57 Books Like Revenge of the She-Punks

When I was 15, Liz Phair’s album Exile in Guyville completely turned me on to indie rock. Until then, everything I heard was baked for the radio. Liz’s dry, quivering voice, slipping in and out of key, singing candidly about sex and the unspeakable aspects of relationships, challenged the boys club and spoke to me in a way that Courtney Love and Shirley Manson hadn’t. I think it was her ability to tell a story, or maybe it was that nothing seemed “over-produced.” Either way, many years later, this book gave me important insights on the way Chicago indie-rock functioned in the ‘90s and how much bullshit Liz Phair had to put up with just for being herself.  

I’ve read this book twice. Both times, I couldn’t put it down. Alice Bag can tell a story, and my neurodivergent ass loves books parsed into bite-sized sections. Alice’s stories begin with her childhood and end with her becoming a teacher. 

I look up to Alice and relate to her a lot. We both grew up in difficult family situations; we were both ambitious teens who were able to befriend just about anybody; and then we both learned to express our creativity and exercise our demons through punk. Growing up a bit and reigning in our talents, we both became public school teachers. Not to mention, we both love to write our memoirs. It’s cool to see her grow and reflect on her experiences, and a perfect read for anyone wanting new stories about all the characters in the early LA punk sphere.

In her life and in her writing, Lydia Lunch is able to alchemize the agony of existence into euphoria more effectively than any artist that I can think of. I could have put any of her titles (Paradoxia, Will Work for Drugs, The Gun is Loaded, etc.) on this list. Her narratives – all true stories from her past – hit like a ton of bricks and leave your own blood on the page. Lydia views the world through carnage visors and takes no prisoners on her journey, weaponizing the abuse she experienced in childhood against authority as an adult. The seamy underbelly of her world is black and white with thunder strokes of red. While reading this collection of personal essays and interviews, you can viscerally hear her spooky, cigarette-burned voice as if she is whispering the prose directly into your ear from behind.

I’m a sucker for memoirs. And English teachers. Nancy is both. She teaches language arts at a public school in Massachusetts. But most importantly, she can tell a story. The book is a series of memories from the Philly and Boston hardcore scenes in the early ‘80s. It’s hard to put down, and it’s a really necessary account that tells of all the ways women were present and participating in what has always been referred to as a movement of exclusive, testosterone-induced navel-gazing. 

This is a book about the power of one musician to reimagine the shapes of identity and power in the face of centuries-long violence and pervasive discrimination against Black individuals and communities, and the ability of song and text to create new histories and futures.

I don’t think my words could possibly be better than Stephanie Phillips’s, so I’ll quote from her book here: “To watch Solange is to see a version of unapologetic Blackness many Black people aspire to—one that doesn’t subscribe to previous notions of what it means to be Black, one aware of self-preservation, one that doesn’t give a f*** about what Becky in the back thinks Black people should do.”

Whether you’re a fan of Solange’s music or not, you’ll find Phillips’s writing completely inspiring.

As far as I know, this is the first biography of an all-female or female-fronted band. When I saw it come out, I was thrilled but also thought: how in the world has it taken this long for someone to write a book about The Slits?!

Lucky for me (and for all of you), Zoe Howe was the one to do it because this book taught me that it’s more than possible to write about women in music (even when male journalists and music writers omit women altogether, marginalize them in print, or criticize their work). 

There are incredible and powerful queer musicians making country music, but you wouldn’t know it given the ways a lot of journalism works.

This book is absolutely essential reading if you’re interested in untold stories of country music, and queer artists working against the grain and despite rampant discrimination.

Also, the University of Illinois Press is doing amazing things for bringing smart books to public readers—don’t assume this book isn’t for you because it was published by an academic press! The opposite is true. This book is brilliant and accessible. 

This is an essential history for anyone interested in the story of punk, and for anyone who loves comics or graphic novels!

Not only does the book convey untold stories of Black artists in punk, post-punk, new wave, and more, but it tells those stories through incredibly drawn images. Yes, it’s a comic book! It also pushes back against the idea that “punk” is centered around a specific period or sound, highlighting crucial artists like Sister Rosetta Tharpe alongside Black women of the original UK punk scene like the fabulous Poly Styrene.

You’ll be making yourself a playlist and buying this book as a gift for readers of all ages in your life. 

Having lived through the time featured in Laura’s memoir, I was able to relive fond memories and learn much more about the people and incredible music of that era, when these bands were “our little secret” before the world caught on. 

This memoir was written by Laura, the young drummer of the New York band Student Teachers in the late 1970s. Laura was Jimmy Destri's girlfriend (Blondie's drummer). She shares sometimes harrowing and many joyful tales of NYC’s downtown rock scene and the bands that would become legendary. 

Tara Lopez suggests something new, prioritizing punk’s diverse expression over its tired origin myths. By turning our attention to the 1990s El Paso scene that produced bands like At the Drive-In, Lopez gives us a granular, expressive take on all the things that draw us to punk: its liberatory potential, DIY ethos, and ability to impact individual lives.

Through accessible oral histories, we get a sense of how vital punk rock could be against the backdrop of border politics and in a scene off the beaten path where DIY takes on new meanings. As a punk-curious 90s adolescent myself who listened in on El Paso from Austin, Dallas, and South Texas, this account resonated deeply—there was much that was familiar, but even more to learn.