Books like Ironweed

Leo Tolstoy’s follow-up project to the massive War and Peace explores the meaning of human existence and the interplay of socio-political events and individual free will through the medium of infatuation, marriage, and love.

It’s also a real page-turner. When she finished it, Elisabeth Elliot called it the greatest book she had ever read, writing that Anna Karenina’s character had held a mirror up to her soul and showed her what her own heart was capable of. 

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.

Jane Austin is a classical writer of romance and a perfect combination of well-written English. The love Mr Darcy had for Elizabeth was explained with passion through the English language. 

It addressed issues within that time, and the beauty of a girl, as well as the strength of a man, was portrayed well. Jane Austin has other books, but my favorite was this one. 

I made the mistake of reading Wuthering Heights right after I finished my favorite romance of all time (Jane Eyre).

I suppose I’d hoped the Brontë sisters, as siblings, would somehow create similar main characters with intense chemistry. But Charlotte’s love story was built on mutual respect and affection; Emily, on the other hand, created the selfish and shameless saga of Heathcliff and Catherine.

Honestly? I had to read a few chapters before I could even begin to appreciate the raw intensity of a connection matched only by the novel’s stormy and violent landscape. Yet I don’t believe there’s ever been a romance novel with more compelling chemistry.

Wuthering Heights is indeed a beautifully – if brutally – written tale about twin flames, and how that type of obsessive craving is a thirst that can never be quenched.

This book haunted me for days after I finished reading it. I felt like someone I loved had died. Few works of art have stuck with me the way O’Connnor’s book did. Its main characters—Hazel Motes and Enoch Emery—are the epitome of outsiders. I grew up in a religious family in Kentucky, so I can understand Motes’ struggle with faith. The way that Motes and Emery are so severely separated from the rest of humanity is affecting them.

The book caused me to passionately take their side, rooting for them and their cause, sharing in their anger towards the rest of mankind. This book had such a powerful emotional impact and influence on me, leaving me with a palpable feeling of hopelessness and catharsis over several weeks—unlike I’ve experienced with any other work of art. 

I was immediately drawn into this slim book about small-time boxers in Stockton, California, trying to find some measure of respect. The sentences are terse and beautiful and contain all the desperation and struggle of small lives lived in obscure places.

Billy Tully, an older boxer, tries to restart his flailing boxing career as the novice boxer Ernie Munger is just beginning. Doubt, alcoholism, failure, rejection, hopelessness, and disintegration beset the path of both main characters, and they may share parallel fates.

There should be more books with characters like this because, as Thoreau noted, most men do “lead quiet lives of desperation,” and no book captures and expresses how this feels—in both style and substance—as precisely as Fat City. It is a beautifully written book, and the reality of the characters’ lives broke my heart. 

The characters and stories in this book carved out a permanent place in my inner life. It took me a long time to read the book because I wanted to savor each sentence. I have rarely found a book that combined such an emotional impact, compulsive readability, and such striking, polished sentences.

Every story has the raw, ringing truth of felt experience, and this experience worked its way into my consciousness like a dream or memory. There is a universal quality of aloneness and separateness among all of Pancake’s characters. The Appalachian settings in this book are as symbolic, arresting, and affecting as the characters. Character and setting are inseparable, both bearing an emotional weight and haunting quality that is rarely found in even the best literature. There is no other book like this. 

The title story, A Hunger Artist, affected me in such a stunning and mysterious way. It just floored me and got under my skin. I felt distraught for several days. When I first read this story, I had just begun my MFA in creative writing at the Bluegrass Writers Studio in 2014, and I was interested in examining why certain works had an impact on me as a reader and how I could learn the writing craft from them.

I re-read the story several times to try and figure out the source of its power but could not. The title story—and the rest of the stories in the collection—are written in a direct, matter-of-fact way that doesn’t draw attention to their style. But these stories involved me directly in a deep, mysterious, and emotional experience.  

Thirty-five years after this book was published, I still smile thinking of it and the first time I read it in 1991.

It was/is a laugh-out-loud farce and was an inspiration to me to read gay and straight comic characters written so effortlessly.

Every so often, I check to see if Joe Keenan has another novel in the works, as he has written only three. I’ll be the first in line to buy a copy. 

Scruffy, grumpy Billie is my favourite female character in all of literature, and she stars in this, one of my top five all-time books.

It’s novella-length, a series of overlapping short stories, with characters who are absolutely real, living, breathing people. The story is primarily about a love affair, but there is a fabulous friendship in it between Billie and her childhood friend, Penny.

When Billie goes back home for Penny’s wedding, they briefly ditch the reception by rowing out onto the lake as they did when children, Penny in her long white dress. It’s a scene that never fails to make me want to phone my oldest friend and tell her how much I value her.