Books like The Consultant

If American Psycho is too bloody an evocation of hyper-capitalism for your stomach, try this tragically under-appreciated door-stopper of a novel, in which an eleven-year-old becomes a millionaire by playing the stock market. Written almost wholly in unattributed dialogue! As with Pynchon, everything written by Gaddis deserves to be on this list; alas, alas. 

I still remember the first time I read this book. I laughed, then I winced, then I realized I had just been handed a live 18th-century grenade disguised as an essay. I was stunned by how Swift used reason itself as a weapon to expose cruelty. It is not just satire; it is intellectual rebellion in powdered wig form.

What I love most is how he never once breaks character. The horror of the argument creeps in slowly, and that slow-burn discomfort thrilled me. It made me rethink what writing can do… how it can mock, indict, and entertain all at once. I have never trusted “logic” the same way since. And I have never underestimated the power of deadpan again.

Did you remember when Jill Peel won an Oscar in 1950s Hollywood, and then destroyed her career by standing up to sexist producers? Then past her prime, she attempted a creative comeback by embarking on her directorial debut? Of course not! It’s all fiction, of course. But with McMurtry at the helm, you can’t help but mistake it for real life. One of my all-time favorite writers, the talented Texan manages to capture Hollywood, sexism, and complex people in an honest way. If you’re a fan of the everyday situational humor exuding in his works like Terms of Endearment and The Last Picture Show, you’ll thoroughly enjoy this still very relevant look at aging and gender in the motion picture industry. 

While I grew up at the tail end of the Cold War, there was something in The Mouse that Roared that really spoke to me. The way that it takes an already absurd reality to an extreme really spoke to my own sensibilities and humor. History books tell the facts, but stories like this reflect how absurd the geopolitical culture must have felt to most people. It’s akin to Dr. Strangelove, not only in being a Cold War satire, but in the absurd and extreme nature of the farce. It influenced my own political satire heavily.

The Short and Incredibly Happy Life of Riley is a book that, well, the first time I read it my mind was blown. This is a self-help book for all humans in a picture book. It takes our thirst to live forever, to always want more, be more, see more, do more, look better, and compares that with the wonderful Riley, who is happy with some fruit and maybe a couple of slugs on Tuesday or Friday.

He likes a little stick that can scratch his back.
He looks like Riley. Why would he want to look like anything else?

This is a beautifully written and illustrated book on being grateful for what we have.

This book gave me two pleasures: following its story and discovering how ingeniously that story had been assembled.

Its 127 short chapters sometimes contain little more than an idea, a joke, or a shift in perspective. At first, they require some patience. A few may seem disconnected or even unnecessary, but gradually they build upon one another like pieces of a mosaic.

Vonnegut leaves me room to assemble the whole, connecting science, religion, politics, and catastrophe without explaining every link. The form made me an active reader rather than a passive one. Its compression creates space for me to participate while allowing every absurdity to land with greater force.

In an age of codified and tropey stories with uninspired characters and safe plots designed to satisfy whatever market drivers the Big Five publishers are pushing, Trump Sky Alpha gives me hope. It is not about aesthetics, or one-dimensional coffee shop, shirtless Brads, or conforming political views. It is bonkers, aggressive, and hilarious. 

In the aftermath of a nuclear war initiated by Trump, the “Orange Man”, an American journalist, finds herself in a containment zone, documenting the defunct internet’s wild humorous takes: viral memes and twitter’s heated exchanges. The journalist’s assignment soon uncovers references to an enigmatic figure, only known as Birdcrash, one who might know how to stop Trump from flying in a luxurious zeppelin for "the very best people who look terrific.” Yes, you read that right. 

George Orwell is rightly famous for 1984 and Animal Farm. But I heartily recommend this book for its witty, gritty trudge through the social treacle of 1930s Britain. Orwell’s tale of Gordon Comstock, a young writer who embraces poverty in order to defeat the ‘money-god’, also foreshadows key themes of his later work.

Comstock has chucked in a well-paid job as a copywriter so he can write poetry. His disdain for the copywriter’s art allows Orwell to explore the emptiness of words yoked to advertising. ‘Vitamalt’, ‘Truweet’ and ‘Bovex’ are my favourites! Orwell, the journalist-novelist, is reliably strong on those under-the-skin details, from cheap cigarettes to the cost of lodgings in seedier parts of London.

I could have picked anything by George Saunders, really. He’s the closest thing I have to a personal deity. Such is the level of awe and wonder that he invokes in me, I actually find him difficult to discuss. It’s like trying to look directly at the sun.

Suffice it to say that CivilWarLand in Bad Decline—the title refers to a failing theme park—is like all of his other short story collections. It’s beautiful and wise and heart-breaking and deeply intelligent and, yes, desperately funny. I would pay a lot of money to be able to read it again for the first time. 

Vonnegut has been one of my favorite authors for a long time, and this might be the first collection I read that wasn’t specifically for young readers. Some of the future-set stories like “Harrison Bergeron” and “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” changed how I saw science fiction.

Welcome to the Monkey House introduced me to Vonnegut and to a love of short-story collections as a form, and it holds up remarkably well.