100 Books Like Murder on the Night Train to Paris

As anyone who has ever grown up in Glasgow will tell you, don't mess with short people. A short, angry Scottish woman can have your proverbial eye out when riled. Especially if they’re meant to be enjoying themselves at the seaside. And that's exactly the case with Lady Hardcastle’s loyal sidekick, Flo. Granted, Flo is Welsh, and the duo lives in Edwardian England rather than 20th-century Scotland, but this pair can sort matters out faster than my mother and her wee pal, Margaret. 

Elizabeth Knowelden brilliantly reads this rollicking romp about disappearances, espionage, ice cream, and donkey rides. I like any story with a fearsome female sidekick. Fearsome sidekicks have for too long been dominated by scary blokes with muscles.

I don't know if writer Clara Benson and narrator Gethyn Edwards are best pals, but they're matched so perfectly in this book; they should be. Anyway, here's a tip. If you're invited to a party in a rambling old country mansion with secret passages and dark histories, don't be a jerk. Because then you might find yourself dead in the library like Professor Coddington. Nobody is particularly upset at a killer being on the loose, except that sort of thing can ruin a party and a reputation.

Luckily, Freddie Pilkington Soames is on hand—the most ramshackle, thoroughly reprehensible, fabulous chap one could meet—to save the day. Clara Benson really knows how to write a great character. This book made me laugh out loud.  

When I was a kid, my Mum loved Upstairs Downstairs—a TV show about a household in Victorian England and the lives of the gentry upstairs and the servants downstairs. Nobody was allowed to even whisper when it was on. 

Well, the Mrs Jeffries Mysteries would have blown her mind. Because the servants in Detective Witherspoon’s household not only do regular servanting but also solve murders on the fly. 

There are loads of great characters: Mrs Goodge, the surly cook, Smythe, the fierce-looking coachman with a heart of gold, and of course Mrs Jeffries herself, who’s like a sherry-guzzling Sherlock Holmes who can tidy.

When Agatha Christie died, so did Miss Marple. It also meant the demise of the best wee-mustached Belgian detective ever. Except it didn't. The delectably smart Sophie Hannah has written a series of Poirot books from the point of view of Poirot’s sidekick, Edward Catchpool—best pronounced with a strong Belgian accent—and they’re so brilliant even Agatha herself would be impressed. 

Lady Athelinda Playford has invited Poirot to a party at her mansion, where she’s planning to announce changes to her will. So obviously, there’s going to be a murder, and Poirot and his little gray cells will solve it. It's a delicious book, read magnificently by Julian Rhind-Tutt. The only real mystery to be answered is when is Sophie Hannah writing more? 

Why did I first pick it up? Because of the cover. Why did I buy it? Because of the story promised on the cover flap. And it was a French, international, multi-translated mega-hit. What happened after I read it? I hunted down the author’s next 2 books and bought them, because holy smokes, this one blew me away. The crime scenes in this novel left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and once the pages started turning there was no stopping this deadly suspense train. Plus, Commandant Camille Verhoeven is about as uniquely cool as a protagonist can get.

When I was in middle school, middle-grade fiction didn’t really exist in the way it does now. There weren’t a ton of options for a young person who loved horror. So once I outgrew Goosebumps and Fear Street, I started reading adult horror. Stephen King. Dean Koontz. Anne Rice. I’ll never forget reading Interview with a Vampire for the first time. I had never been to New Orleans, but I was instantly transported. It was magical – electric. I could feel each word in my bones. Thus, you can only imagine my excitement discovering The Beautiful by Renée Ahdieh. To that point, I hadn’t read anything that reminded me more of Anne Rice’s writing style. Just like the title, this book was beautiful. And haunting. With a New Orleans setting, a forbidden love trope, and lots of animated characters that I immediately fell in love with. If you… show more.

As the much-missed Karl Lagerfeld once said, “Fashion is a train that waits for nobody.” And that train comes whooshing through Paris quite a lot.

This book captures some of the inimitable energy and agitation of Paris Fashion Week, as self-taught photographer Meyabe covers six seasons—men’s, women’s, and couture—over a single year. It includes an introduction by local fashion hero Loïc Prigent and is published by my friends Alex and Marie from Ofr. (who also published Makers Paris #2).

Ofr. is an indie arts bookshop, gallery and publisher, always in the moment, that channels a certain bohemian spirit proper to Paris: “Open, Free and Ready”.

I inhaled this gripping thriller in one sitting! It really made me go, wait, what? The author did a phenomenal job keeping me focused on certain details, while twirling other important details in the background. So when it all pieced together, I was truly in awe.

The twists in the book kept me hooked all through. Just when I thought, ah, I think I know where this is going, the very next chapter would make me change my mind. The pacing of this book added to the thrills.

I loved the writing and the characterization. This book, to me, is a great example of combining a most-loved genre while representing important voices and exploring and debunking assumptions. The main character is Filipino-American and I loved reading about the experience through the character’s eyes and told over many years so there’s a clear arc of the changes that time has brought… show more.

At first sight, the title evokes a certain Gallic hauteur, but it does not take long to see that this is simply a foretaste of the rich exploration of the myths of Paris – how the great city has been depicted, imagined, and perceived over time. This is the story of Paris as the capital of modernity, art, fashion, revolution, sex, pleasure, science, and crime. With writers, artists, poets, and visitors as witnesses, and lavishly illustrated, this is a colourful meander through the myths and illusions that have shaped the many images of Paris. 

Whatever the actual realities beneath these multiple faces, asks Higonnet at one point, ‘who could, in our culturally unanchored world, imagine life without this city?’    

If we want to understand medieval or modern Paris, we need to gain some familiarity with all of the stages along the way. Robb provides some episodic portraits of some of those stages, and the chapter on the eighteenth-century architect Charles-Axel Guillaumot is one of the most arresting discussions I’ve ever seen of how the actions of those living in one epoch can reverberate for generations to come. Guillaumot literally saved Paris from collapsing in on its medieval past by bracing up the swiss-cheese-like network of tunnels that had been left behind by its medieval quarry workers.