Books like Peyton Place — picked by fans

It starts with arguably the most famous first line any novelist has ever written, and I certainly couldn’t stop reading once I had absorbed that.

Rebecca is a classic for all sorts of great reasons. For me, the house is a character here. Manderley is as Gothic as I could ever wish for (and I LOVE Gothic).

Mrs. Danvers, the housekeeper, is one of the most sinister characters ever written. When this novel was first published (1938), certain subjects were pretty much taboo. In the light of today's increased awareness of people’s differing sexualities, I think it’s probably easier to understand her motives – not that it makes her any less scary.

For me, this is a masterpiece of storytelling that defies genre categorization and puts du Maurier firmly in my top favourite authors list.

Obviously, Hannah is a brilliant writer.

She checks all the boxes that I hunt for in thirties fiction. The Great Depression, family, and the persistent drive of a protagonist (Elsa) to survive in the midst of harsh adversity. I love when an author paints vivid word pictures of this era, and Hannah does a superb job (as usual).

I want to feel the thirties, to actually mentally become a participant in experiencing what the characters experience. Hannah does just that.

This roman à clef about billionaire Howard Hughes has everything you covet in a great beach read: money, power, sex, betrayal.

The rugged tycoon Jonas Cord and the screen siren Rita Marlowe tussle, tangle, couple, uncouple, and everything in between over decades and continents, and Robbins’s talent for saucy dialogue and spicier plotlines furiously bubbles to the surface in perhaps the last great book he wrote before his own life—as dramatic as anything he penned—and his work both began to crumble.

It’s hardly short (the original hardback clocks in at a hefty 650-plus pages), but I could not get enough of its blazing, take-no-prisoners leads as they barreled through the worlds of show business, aviation, and business to conquer the world.   

The Lost Ones is set a few years before my book, but I found it intriguing, and it has ghosts. While I usually don’t write ghost stories, I have written with supernatural undertones. This book has what I love: mysterious twists and turns. What’s more, I wanted to recommend it because I kinda stumbled upon it and wanted to share.

I’m not certain how many readers know of this book. But even though the time setting isn’t the same, I related to Willow’s character and Cady Blue. Both haven’t had an easy life, but you will fall in love with them. If you read this book, let me know if you do. Perhaps it’s because both characters have had hard beginnings. 

One of the great lions of mid-20th-century literature, Irwin Shaw is probably best known for Rich Man, Poor Man, which became television’s first big miniseries. But this book, chronicling the dark glamour of the Cannes Film Festival in 1970, centers on the antihero Jesse Craig, a burned-out film producer trying to regain relevance in an arena that worships the new.

Reading it today, you can’t help but wish that kind of effortless European style and chic still existed. It also contains one of my favorite exchanges in a novel, when a young woman asks Craig, “If you had to do it all over again, would you?” and he responds wearily, “No one gets to do it all over again.” Oh, snap!

I once asked Agnes Nixon, the creator of All My Children and other legendary daytime serials, how she became so good at plotting them. She replied, “I am a very good eavesdropper.”

I suspect O’Hara was, too. His 1959 epic (900 pages!) about a social-climbing, status-mad banker and the fashionable coterie of vipers he navigates to attain success at any cost is dipped in old-money style and privilege masking an ever-rotting core.

It’s packed with the one thing any great beach read needs: people keeping secrets who will do anything to protect them.    

Ok, so this is not technically midcentury (it was published in 1977), but I had to include one of those amazing 1970s yarns. I chose this one because I remember reading this as an adolescent and feeling it was sort of like a more adult, sophisticated Nancy Drew book, replete with cliffhangers at the end of each chapter.

This global potboiler, about a beautiful pharmaceutical heiress marked for murder, has enough twists and turns to keep anyone reading way past bedtime. I think it also planted the seed for me to write my own novels of courageous, Grace Kelly-style heroines caught up in the throes of romantic mystery and adventure. 

When the Robertsons bought their 18th-century home in Hampton, Ct., they inherited an unparalleled lode of documents assembled over 100 years of the previous owners’ history. Starting in the 1790s, the Traintors saved, it seems, every bit of paper that came through their hands: from private letters and business accounts, to pamphlets, social invitations, school records, and, of course books. The Robertsons spent years digesting this remarkable trove. In this book, they “open out” the evidence – as Laurel Ulrich did for Martha Ballard’s diary – in a way that transforms it into a moving and deeply intimate story of family life and community change in a small New England town. I found their tale – told often in the Taintors’ own words – to be vivid, immediate, a surprisingly frank, personal, and moving story.

Bob Gross, knowing that we shared an interest in New England towns in the early Republic, generously shared drafts of each chapter of this magisterial work. I was astonished. The depth and range of his research are unparalleled. In a life-work 45 years in the making, Bob has culled evidence on Concord from every conceivable source, showing the rest of us how it’s done. He has reconstructed families and linked neighbors through church, farm, business, political, and religious activities, using this to reconstruct the life of the town. Bob knows his people so well that I am convinced he has accurately captured their personalities, dynamics, and conflicts. It is rare that we can have such confidence in “knowing” the past. In engaging prose, he presents individuals actively shaping – or resisting – change in their town, and ultimately, their world.