Books like From the Terrace

This roman à clef about billionaire Howard Hughes has everything you covet in a great beach read: money, power, sex, betrayal.

The rugged tycoon Jonas Cord and the screen siren Rita Marlowe tussle, tangle, couple, uncouple, and everything in between over decades and continents, and Robbins’s talent for saucy dialogue and spicier plotlines furiously bubbles to the surface in perhaps the last great book he wrote before his own life—as dramatic as anything he penned—and his work both began to crumble.

It’s hardly short (the original hardback clocks in at a hefty 650-plus pages), but I could not get enough of its blazing, take-no-prisoners leads as they barreled through the worlds of show business, aviation, and business to conquer the world.   

The first great American trashy novel, Peyton Place today seems rather tame, but in its day, it was scandalous. Plucking it from my mother’s bookcase when I was 14, I was engrossed by its roaring passion and sensational secrets.

Set in a small New England town, the book set the stage for the modern soap opera, and I wolfed it down like a big box of candy. It reminds me of those great, heady melodramas of the 1950s (and was itself made into a fabulously sudsy film in 1957), an intoxicating mix of all things forbidden.

I adored the fact that it was literary, which it doesn’t get enough credit for. I think its opening line—“Indian summer is like a woman…”—is one of the best in mid-20th Century literature. 

One of the great lions of mid-20th-century literature, Irwin Shaw is probably best known for Rich Man, Poor Man, which became television’s first big miniseries. But this book, chronicling the dark glamour of the Cannes Film Festival in 1970, centers on the antihero Jesse Craig, a burned-out film producer trying to regain relevance in an arena that worships the new.

Reading it today, you can’t help but wish that kind of effortless European style and chic still existed. It also contains one of my favorite exchanges in a novel, when a young woman asks Craig, “If you had to do it all over again, would you?” and he responds wearily, “No one gets to do it all over again.” Oh, snap!

Ok, so this is not technically midcentury (it was published in 1977), but I had to include one of those amazing 1970s yarns. I chose this one because I remember reading this as an adolescent and feeling it was sort of like a more adult, sophisticated Nancy Drew book, replete with cliffhangers at the end of each chapter.

This global potboiler, about a beautiful pharmaceutical heiress marked for murder, has enough twists and turns to keep anyone reading way past bedtime. I think it also planted the seed for me to write my own novels of courageous, Grace Kelly-style heroines caught up in the throes of romantic mystery and adventure. 

I was deeply moved by this poetic in-verse novel that compassionately addresses harsh realities like coping with mounting stress and being a Black teen in America.

I felt a strong connection to the characters, who were well-developed and authentic, particularly the protagonist grappling with agoraphobia. The conversations about mental health were a nuanced and vulnerable exploration of expectations imposed on Black people dealing with mental health challenges.

I’ve long been fascinated by the mysteries of the Anasazi, or the Pueblo Dwellers of southwestern Utah. How and why did a thriving culture of literally thousands of people who had built stone buildings into cliff faces suddenly and inexplicably disappear? Having read numerous books by archaeologists on the subject, I was really no closer to an answer. But when Preston and Child wrote a novel, a combination of adventure, tech thriller, and mythology, I was completely on board.

Archaeologist Nora Kelly’s father disappeared without a trace 16 years earlier in the remote desert, searching for the legendary Quivira, a city of gold and wonder, the lost city of the Anasazi Indians. Pulling together a team, using some NASA satellite research to find a starting place, Nora leads a team into the desolate canyonlands in search of the city—only to find extraordinary mythology, life-threatening natural events, and a deadly, dangerous… show more.

There are many remedies for racism, including education, transmission, and prevention. So as not to limit myself to the human and social sciences, I suggest this children's novel by Ayaan Mohamud. It's an embodied account, a fictionalized testimony that we discover by following Hanan, the main character, who attends a prestigious school where she is subjected to a very routine form of Islamophobic ostracism.

She follows her mother's advice to stay the course and not overreact for a while. But after a tragedy, this position is no longer tenable and she makes her voice heard, in other words, she takes her place as a visible Muslim in American society in a different way.

This novel will delight young and old alike and is a good complement to the more scientific works cited in this list of recommendations. It was originally written for my children, so they wouldn't shut up.

I was absolutely hooked by the theme of chaotic teenage girldom and hilariously relatable characters, but the thoughtful discussions centering on disability and identity were simply fabulous!

I greatly enjoyed the portrayal of universal feelings of youth—confusion, longing for adventure, and a quest for meaning. The protagonist, who is autistic and Palestinian, highlights representation the world desperately needs more of.

Set in a beguinage in 1310 Paris, which is churning with palace intrigue and the pyres of the Inquisition. I felt drawn into the lives of these beguines as they strive to hold their place in society with strong political forces set against their independent lifestyle.

I felt the smells, sights, and sounds of medieval Paris. An innocent Maheut arrives, unintentionally stirring up life among the beguines as they and the girl try to outwit the Inquisitors. Maheut is hunted, but the beguines are not sure by whom, and she won’t talk. A great resolution.

I read this trilogy after I finished The Lord of the Rings.

I was surprised, and I really enjoyed the action and fight scenes it brought to the genre. I had recently met with D&D at that time, and I could see the dice rolling while reading, which was satisfying. But the real surprise was Raistlin's morally grey character turning full dark mode.

I had seen the cliché of the villain turning good many times. But this was something else. It changed all my expectations from a book, movie, or comic. To this day, as an author, I’m still trying to shock myself with the same approach. Hopefully one day I can.