Books like Don't Look Back In Anger — picked by fans

I can’t see myself writing a detailed chronicle of a specific location and period without pulling my hair out. But Will Hermes did precisely that (well, not the hair-pulling-out part) by relating five crucial years in New York. It initially reads weird, maybe even slow, because he writes short intersecting snippets of music history.

Once I got deeper into it, I fell in love. I already knew much of the history he touched on regarding stuff like punk, Bruce Springsteen, and salsa, but those fun factoids aren’t the point of Hermes’s book. Instead, it’s about how multiple scenes coexisted and informed one another. I’m well versed in the NY music scene now and—bonus!—New York itself.

I think music is magic. Sometimes, it feels like reading about music deflates its inherent mystery. When I finished Dilla Time, it was like I had taken mushrooms and could see beat patterns with my mind’s eye. Although a good portion of Dilla Time is biographical, the parts I love are the chapters explaining how rhythm works, and Charnas dives deep into this topic.

The biography portion strengthens those sections because Dilla fundamentally changed the rhythm of pop music. I read this book, and my understanding of rhythm completely changed—and I am a drummer! Plus, the mixed-media, multi-formatted content is such a delight. He even includes graphs. Who doesn’t enjoy a nice graph? 

I could tell you entire life stories based on what albums I was listening to when they happened, and that’s just what Marc Wasserman is doing with this book—and he’s chosen a damn fine album, the English Beat’s Special Beat Service. Sure, he discusses the band’s cultural impact, but it’s also about how Marc fell in love with the album and the band during a difficult time.

I love how the book weaves Marc’s story with well-researched details. Maybe one day I’ll write a book about Quasi’s Featuring Birds album, covering the period in my 20s when I was broke, destitute, and searching for meaning while delivering pizzas in Las Vegas.

I could easily recommend five Hanif Abdurraqib books. Still, I chose this one because his writing in this book is profoundly personal and emotional, revealing how his connection to their music helped him understand his identity and place in the world.

I found myself relating to his thought processes and relationship with music, especially because music helps me express all my hard-to-put-to-word feelings. Abdurraqib relays his love for Tribe with such poetic grace. I was already a fan of Tribe before reading the book. Now, I get choked up when I listen to some of their songs. Music is transformative. 

This novel represents a sharp turn for me. Until I snapped up Zero History in an airport bookstore many years ago, the science fiction I’d read seemed like dry, intellectual exercises. The characters didn’t have depth. They never made me laugh (or cry). But Zero History unleashed a passion in me for speculative fiction, and eventually, it turned my own writing in that direction as well. To this day, it’s one of my all-time favorite novels. While it’s the third book in a William Gibson trilogy, it is entirely complete on its own. There’s a pop culture, cool vibe about it as the story taps into the lives of three people with unusual gifts – which a global marketing magnate dearly wants to use in various ways.

This is a collection of essays by Fisher that originally comprised his K-Punk blog and that I return to again and again.

Fisher has a unique voice, a kind of critical conscience for the times that navigates the complexities of what he called "capitalist realism" through the lens of popular culture. These essays are the reason I got into bands on the Ghost Box label, like Pye Corner Audio, The Advisory Circle, and Belbury Poly. They speak to a loss of promised futures in a political context that has increasingly emptied out hope.

I find Fisher’s diagnosis of the culture of late capitalism to be the most compelling out there. His critique of “retro” bands like The Arctic Monkeys is scathing, while his writings on “hauntological” culture are ground-breaking. I’m a big fan of Burial, and Fisher’s reflections on the post-rave come-down are spot on.

Be warned: the collection can… show more.

Family can be an emotionally charged word, especially for people who come from toxic families or don’t even know their biological families. This is why I appreciate this non-fiction book by Bella DePaulo, which acknowledges that there is more than one way to be a family. She goes well beyond the typical nuclear family of mother, father, and biological children to explore how people are living together in the 21st century. One type of configuration she explores, the multi-generational household, is near and dear to my heart because I grew up like that, and it changed my life for the better.

My introduction to world mythology was Joseph Campbell, who described a nearly universal narrative – or monomyth – in which a young man (such as Christ, Percival, or the Buddha) ventures from his land, defeats opponents or temptations and returns with a critical gift for his people.

America, however, inverted this myth in profoundly important ways. In our story, repeated over three centuries in thousands of sermons, novels, movies, television, and video games, an innocent and racially pure community is threatened by evil (usually non-white).

When democratic institutions fail to suppress the threat, a selfless superhero arrives – from elsewhere – to defeat the villains and restore the community to harmony. Then, however, disdaining the feminine values of community and relationship, this hero disappears (often into the West).

I realized that he is the model for both our ideas of distant fathering as well as our unshakable belief in American… show more.

This is a book about the real-life effects of the work of the character in the first book I recommended.

I loved it because, as a journalist confronting for the first time in my career, large-scale distrust in agreed upon reality (“fake news”), the stories of societal crackup in post-Soviet, disinformation-addled Russia form the ultimate cautionary tale.

Ned Ward was a tavern keeper in the early 1700s, and this little-known book offers an extraordinary time capsule. It allows the reader to travel back some three hundred years to the grimy streets of London that feel at once alien and familiar.

The lions and other exotic animals in the Tower of London, the freshly-domed St Paul’s Cathedral, the filth and noise, the danger and the stink. All of it is here, not to mention the fabulous dialect of the time, offering the most wonderful dictionary of terms for sex workers, thieves, lawyers, and every trade imaginable. All history fans should read this book.