94 Books Like Lemons Never Lie

This is the spy thriller that started it all! I was a huge fan of the Matt Damon trilogy and had always been an avid reader, so naturally, I gravitated toward the original novel, which was far better than the film.

Popular action thrillers tend to suffer from one of two diseases: “soldier syndrome,”—meaning the author knows what he or she is writing about but isn’t a master of the language—or from “poser-itis,” which is when the writer is good with a pen but would be too scared to use it to gauge out an eye if he or she had to.

So it’s a rare wordsmith who can understand the deepest, most primal parts of the human psyche and then put it into a literary form that delights the eyes and ears. Ludlum is one such writer.

I love this book because, like all of the Parker novels, it starts in the middle of the action, with Parker and his associates spilling out of a car, on the run. Parker hides in an off-season theme park and what follows is a story that is better than Die Hard (and pre-dates it by a decade).

I love the Parker novels for this sort of action and the way that Parker adheres to his particular code. It is not one most heroes abide by but you have to admire this tough thief who lives by the words he speaks – there’s something honorable in that.

I saw the 1987 film adaptation of this novel starring Scott Glenn before I read the book, which is set decades earlier.

I loved the progression of this hard-bitten, psychologically damaged mercenary coming to love this little girl that he is charged with protecting. It’s such a pure emotion for him and the fact that she returns it so completely, as only a child can, is heart-wrenching.

Both the 1987 and the 2004 film adaptations do a good job capturing the magic of this drama, but as is usually the case, the novel does it best. If someone loves The Mandalorian, it is worth trying Man on Fire, which the former has many parallels with.

I loved The Rockford Files TV show, and Sam Strait reminds me a little of Jim Rockford. I love how there’s a lightness to this book (and its sequels) but it still contains an edgy and compelling mystery.

The dialogue is fun, as are the “rules” Sam Strait lives by… the first of which is to never live anywhere you can’t wear flip-flops, thus the moniker of The Flip-Flop Detective series.

Of all five books I’ve chosen, this is the lightest fare and an excellent palate cleanser between Stark or Quinnell without entirely leaving the genre. Conway writes some darker books as well – PI and police procedurals – but Sam Strait is the most fun.

Having grown up in South Africa during apartheid and witnessed how the appalling regime destroyed so many lives, I was profoundly affected by this read. It takes place in the sprawling black township of Soweto at the height of apartheid, where survival was a daily battle for the oppressed and marginalised inhabitants. To this end, Tsoti, an apparently heartless young township thug, lives a life of brutal crime. That is until he unwittingly kidnaps a baby during a bungled carjacking. Forced to care for the infant, Tsotsi gradually rediscovers his own humanity. The reader can’t help but be moved from a place of horror to one of deep understanding and empathy for the main character – a remarkable feat for any author. A compelling story of hope.

This 2009 book combines thorough, professional historical research with a lively writing style to portray how a group of thugs evolved into America’s first Mafia “family.”

My book focuses on the Italian American detectives who battled this gang for more than 20 years; Mike Dash’s groundbreaking account looks at the flip side of this struggle, the feared Lupo-Morello gang. Dash is especially adept at working with archived documents, such as the daily reports of Secret Service agents from the National Archives. He uses the details well.

Thoroughly enjoyed reading about the various fates of a shipload full of convict women who at the time were barely more than chattels of men. Susannah Watson was one of many women who stole in England to feed her starving children and found herself transported for 14 years (which in reality became a lifetime). These survivor women were inspiring and resilient in a pioneering time.

Few scholars have done more to demystify the nature of crime in Mexico than Pablo Piccato. His book City of Suspects is a nuanced history that reveals that the very meaning of crime was contested in early twentieth-century Mexico City. While Mexican elites tried to define criminals as a social class, the urban poor, who experienced crime as a part of their everyday lives, saw crime as an individual phenomenon. This book, like the others on this list, is also a story about the ways people used and thought about public space. At a time when Mexico’s government sought to transform the capital into a modern metropolis along the lines of Paris or New York, the poor resisted efforts to exclude them from that future.

I loved this book because it put me right there in the life, with all the violence, plots, girlfriends, and craziness. Author Nicholas Pileggi is a master of the craft. He drew me in immediately by capturing the voice of Henry Hill; mob associate turned informant.

I learned things I didn’t know–and some things I didn’t want to know–about the life. When I saw Goodfellas, the Martin Scorsese movie based on the book, it all rang true again.

This book grabbed me by the throat and refused to let go.

Jordan Harper does more with suggestion and a few well-crafted sentences than some writers accomplish in an entire novel. When he needs to be brutal, he’s a monster. When he needs to be tender, your eyes sting.

Polly is both a badass and a little girl—I don’t know how Harper pulled that off. And I have never cared so much about a stuffed animal as I have Polly’s teddy bear.