Books like How to Slay at Work — picked by fans

This book made me realise that women’s role in fiction didn’t have to be the ‘little woman’ or the ‘love interest’.

It was published back in 2001 when female protagonists were a rarity, but James Patterson gives us not one, but four strong women who get together to solve crimes that the police alone cannot. I love the fact that these women are willing to break the rules in order to succeed in a man’s world. But at the same time, they are a club in the traditional sense: they eat, drink, and have fun together, while watching each other’s backs.

It was a wonderfully empowering experience to discover this book (and even more so when I realised there were a whole series of books about the same group of women).

I don’t read historical fiction as a rule, so this one is a departure for me; and it’s not a traditional crime-fighting story either, but it hooked me from the first page.

I loved the concept of a matriarchal Roman Empire transported to Middle Europe and pulled forward into the twenty-first century. Then I discovered a main protagonist who has been brought up in America and has to come to grips with the fact that she is a member of the ruling family and a soldier at that. The crimes she and her sister officers fight against are political and conspiratorial, but they are crimes nonetheless.

A fascinating approach to history and a great way to reverse the stereotypes and make strong women the norm.

I saw Cathy Ace speak at a crime writers’ conference, and she was such a bundle of energy and a joy to listen to that I was already hooked before I read this book.

And I loved her collection of WISE women working together as a detective agency: one from Wales, one from Ireland, one from Scotland, and one from England. (I would never have spotted the opportunity those four initials provide.)

Four ordinary women, from different backgrounds, and with different experiences (and accents) learning to live together, work together, and solve crimes together. This is at the cosy end of the crime spectrum, but that’s why I like it so much. The crimes are real, but there’s not too much grit, and there’s bags of humour.

This book has so much I love about it: it’s set in Dublin, the home of my father and therefore part of my heritage.

It features a group of feisty women, the youngest of whom is in her fifties (way younger than me), while the rest are old enough to know better. It’s packed full of humour—who wouldn’t laugh at the idea of the older generation behaving worse than the teenagers. And there’s a huge dollop of old Irish magic to add to the mix.

Despite the fact that this wonderful group of women seem to attract dead bodies like magnets, this is definitely in the cosy sub-genre. And I loved every word of this book and the rest of the series.

Sergeant Washington Poe and analyst Tilly Bradshaw are top of many folks’ favourites list.

Like Rachel Lynch’s Kelly Porter series, the setting is largely Cumbria. However, Poe and Tilly work for the National Crime Agency, specialising in highly sensitive and unusual cases (eg serial killers), giving a different spin on the police procedural.

Each book has a compelling and devious central mystery, but the real joy is the pairing of Poe and Tilly. Poe is a clever but taciturn grump, who favours the simple life, living largely off-grid in a stone shepherd’s hut. Tilly is a naïve computer genius, with few social filters.

Put them together and initially sparks fly, before they become close friends. With laugh-out-loud dialogue, these are an absolute pleasure to read.

Lucy Foley always writes characters who are hiding their true nature, but with this one she really doubled down on the Fake It Until You Make It attitude of fabulous phonies everywhere. And this time, it had a Goop twist. The rustic luxury of the resort where the events occur is all glamour.

Many of the characters I wrote about in Pretty Girls Get Away With Murder try to hide who they really are. Whether it’s a desire to be seen as feminine, likable, sexy, or successful, they are calculating how they are seen. In the end, their true nature always shows itself. Sometimes it’s liberating for them, and sometimes it’s ugly.

I was completely absorbed by Beautiful Ugly, where nothing is quite what it seems.

I love stories that play with perception, and this one does it so elegantly, weaving grief and obsession into something hauntingly beautiful. The isolated Scottish island provides a fabulously claustrophobic and creepy backdrop that I couldn’t get enough of.

It’s dark, atmospheric, and exquisitely written—I raced through it.

I’ve read a few books by this author and have never been disappointed. I particularly like Our Holiday because it’s not only a cracking yarn, but it has something to say about the impact of holiday homes on local communities.  

During their summer visit to their holiday home in Pine Ridge, a picture-postcard coastal village, Sloane Rangers Charlotte and Perry find they need more than sunscreen for protection. Their not-as-wealthy friends, Amy and Linus, have also recently bought a place there, but this is more of a source of irritation to Charlotte and Perry than a comfort. Simmering tension with the locals builds to a violent and unexpected crescendo, and it takes more than a bucket and spade to dig up the dead body.

Elmore Leonard has a pitch-perfect literary style combined with an uncanny understanding of the underworld of crime. 

Obviously, the author is influenced by Hemingway’s stylistic approaches, but with none of the self-consciousness and pretense that sometimes mars that author’s work.

I also admire his picture of a modern American city and the low-life denizens that most people ignore or shun, but whom he makes quite believable.  

Pelecanos is the poet of how a city carries its grief.

A long-cold case pulls three D.C. cops back to the night their lives forked, and what stays with me isn’t the killer. It’s his eye for which deaths get worked and which get filed, who gets remembered and who becomes a name in a closed folder. He writes Washington as a real place with its own gravity, its institutions pressing on ordinary lives.

He taught me you can be quiet and humane and still devastating, and that a city should never be a backdrop. It should be the thing applying the pressure.