100 Books Like Loot

It is difficult to imagine a list of great novels about the Middle Ages that does not include this book.

I read it first when I was in graduate school, and it brought so much of what I was studying to life – the monastic world of its setting with all its contradictions and spectacular architecture; fights over religion and the true nature of spirituality; the non-linear nature of medieval literature. 

I love how it can be read on one level as a page-turny murder mystery and on another as a post-modern novel that explores the nature of signs and meaning. Its mystificatory preface reveals the distance between the medieval world and what we can say about it.

The abbey of St.-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups and its immediate surroundings is so much a part of this mystery novel that it almost becomes a character in its own right. Louise Penny has woven a complex plot in the tradition of Agatha Christie (isolated location, every inhabitant a suspect), and has infused the narrative with her own trademark attention to character development. Even those readers who are unfamiliar with Chief Inspector Gamache and his side-kick, Inspector Beauvoir will quickly come to care about their relationship and their futures. 

I am a great fan of Louise Penny’s Gamache series, and this book is one of my favourites. I have lost count of the number of times I’ve read it.

When an uncle – presumed killed in the Blitz – turns up after serving nearly forty years in an Irish prison, he tells a story about having been one of the thieves of Picasso paintings stolen from a diamond merchant in Antwerp in 1939. At clever work in this tale are forgers, revolutionaries, and family members out to recover their treasure or their family honor. I have known for a long time that what I love most – more than mere murder mysteries – are what I call novels with murder. For me, the story has to be a beautifully realized bit of writing, and a murder is just one feature of it.

I have always loved Goddard’s style, which is both elegant and readable. And murder, more than a puzzle, becomes a natural part of the lives he depicts. Known for his plot twists, he sets me down in… show more.

I was inspired by his descriptions. He captures the ethos of a place, the unique attributes that elevate mere locations to sensory experiences. I use the five senses as a guideline when writing descriptions. Tony Hillerman can place the reader in the scene, and I’m inspired to accomplish the same thing.

Hermann Goering’s art dealer was a Nazi stormtrooper with a PhD in art history and an athletic build. And Bruno Lohse always made sure the champagne was on ice whenever Hermann Goering arrived at Paris’ Jeu de Paume museum in order to examine the latest in stolen masterpieces.

Although Lohse was arrested after the war for his ties to the Nazi party and spent several years in prison in Germany and France, he was never convicted for his role in stealing art, and went on to make a good living as an art dealer in Munich after the war. Jonathan Petropoulos, a history professor at Claremont McKenna College and expert on the Holocaust, interviewed Lohse several times for this fascinating book.

I first read this book when I was going through a bad period in my life when I felt my work as an academic was going nowhere.

The sprawling, absorbing plot of The Improbability of Love took me to another place. The novel is set in London, a city that I know well, and it has a huge variety of characters from all walks of life. Some of writing is very funny, which cheered me enormously.

The painting in question is by Antoine Watteau, and it was found by our heroine Annie in a junk shop. 

When I was a kid, I used to love W. Somerset Maugham short stories. Often they were about two strangers, usually men, meeting in a remote colonial outpost, and one of the two would then proceed to tell the other a strange, violent, heartbreaking, life-altering story that had happened to him or that he had witnessed. Mouth to Mouth, which I loved, reminded me of those stories.

I listened to it on audiobook, and the narration is pitch-perfect. This novel is about two men who meet at an airport when their plane is delayed. They go into a lounge, where one of them, a rich art dealer named Jeff, proceeds to tell the other his life story.

It’s gripping. I sat in my car after I got home so I could listen to the last twenty minutes.

Ron Hall’s #1 New York Times bestselling book, Same Kind of Different as Me, was the first book I read about homelessness, and I credit it with opening my eyes to this crisis. His uplifting story about his wife’s and his efforts to help the homeless in their neighborhood was also made into a film. Ron’s story focuses on one of the many homeless people he helped, a man named Denver Moore, who went on to live with Ron after Ron’s wife died. Denver also co-authored several of Ron’s books. My book is also co-authored with one of the homeless people I met, a woman named Maggie Wright. Our books are the only ones I know of that include the direct voice of a homeless person, and I feel this adds a necessary depth to a story about homelessness.

Manhattan art dealer Sera James watched her world crumble at the altar two years ago, and her heart is still fragile. Her desire for distraction reignites a passion for a mysterious portrait she first saw as a young girl—a painting of a young violinist with piercing blue eyes. Along with wealthy heir William Hanover, Sera unravels the story behind the painting’s subject, an Austrian violinist Adele Von Bron who smuggles Jews out of Vienna and finds herself in Auschwitz.

Evocative, haunting, soul searching, this debut by Cambron is time-slip historical fiction at its best: heartbreaking truth of the horrors of Auschwitz, romance with a musical refrain, art and faith. Just the kind of story I try to write. A delight.

Adam von Trott was a Prussian aristocrat who studied at Oxford, worked for the German resistance, and was executed by the Nazis in August 1944. I discovered Trott when I was researching wartime Berlin. Christopher Sykes’ biography gives a fascinating portrait of an intense and charming man. His deep loyalty to Germany led him to oppose its government, attempt to reach an understanding with its enemies and participate in an effort to kill its leader.

Adam and his contradictions continue to intrigue me – and I’m not the only one! He pops up regularly in other people’s novels under various aliases: as Hartmann in Robert Harris’ Munich, for instance, and as Axel von Gottberg in Justin Cartwright’s The Song Before It Is Sung.