100 Books Like The Gallery

I’m a huge fan of satire, as I believe it can inform and make you think critically, as well as being wildly entertaining.

I think Catch-22 is one of the most perfect satires about the absurdity and tragedy of war. I’m not the fastest reader, but Heller’s dialogue, humor, and sharp observations of the human condition under the perversion of war had me turning the pages quickly. 

I was surprised to learn that John Hersey won a Pulitzer Prize in 1945 for a novel—in fact, his first. I had always thought of him as mainly a journalist for The New Yorker. One of my students recommended this. He was the grandson of the model for the main character, an Italian-American US Army major. My student was proud of his “nonnu,” the Allied military governor of a Sicilian village, for his efforts to help the starving villagers.

What they wanted more than food, though, was to replace the church bell that Mussolini had requisitioned to melt down and make into weapons. Spoiler alert: in the novel (and in real life), he succeeds—despite opposition from a superior officer, a thinly disguised General George S. Patton.

Living off and on in Italy for more than twenty years, I’ve been struck by Italians’ ambivalence toward Americans. On the one hand, they credit us with liberating them from Mussolini’s fascist dictatorship. On the other hand, they blame us for the harm that the preferred US strategy—aerial bombardment—caused to civilians and the sometimes high-handed and racist policies of the Allied occupation.

I was fascinated to find this deep ambivalence captured so well in Hayes’s novel, ostensibly a love story of a lonely US soldier and a destitute Italian woman displaced to Rome by the bombing of her native Genoa. As someone who teaches about gender and war, I appreciated the author’s subtle treatment of the power imbalances between two characters representing the victorious and vanquished countries.

As a historian of the Allied bombing of Italy, I read a lot of depressing accounts of the suffering of Italian civilians. It was a relief to discover that fellow historian Erik Linklater, author of the official British history of the Italian campaign, had published a comic novel based on his wartime experiences.

Its hero is Private Angelo, the reluctant soldier who issues forth such gems as: “It has taken us a long time to lose the war, but thank heaven we have lost it at last, and there is no use in denying it.”  Linklater doesn’t hide the war’s devastating toll or sugarcoat the occupation itself. “We are very grateful to you for coming to liberate us,” he has Angelo tell the Americans, “but I hope you will not find it necessary to liberate us out of existence.”

Fadeout is the first book in Hansen’s Dave Brandstetter mysteries. The protagonist, an openly gay insurance investigator in 1970s California, is convinced that a man who has been reported dead is actually still alive, and he must hurry to find him. Another classic in the gay mystery canon, Fadeout is vividly noir, grittily honest, and rejects cliches and stereotypes in a way that is still shocking over fifty years later.

Written in the fifties, perhaps the author’s gender helped excuse her brave assumption that the intimate thoughts and feelings of a group of young gay men attempting to come to terms with their sexual identity was a valid topic. Renaud writes of stunted lives: the invented girlfriends, the cautious hints to probe another man’s preferences, the desperate need to belong, provoking the retreat into society’s stereotyping even amongst themselves. The novel is dated; one character has to explain to another what drag is! But it was one more step towards gay men’s forming their identity and self-acceptance. 

Michael Ondaatje’s novel is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. It is not a study or analysis of Herodotus’ history, and yet Herodotus’ spirit infuses virtually every page. Taking place during World War II, it explores the intertwined lives of four characters, including the unnamed English patient, who has survived the shooting-down of his plane, although he is severely burned.

He has nothing with him but his annotated copy of Herodotus’ Histories. I loved Anthony Minghella’s 1996 film adaptation of the novel, and it is no criticism of the film to say that it treats only one of the many strands one finds in the book. Meditating on space, time, identity, and truth, The English Patient is a book that I think Herodotus would have loved.

This summer I visited Fort Davis, Texas and learned about the “buffalo” soldiers who were stationed there in the 1860s.

This was the nickname for African-American soldiers, who were separate regiments in the U.S. Army. McBride’s novel deals with a “buffalo” regiment but is set in World War II in Italy. I did not know anything about the experiences of African-American soldiers in World War II.

What I really loved about this book was the unlikely situations that a small group of African-American soldiers find themselves in a tiny village in Italy, under siege from the Germans. Despite the differences in culture and language, the soldiers find refuge and friendship with an Italian peasant, who is raising rabbits under the floorboards of his ramshackle cabin.

One of their pals saves a disturbed Italian orphan and the small group of soldiers, separated from their regiment, get sidetracked by this humanitarian mission… show more.

I loved this book from page one because I instantly wanted to be the main character, Max Moody’s, friend. He’s incredibly relatable and has impeccable taste in music.

His love interest, Chasten, was charming and sweet, and the combination of their personalities made them easy to root for. Plus, I laughed out loud and smiled all the way through their love story. 

Unlike the other recommendations I’ve given so far, this one is an ongoing series… and a manga.

Now, before you pull back. What if I told you that in addition to the beautiful art, this series had some of the most incredible and complex characters that I’ve seen in queer romance? What if I told you that it touched upon important topics like grief, internalized homophobia, familial expectations, depression, and what it’s like growing up gay in Japan?

Not to mention the sweet, spicy scenes between the two main characters as they grow together in their relationship. It’s one of my all time favorites and even if you aren’t a big manga reader or into anime, it truly is worth it.