100 Books Like Less Than Zero

I didn’t read Liar’s Poker until fairly recently.

I started working for Dow Jones Newswires during the dot-com boom and saw how greed could drive markets. I worked through the housing boom in the Aughts and the financial crisis, and then started covering bitcoin around 2013. So by the time I got to Lewis’s book, I had a good understanding of how people can become obsessed with money.

But Lewis is just such a good writer, and has such insights into how markets work, that a book about bond buyers in the 1980s still feels like it’s about people trading so many other things today. 

There’s a driving intensity to this book's narrative and atmosphere, which remains as compelling and fresh today as when I first read it years ago. Part of its power derives from Eugenides’ use of first-person plural narration through the collective voice of a group of neighborhood boys still haunted, years later in adulthood, by the untimely deaths of five adolescent sisters in 1970s suburban Michigan.

Part-detectives, part-elegists, they piece together their memories of not only the girls but of a particular place and time now vanished. I’m always struck by the book’s deft melding of pathos and humor and by the way that what is essentially a personal suburban tragedy gradually begins to speak to a wider malaise that calls into question the American dream itself.

One of my favorite novels of any length, Nathanael West’s short 1939 classic is at the very least the most disturbing portrait of Golden Age Hollywood and its hangers-on ever written—hideous, poignant, horribly funny.

West himself wrote scripts for B-movies in the thirties. His death at thirty-three in a car crash was perhaps, in its awful and infuriating ridiculousness, fitting. And it was the day after F. Scott Fitzgerald died.

I believe this book is one of the classic staples of surreal fiction. Its disjointed, spiraling narrative and sprawling non-linear plot lines challenge the definition of what a ‘book’ is. It uses everything from footnotes to text alignment to color schemes to make the act of reading itself increasingly difficult, which matches the house’s influence on the narrators’ memories and interests.

Reading it for me was like learning Latin or watching Casablanca–it gave context to decades of experimental media inspired by it, from TV shows to DOOM game mods. Love it or hate it, it’s a solid tool for any inhuman’s toolkit. 

I love love love an unreliable narrator! Especially when that narrator is a beautiful, elegant woman who turns out to have the ugliest soul imaginable. I think as a whole, our society tends to be extra afraid when they see conniving evil existing in a female’s mind, especially when she’s physically beautiful and well spoken.

At certain points in this book, I found myself weirdly rooting for Amy and chomping at the bit to see how far her “crazy” would take her. The twists and turns kept me racing through this book and left me wondering at the end, “What happens to them now?!”

I listened to this whole series while climbing mind-numbing stacks of backlogged legal work as an Assistant Attorney General. My vision was clogged with the vivid scenes of Bourne's books, legal folders, paper clips, and coffee stains. It actually inspired the fourth book of my zombie series.   

Told in the diary format common to many books of the zombie epic subgenre, this journal depicts one man's struggle for survival. The unnamed narrator is a naval officer who was just returning home to Texas from visiting his parents in Arkansas when the zombie apocalypse hits. John, another survivor, and Annabell, John's miniature greyhound, work together with the narrator to survive, hoping to find some last working vestige of the US government. 

There are some cool elements to this zombie epic that I haven't found anywhere else. They shelter in a functional missile silo at one point. The clunk, clunk… show more.

The governor series satisfied my Walking Dead craving without being redundant. It gave me a deeper look into the bad guy we all just love to hate so much. There were twists and turns in this story and once I hit the end my jaw was literally dropped from the shock of all that was revealed about this character’s back story. 

Wastelands is an anthology of short stories, all obviously focused on the apocalypse, but not all including zombies. One memorable story was titled When Sysadmins Ruled the Earth by Cory Doctorow, which features the communications between tech geeks who are safely ensconced within blast-resistant data hosting centers when the apocalypse begins. Working in server hosting centers are equipped with their own power sources, air filtering systems, and an abundance of junk food vending machines, the author creates a scenario where truly the geeks shall inherit the earth.

While I was born in the United States, New Jersey to be exact, I have always had an affinity for England.  At the time of my birth, my mother was still a ‘subject of the Crown’ and a ‘British Citizen’. She did not become an American Citizen until I was nearly ten years old. So theoretically, I was born a dual citizen of both America and England.  Perhaps that is why I am such a big fan of Netflix's The Crown. As for the book Zombie Apocalypse!, it takes place in England and gives you a glimpse of how those across the pond would handle the apocalypse. Hopefully, this is not a spoiler, but one of the most memorable parts of the book features the Queen alongside a zombie Prince Charles and zombie Princess Diana, need I say more.

From the first chapter, as I read Charlie’s letter to a friend, I wished I could meet the man this teenager would become. The magic of this book is that it is related entirely through journal-like letters. Charlie writes with so much authenticity, curiosity, and vulnerability that I’m glad he has three friends who hold him with love as he faces his demons and comes of age.

I found the ways he makes sense of the world fascinating, humourous, and admirable, and at other times heartbreaking. I sincerely admire Charlie’s strength as he manages to sustain vulnerability and a constant rope of connection to himself, even though it gets very thin at times.