100 Books Like Green for Danger

I love this book because it is a war novel without a single battlefield or battle, except the one for Siegfried Sassoon’s sanity. I became fascinated by WWI as a teenager. I can’t say why this war caught my imagination, but it did, and that fascination has continued for my whole life.

I gobbled up books, movies, and history about the war, and I especially loved the poetry of Siegfried Sassoon, a noted poet and war hero who publicly refused to continue fighting in 1917. When I re-read his poetry fifty years later, I found a kinship with that refusal and the boys around me who were conscientious objectors to the Vietnam War.

I was a dreamy, romantic teenager, which is why Sassoon’s words pierced my heart: “Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin they think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.” Oh! How I cried over his poems… show more.

I read this probably when I was in my early twenties. Randle McMurphy was, and still is, to some degree, an inspiring character: a rebellious soul, a flawed genius, a bit of a wrong’un at times, but also a hilariously cocky piss-taker.

There’s something deeply human in the portrayal of this character and his conflict with institutionalised authority, as represented by the frankly terrifying Nurse Ratched. It may be set in a psychiatric hospital, but I find the themes relatable to the wider world, the constant pressure to conform or be crushed. I still feel incensed by it.

I’ve always been fascinated by the “dreaming spires” of Oxford University and enjoy Gaudy Night because it immerses me in the world of a (fictional) women’s college set in 1930s Oxford.

As a former professor, I’m intrigued by the internecine political and personal battles in the Senior Common Room (SCR), or college faculty lounge, as well as the friction between those professors devoted entirely to an academic career versus those trying to maintain the challenging balance of work and family, the same issues women struggle with today, nearly one hundred years later.

Sayers weaves together these tensions with a mysterious “poltergeist” who torments the college with poison-pen letters, pranks, vandalism, and violence into a compelling mystery under the dreaming spires.

Michael Ondaatje’s novel is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. It is not a study or analysis of Herodotus’ history, and yet Herodotus’ spirit infuses virtually every page. Taking place during World War II, it explores the intertwined lives of four characters, including the unnamed English patient, who has survived the shooting-down of his plane, although he is severely burned.

He has nothing with him but his annotated copy of Herodotus’ Histories. I loved Anthony Minghella’s 1996 film adaptation of the novel, and it is no criticism of the film to say that it treats only one of the many strands one finds in the book. Meditating on space, time, identity, and truth, The English Patient is a book that I think Herodotus would have loved.

It is World War Two in England. In Ngaio Marsh’s Death and the Dancing Footman a small group of people has been invited to a country house. One of them is killed. The remoteness of the house contributes to the limited group of people as possible killers, making it a classic closed-group story. It’s a good mystery. It also offers a thought-provoking contrast to the real-world event raging at the time, for in the book an English woman is saved by the German doctor. Marsh is not pro-Axis. She’s merely showing our universal dependency on each other to get through a terrifying situation. I loved this idea and thought it quite brilliant of Marsh. And something I think is rather unique in mystery novels.

House of Storm features a group of sequestered people who live on a Caribbean island. A murder occurs, pointing to one of the residents as the killer. To increase the story’s feeling of danger and urgency, a storm is headed for them. The house must be secured, shutters put up. Will clues be destroyed in the rain? Is the killer lurking outside or has he sneaked inside, as the unlocked door suggests? I liked the tension created by the heroine’s approaching marriage to a man she doesn’t love, the murder investigation centering around the man she does love, and the storm. I also liked the contrast with Society’s current label of “Paradise”—a leisurely life on a sunny, tropical island.

This book concerns vacationers at a small hotel in the Scottish Hebrides. A murder is committed. Due to the island and the hotel’s remoteness, the location creates a closed community. Everyone has reasons to be annoyed with others, adding tension and motives for murder. I particularly like the enveloping mood of the wild mountains and fog. Radio broadcasts of real-life events (Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation preparations and Sir Edmund Hillary’s climb of Mount Everest) add a strange link to the outside world for this group of isolated hotel guests. I felt it also underscored the contrast between their forced solitude and stay at the hotel as opposed to Elizabeth and Hillary’s freedom to do what they wished.

Actually, I tell a lie. I had read crime before my honeymoon, but only Agatha Christie, whose whodunnits always feature murders that are tastefully described and over in a couple of lines.

With Christie, it’s all about the puzzle, and boy, is she good at that. Her characters are often a bit two-dimensional, but you forgive that for the sake of her plots, which always race along and convince, however unlikely in real life.

This is one of her most famous ones, and rightly so. No spoilers here, but if you read this as I did as a teenager (recommended by my father) you are in for a grand surprise. Hopefully.

This book is not strictly a whodunnit, as Highsmith follows the murderer closely, and we see not only the murder but experience all its ghastly ramifications. 

This was her first novel, and it set the template for the rest of her oeuvre, in which a relatively ordinary person is dragged into a horrific situation by a chance meeting with a personable weirdo. It could have been you on that train; that’s the shocking thing. And soon our hero is caught in a trap from which it seems there is to be no escape.

This is a gripping read and will set you up, if you’re compulsive like me, to read all her other books, which, though often quite dark, always have the most compelling plots.

Once I got into reading crime properly, I soon found my favourite period: the so-called "Golden Age" of the 1920s and 30s, where the writing was all about a clever plot and less about nasty descriptions of murder and death.

This book was written bang in the middle of this period. Though I personally am not the hugest fan of Sayers' rather smug and entitled detective, Lord Peter Wimsey, I love this book for its supremely clever plot, with clues concealed in the most unlikely places.

It’s also a fun setting among a bunch of artists in Galloway, Scotland. One painter, a quarrelsome drunkard, is murdered. Six others are suspected. You will be puzzling over paint colours and train timetables to work out the killer.