery solved begets a bunch more, and the author expertly unfolds answers when the time is right. This isn’t an action-packed thriller; it’s a quiet, perfectly paced story about guilt, grief, and finding the courage to seek the truth.

This book is fast-paced: within the first chapter, the titular captive prince, Damon, is enslaved, stripped of his royal identity, and gifted to Laurent, the young prince of a decadent foreign court. Damon, yet another straightforward soldier type (they pair so well with the slippery types), is immediately caught up in the byzantine machinations of Laurent and his uncle and is hilariously out of his depth without ever seeming to realize it.

I appreciate Damon, but I adore Laurent. He is so snarky and cool-headed, running absolute rings around Damon and playing the game like a champion despite the very poor hand his uncle has dealt him. It’s a slow-burn romance, and I loved watching their relationship evolve slowly.

I enjoyed this distinctly unusual take on a Cold War novel. Martha is not a spy; she is a young new wife living in Moscow in 1973 with her rookie diplomat husband. She’s not even a wife in every sense, as her husband Kit is a gay childhood friend using her as cover.

The closed embassy community is well-evoked, especially the low-level threat to Westerners. People–and even places–disappear, and suicides happen. Wives must obey the rules for their own safety, and there are consequences when they do not, such as when Martha makes a dangerous friend.

Far from the usual Moscow thriller, this is more subtle and transporting, not least because Martha does actually like Moscow and Russia, and wants to explore and understand what she sees.

This book more than lived up to its reputation as a trailblazing work exploring sexual and racial identity in a segregated Southern town full of bigotry in the 1960s. It opened my eyes to a crucial part of LGBTQ history that is rarely discussed. This book digs deeply and honestly–with fantastic illustrations–and I can’t wait to revisit it.

I love stories about outcasts, persistent f*ck-ups, people who’ve been told a story about themselves their whole lives that somewhere along the line they started to believe. I love when they find someone who’s been told a similar story, and they help each other to not believe in those stories anymore.