Books like Stairway to Hell

The first full novel by Hill—who I secretly recognized as Stephen King’s son—takes his father’s traditions to a whole new level. I fell immediately in love with Hill’s twisted yet insightful storytelling.

An aging rockstar protagonist who sets out to confront his unsettling past and weird addiction to odd memorabilia? Yes, please. I’m in awe of Hill’s ability to pack more into a single sentence than most authors do in an entire chapter. He balances the pace of a face-melting guitar solo with the gentle tenderness of vulnerability as his characters struggle to understand their place in the world.

This book had me clutching the covers one moment and reaching for the tissues in the next.

The cutest book I’ve ever read about being a fan. Warm and softhearted, Chuck’s writing is literary comfort food.

A music and sports journalist turned memoirist, this is his misty-eyed look back at childhood. Like an episode of The Wonder Years all about Hair Metal. You can substitute Hair Metal for anything chronically un-cool that you ever fell in love with.

It’s a gleeful defence of the dork inside, a reminder that taste is subjective, that fashions come and go, that when we poo-poo things we’re denying ourselves potential enjoyment. There’s no such thing as a guilty pleasure. Pleasure is pleasure, and there isn’t enough of it in this sorry world.

So, curl up with Klosterman and enjoy what you enjoy. 

If Hunter S. Thompson’s work is writing as rock ’n roll, early Mark Leyner is writing as thrash metal.

And like most practitioners of thrash, he mellowed out and slowed down as he got older. But his early shit? Look out! Faster than a bullet and harder than algebra. Whopping great gobs of language, slanguage, lexicon, and terminology gush up off the page.

Not only are there no brakes, there are seemingly no limits at all, his mind doesn’t wander, it careens and chugs and screeches and free falls… and if you follow you’ll be rewarded: with laughter, shock, awe, poignancy, and something akin to a deep, ecstatic numbness. Leyner’s words sharpen the senses and push the brain into the red, just like thrash metal does. 

If you don’t know Poppoff, you should. He’s a genial Canuck Youtuber who also happens to be the world’s most prolific music reviewer.

An inveterate headbanger with an unquenchable thirst for loudness. In this—the book for which he’ll surely be remembered—Poppoff turns his eye on the whole prehistory of heavy metal, breaking the music down into component parts, and tracing those components backwards through time.

From psychedelia to early rock n roll, blues, jazz, classical music, all the way back to the Vikings, the Ancient Greeks, and the Battle of Jericho in 1250 BC. If there’s a better researched, more thorough, or more sweeping book about loud music on the planet Earth, I ain’t aware of it.  

Like me, John Darnielle of the band Mountain Goats (a Merge Records act, as it happens) was not born in North Carolina, but fully embraced it upon moving here.

After much acclaim for the twisted freak-folk of his band, Darnielle launched a parallel career as a fiction writer with this novella in Continuum Books’ 33-1/3 series.

Nominally about the 1971 Black Sabbath album of the title, Master of Reality is actually a personality sketch of obsessed and troubled super-fans of the sort Darnielle has in abundance in his hometown of Durham and elsewhere.

He has followed it up with more literary greatness, especially his revelatory 2014 novel Wolf in White Van.

I saved the best for last. Rob Halford has lived the life of the Metal God for decades. In his autobiography, Halford doesn’t shy away from anything. The title is truthful; the pages are his confession for a life lived on the edge. Halford begins with his childhood and how he grew to love singing. He has one of the widest vocal ranges in metal, and his influence over the past fifty years with Judas Priest or his solo works is undeniable. Where this autobiography stands out is Halford speaking about how he hid his homosexuality from everyone. The pain he explains is genuinely heartbreaking, and I found myself surprised by how moving his words are. Don’t get me wrong; it isn’t a sad book because Halford has fun telling his story to the world.

By the book’s end, when he comes clean to the public about his life in… show more.

This book is one hell of a ride.

Anthony Kiedis is brutally honest about the highs and lows of fame, addiction, and trying to get clean. What really hit me was how addiction could keep dragging him back in even when he knew exactly how much damage it was causing. I know that feeling of thinking you’re in control while your life is slowly falling apart around you.

This book helped me understand that recovery is about continuing to choose a better life, even when it feels hard and messy, and believing you’re capable of becoming more than the person you were at your lowest.

If a person ever personified being a metal god, it was Lemmy. The leader for the legendary Motorhead didn’t care about how he appeared to people. Lemmy wanted to kick ass on stage and leave a legacy marked by booze and smokes. This book shines the light on how Lemmy rose to become one of the most influential vocalists and bass players in metal. If you like an irreverent look at the price of fame, this book is for you.

Nearly twenty years ago, I wondered why nobody had written about being a rock fan in the nineteen-eighties, and then I came across Seb Hunter’s Hell Bent for Leather.

Hunter’s story was very similar to mine (we’re of a similar age and based in the UK), but whereas I still love the music and look back on my ultimately futile rock star aspirations with a certain sense of pride and warmth, Hunter is dismissive of his more successful attempt, and embarrassed by his allegiance to the spandex and six strings.

So why recommend this book, I hear you say? One word – passion. His stories and opinions, though I may not agree with all of them, clearly come from the heart and cut through his often cynical but incisive narrative.

The previous four books on my list have been pretty dark. “Heavy,” I guess, is relative. I find a lot of humor in them and, ultimately, that’s why I either have re-read them or plan to. This one isn’t as heavy on the violence as the previous ones. Often cited as a good example of dry British humor, written by a former bus driver, it’s the story of two fence-builders who travel the English and Scottish countryside in a caravan erecting fences. However, it seems like every time they’re on a job, they end up accidentally murdering someone. Rather than getting bogged down by things like remorse or guilt, they are much more interested in covering it up and saving their backs. One of them is obsessed with heavy metal and his hair. It’s a very weird and satisfying book.