100 Books Like Night Boat to Tangier

What I love about this short story collection by a true master of the writing craft is how psychedelic it is, without any actual references to drugs or counterculture.

Every story is a mind-bending trip delivered straight to the dome through innovative language and upended logic. I love the rabbit holes Borges sends his readers down, like the first story’s development of an entire other human civilization through the discovery of its never-ending encyclopedia.

The title Labyrinths is so fitting – reading these stories is like making your way through a literary maze with psychic surprises and twists around every turn of the page. 

A history of the early 1960s in America, leading up to the assassination of JFK, seen through the eyes of the mobsters and criminals, crooked cops, spies, and sleazos who power the machines of history.

A comprehensive romp through the underbelly of American crime and politics (and you might, after reading this book, wonder what’s the difference), it’s a novel about characters you don’t like—but they’re vivid and fascinating.

Much more than a gritty gangster novel, it’s a tale about the people in history’s shadows, and, ultimately, history and the “never innocent” America itself. 


Literally, this is the Godfather of Mafia novels and the book that made, “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse,” part of the American vernacular.

It’s a great read, and it later became a great movie. I quote Michael Corleone from Godfather III in my novel. Marlon Brando as Vito Corleone was the reigning king of fictional Mafia dons until Tony Soprano walked onto the small screen.

Author Mario Puzo wrote The Godfather to get out of debt. He succeeded and magnificently so.

Early in this book, a character uses his kitchen oven to dry out some psychedelic mushrooms harvested from the rooftop garden at his flat in World War II London. Dosing the characters (and somehow the reader) with Amanita Muscaria is an appropriate way to set the tone of this book.

Mushroom experiences are fun and giggly and clever, at times, but they can also open the mind to the evils mankind is capable of and the intricate conspiracies seemingly hiding in plain sight. Which is what I love about Gravity’s Rainbow – Pynchon’s writing is hilarious, but then he’ll hit you with a gut punch so poignant it will linger in your mind for decades. 

Few writers inhabit history, distill it, and convey the feeling of an era with the verve or immediacy of E.L. Doctorow.

In Billy Bathgate, he trains his lens on the 1930s and introduces us to Billy Behan, a fatherless Irish-Jewish kid from the Bronx, who has a chance encounter with New York gangster Dutch Schultz and decides “whatever my life was going to be in this world it would have something to do with Mr. Schultz.”

Add a love triangle, a colorful cast of mobsters, murder, blackmail, a special prosecutor, and you have the propulsive plot and rich characters that power this unforgettable novel.   

Retired hitman Frankie Machianno thinks he’s left the past behind and can focus on the things that matter—wife, mistress, daughter, surfing, perfect kitchen, roasting coffee, cooking.

But someone is coming for him and wants him dead. The problem is: Frankie doesn’t know who. As he tries to figure it out, we learn about Frank, his family, his lover, and his past, from San Diego beach bum to mafia “button man.”

He’s my favorite kind of gangster—the good guy bad guy—and I couldn’t help but like Frank and fear for his life, as the novel hurtles toward its bittersweet conclusion.



When I moved to Scotland for my postgrad year studying writing at the University of Edinburgh, the apartment I rented had one book in it – this collection of short stories, set in the same city.

I was pretty sure Trainspotting was the best novel I’d ever read, but I wasn’t aware of this collection of three works of Irvine Welsh’s short fiction. My first night in the apartment, I sat on the one chair and read the one book. And what a buzz!

I loved the mix of grittiness, euphoria, and dark-as-night humour. The focus on club drugs was more relatable than the heroin culture of Trainspotting (although to my delight, Spud Murphy makes a cameo appearance – twice!). 

I imagine just being in the same room as Shane MacGowan would have given me a contact high, and that’s the effect this book had on me.

It’s a series of conversations (one imagines over many, many drinks) with the woman who was his longtime partner and who would become his eventual wife, writer Victoria Mary Clarke.

Besides the absolutely unbelievable stories from this genius of Irish music’s childhood (which I loved), some of the best parts of the book are when Victoria is trying to get into his head around his unparalleled levels of drug and alcohol consumption. When he tells her he started drinking at 5, standing on the kitchen table and singing for bottles of stout, it’s understandable.

I loved hearing the real stories behind his public, on-stage persona, which were as real, drunk, and gritty as his music and voice. 

Many an idealistic young law student like me felt that jolt in our spine early on when we saw up in the balcony of that courthouse a sleepy Scout being told, “Stand up, Jean Louise. Your father’s passin’.”

The movie is as faithful to the novel as the medium would allow. The novel is told entirely from Scout’s POV and not only focuses upon the racism of the time and place, but also upon her coming of age as a tomboy and being told to act “As a little girl should.”

The book offers more to those of us for whom the rule of law and not of men is a passion, especially in Finch’s closing: “There is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of Rockefeller, a stupid man the equal of Einstein… That institution, gentlemen, is a court.” 

This book includes one of the most famous portrayals of a sculpture on stage, and is one of my favorite Shakespeare plays. One of his later works, it combines a story very like the tragedy of Othello with a second half that has an entirely different mood of youth and hope, love, and redemption.

In the play’s final scene (spoiler alert!), a party including King Leontes and his newly-found daughter, Perdita, gathers to admire the work of a celebrity sculptor, Julio Romano. The statue perfectly depicts Leontes’ wronged wife, Hermione, whom he believed dead.

In this glorious moment, Hermione comes back to him in the form of a living statue stepping down from its pedestal. There’s a delightful ballet version of the play, too.