100 Books Like Dead Man Walking

I related to Atticus Finch.

He was the dad everyone wished they had. He was also a lot like my old high school football coach. There is authentic love and warmth when he and Scout are together. And there is honesty and spine when Atticus is in the courtroom, defending those who have been wrongly accused.

This beloved book has inspired generations of readers around the world. It is a morality tale about a rough and imperfect country, written in a way that has inspired idealists to stay the course in our fight for justice. We may be flawed, but we can still be strong.

I have probably read this book five times as a kid and three more times as an adult, and every time, I take away another life lesson.

As a kid, you are caught up in the story of Charlie going through the whimsical world of Willy Wonka, with its magical wonders of candy making.

But as an adult you see the other story—the story of Charlie, the underdog who grows up in a home impoverished financially but not emotionally or morally. He succeeds in winning it all in the end due to his respectfully showing self-restraint and honoring his high standards of what is right and wrong.  

I loved the way Scott Turow navigates the law and the courtroom in his fiction, and this novel especially.

Not only is this story a breathtaking page turner, it pins down the fine points of the law and behavioral nuances of the people who practice it.

This was one of the books that kept you up all night and then you found yourself wanting to read again—to find the trail of breadcrumbs you missed the first time through. Justice is served, just not as expected.

I loved this beautifully written book for its depiction of how the death penalty worked in the Jim Crow South. I loved the compassion shown by the characters, both black and white, and the attempt by Gaines to reveal the complexity of crime and punishment in an era that may not be so different from our own. 

As a law clerk in the 1980s in the Deep South, I witnessed the legacy of the system that Gaines describes.

McKenzie looks at the extraordinary phenomenon of the 'last dying speech' that condemned prisoners in Britain got to give from the scaffold. In particular, she explores events at Tyburn, London's most notorious execution site, in the 18th century, exploring how this period saw an explosion of printed literature that featured the criminal as an Everyman from whom everyone could learn a harsh lesson in morality. It's a fantastic exploration of the reality of the gallows versus what one could read in print: from the 'game' highwayman who refused to bow to society's expectations to the fearful, trembling prisoner who begged for mercy. Totally fascinating. 

In this book, barrister-turned-novelist Sarah Caudwell strikes a perfect balance of intricate, cozy mystery and zany British humor.

While I adored all of the books by this author, I particularly loved the Gothic threads that run through this last one, as well as the satisfying queer aspects of the storyline. If I could live inside any mystery series, it would be this one: the characters are so much fun, especially the narrator, Oxford professor Hilary Tamar.

Interestingly, Professor Tamar’s gender is never disclosed—a pretty radical concept for a series that started in the 1980s—which manages to avoid ever feeling gimmicky and which helped me to reflect as I read on my own expectations and assumptions about gender in mystery stories.

If there is an heir to Harper Lee in the realm of legal thrillers, my vote goes to John Grisham. There’s a basic sense of decency in Grisham’s books that appeals to me. In A Time for Mercy, Grisham’s enduring character Jake Brigance returns to Clanton, Mississippi in a story constructed around a polarizing small-town murder. However, precious little can be categorized along strictly black and white lines in this crime. Grisham understands that we live in a world where the grays of reality are predominant and inherently more interesting. He makes sure we understand the characters, even those we may dislike or disagree with. Grisham doesn’t take the easy way out in A Time for Mercy. The story unfolds to a surprisingly untidy yet satisfying conclusion that leaves the reader with plenty of food for thought.

By the early twentieth century, violent crime was the number one political issue in America. In response, Congress passed the Swift and Sure Anti-Crime Bill, which gave a previously convicted violent criminal one fair trail, one quick appeal, then immediate execution. But to prevent abuse of the law, it was necessary to create a machine that could detect lies with one-hundred percent accuracy. It was clear that such a Truth Machine would change the world. But the race to perfect the Truth Machine forces one man to commit a shocking act of treachery. Now he must conceal the truth from his own creation---or face execution.

The conflict here is truth versus justice, as is often the case in human affairs. I was extremely interested in seeing how the author would balance these two seemingly irreconcilable factors. The book does a startingly job in resolving this conflict, in the process creating… show more.

I loved the balance between the anguish of the family of Gary Gilmore’s victims and his desire to be executed as soon as possible. I was moved by the desperate attempts of his self-appointed lawyers to delay his death, and I’m not sure I’ve ever answered the question for myself whether a killer’s wish to die should be respected.

Wouldn’t a life sentence be an even greater punishment?

Many think that the medieval period was the era of cruel and sadistic punishment, but it was, in fact, the Renaissance that saw the rise of the great spectacle of the 'theatre of horror': scaffolds erected to display the brutal dismemberment and suffering of executed prisoners in front of thousands of spectators. Although it focuses on France, Friedland's study explores why, all across Europe, this period saw an appetite for something so graphic. It explores the history of capital punishment from the Romans onwards, so it's essential reading for the theory behind executions, but the real strength lies in its exploration of the gulf between what theorists believed and what the general public actually did at executions, and why they attended in their thousands.