91 Books Like Police at the Station and They Don't Look Friendly

Deon Meyer is one of South Africa’s best crime writers, and this novel is the second in a series featuring policeman Benny Griessel. Benny is a good cop and an ordinary guy. He’s also an alcoholic and his drinking has destroyed his family. Thirteen Hours is set in Cape Town and the action, as the title suggests, spans thirteen hours. A backpacker goes missing and the cops must find her before the bad guys do. It’s an edge-of-the-seat ride and I promise you’ll be cheering Benny on.

I’ve always been fascinated by the “dreaming spires” of Oxford University and enjoy Gaudy Night because it immerses me in the world of a (fictional) women’s college set in 1930s Oxford.

As a former professor, I’m intrigued by the internecine political and personal battles in the Senior Common Room (SCR), or college faculty lounge, as well as the friction between those professors devoted entirely to an academic career versus those trying to maintain the challenging balance of work and family, the same issues women struggle with today, nearly one hundred years later.

Sayers weaves together these tensions with a mysterious “poltergeist” who torments the college with poison-pen letters, pranks, vandalism, and violence into a compelling mystery under the dreaming spires.

Christine Falls is the first in a series of crime novels by Booker-winning author John Banville, writing as Benjamin Black. The novels are set in Ireland in the 1950s and they feature Quirke, a misanthropic, hard-drinking, depressive pathologist. All the novels in the series are master classes in how to manage setting, character, and language. All of them are great reads. I’ve chosen Christine Falls because it’s the first in the series. It starts with a presumed suicide and widens to feature corruption and betrayal by family, church, and state.

Peter Temple wasn’t just a good crime writer; he was a master storyteller. He’s my crime writing hero and I strongly recommend all his books, but as a ‘flawed detective’ it’s hard to go past his series starring Jack Irish and set in Melbourne, Australia. A former attorney, Irish went to pieces after the murder of his wife and now makes a living doing odd jobs like recovering debts. 

In Bad Debts, the first in the series, one of Irish’s clients calls him for help and by the time he answers, the client’s been murdered. Irish is emotionally damaged, an outsider. It’s hard-boiled crime, full of black humour, and featuring a wonderful array of Australian characters.

This is the first book in the remarkably excellent series set in Ireland during The Troubles about a Catholic police officer, Sean Duffy, who lives in Belfast. I love the way McKinty writes this character; it’s funny and very Irish and such a pleasure to read.

The mystery in this first book involves a corpse with its hand cut off, and then another person’s hand thrown into a car with them. There’s also some Italian opera mixed in for atmosphere. It’s a juicy murder mystery that I couldn’t put down.

I was twenty-five and enraged at the self-pity and posturing dominating the Irish peace process. I was dying to write yet terrified of even attempting to say anything in print. And then, like a rogue rocket, Divorcing Jack arrived. A hilarious assault on Northern Irish sacred cows right at the bitter end of the bloody Troubles. A timely, wisecracking strike back at a place where being a self-important Muppet had become a job description. So… Dan Starkey, suspected of murdering a lover, stumbles through local fiefdoms to solve the crime himself. He was in places I knew, bars I drank in, saying things that needed to be said. Divorcing Jack started a train of thought that still runs in my mind, one that insists rules are for rulers, not writers. 

I found this novel on a secondhand stall in Kenya when I was 18 or 19 and devoured it. Little known today, it was shortlisted for the Booker Prize and later adapted by the BBC.

Judd relates a tour by a fictional British Army unit in Northern Ireland in some of the most violent days of the Troubles in the 1970s. The protagonist, Charles Thoroughgood, is an Oxford graduate at a time when most army officers were school leavers, and the book chants his increasing disillusionment.

My early edition featured on the cover – next to a crouching individual in combats toting a pistol on a lanyard – an endorsement from Jack Higgins: “Quite simply one of the best novels of army life I’ve read in years.” Higgins was right. 

With my background, I had to include a book set in N. Ireland during the Troubles. McKinty’s books are a clever blend of fiction and nonfiction. His description and understanding of the absurdities of the Troubles mirror my own beliefs.

His RUC detective is a Catholic in a largely Protestant police force, and McKinty weaves an easily understandable tableau of what it took to live through the Troubles. It is something very difficult to explain to outsiders, though I believe the entire populace still suffers from PTSD.

It was not an easy read as it brought back many painful memories, such as being caught up in the horror of Bloody Friday.

Absurd, funny, ingenious, sad, and violent, this book is an ode to Belfast. The first line – and I’m big into first lines – runs: “All stories are love stories.” Are they? Are they not? I still don’t know. Yet that’s the nature of the characters here, the nature of this cynical society too, back in 1994 as the ceasefire trembled into life and everyone was confused by the silence. So, ceasefire time, an obese Protestant waster cashes in by selling ‘ethnic accessories,’ including walking sticks for leprechauns. And his erudite, tough Catholic mate prowls Belfast while getting hassled and thinking deeply about getting laid. Self-appointed ‘revolutionaries’ get torn a new one here, and rightly so. All of Wilson’s books are blunt among the beautiful. Sadly there’s all too few of them.

With its taut, beautiful writing and ever-rising tension, this novel kept me reading late into the night. In 2008 Belfast, “the Troubles” are very much alive, and sisters Tessa and Marian have grown into adulthood in a combustible atmosphere of menace.

When Tessa discovers that her sister has been involved in the IRA and has now become an informer against it, she plunges into the world of spies to help Marian end the ceaseless cycle of violence and retribution. The novel is more than a hold-your-breath thriller. I loved its exploration of what “terrorism” means when the terrorists are your neighbors and family and how much two women are willing to risk for peace—and each other.