Books like The Godwulf Manuscript — picked by fans

I liked this hundred-year-old novel because it explores some darker doubts and concerns I have always had about “the hidden heart of mankind unrestrained.” What’s more, the theme of Heart Of Darkness is reflected in the movie Apocalypse Now, with stark modern-day observations on the wounds the violence of war can inflict on the hearts and minds of humans.

This book introduced me to the gritty world of Los Angeles police detective Harry Bosch. I love Bosch’s smarts and toughness, yet beneath his hard exterior lurks a sensitive heart. He is fond of saying, “Everybody counts, or nobody counts,” and he means it.

Whether the victim is a rich businessman or an impoverished drug addict, Bosch pursues justice with the tenacity of a bulldog. Not only that, he makes tough choices with an ironclad sense of right and wrong. After reading it, I devoured everything Michael Connelly has written. I’m that fan who pre-orders his next book as soon as the announcement hits my inbox.

When I first read this book, I was somewhat mystified by what the fuss was all about. All I could see was a story of a group of dissolute and disillusioned expats living a pointless life of pettiness and drinking. However, as I separately learned more about Hemingway and his writing style, I was drawn back to the book, and on subsequent readings, I was able to discern more in the characters and the plot than was apparent in my first reading.

The protagonist Jake Barnes, impotent because his penis appears to have been shot off as a result of a wound in World War I, is further emotionally damaged, possibly with PTSD from his war experiences and with a cynicism and sadness that engage the reader’s attention. 

I liked this book because of its unique plot. After the American Civil War, ex-trooper and sharp shooter Valdez is working as a part-time small town sheriff. He gets on the bad side of a wealthy rancher who has a gang beat him up and leave him for dead out in the desert.

But after this excellent opening, I love what happens next.  Valdez is a survivor: he returns to face off against incredible odds, to regain his honor and see that justice prevails. 

Street names, the Charles River, bridges, the Back Bay, the Public Gardens, actual hotels and restaurants—Robert B. Parker’s forty Spenser novels make Boston so much a character that Parker wrote Spenser’s Boston. The sixth novel in the series, published in 1980, has Spenser searching for a missing lesbian activist who’s been kidnapped by an anti-gay group. Like Buffalo, Boston sometimes gets a lot of snow. Unlike Buffalo, which is not the snowiest city in New York but is depicted as such, Boston is not known as a snow capital. That Spenser must search during a blizzard is a welcome dose of realism.

This is another author I read religiously, and the connection between Spenser and Hawk is one of the primary reasons why. But this book has stayed with me in a way the others haven’t because of the dramatic way Parker clarified the difference between these two characters in one of the most impactful closing scenes in the entire series.

Lehane, one of my favourite authors, introduces the crime writer’s device of the duo, in his first Kenzie and Gennaro novel. For me, as in my own DCI Steel novels, the duo in writing can work to inform, or mislead, the reader and, if handled well, the reader doesn’t notice, seeing the interaction between characters as normal. Clichés abound in crime fiction, especially in lead characters, but Lehane avoids this with P.I. Patrick Kenzie, and his lifelong friend, Angie Gennaro. Given the area they inhabit, with its racial and gang tensions, added to the clients they have, clichés would seem unavoidable, but—once again—the lesson here is to write multi-faceted characters, which Kenzie and Gennaro emphatically are. They are flawed, but in Lehane’s hands, triumphantly human, and very believable.

Parker’s Spenser is a reliable tough guy with a good heart. A former soldier and heavyweight boxer, he tends to make short work of anyone foolish enough to fight him. But in Small Vices, he is shot by the villainous Gray Man and left for dead. After he’s discharged from the hospital, Spenser has to readjust to a gravely weakened body as he struggles to physically and mentally recover from his wounds.

This journey brings a new level of emotional depth to the series and lends added resonance to round two with the Gray Man, during which Spenser describes himself as Lazarus, “back from the grave to tell all.”

A small town bursting with secrets? A loner protagonist who is smart and funny, with a lot to prove? Where do I sign up?

Frankie Elkin is on a one-woman mission to find missing people that everyone else has given up on. She goes to Boston to look for a missing teenager but encounters a fair amount of resistance when she starts asking questions.

This book has a lot of heart and is one of those that demands to be read in one sitting.

As great as it was, Eddie Coyle didn’t leave much of a cultural footprint, at least not until the movie adaptation starring Robert Mitchum was rediscovered decades after its initial release. Robert B. Parker’s Spenser is another matter entirely, having spawned nearly 40 novels by Parker, another 10 by Ace Atkins, a popular ‘80s TV series, and a Netflix movie starring Mark Walhberg. Picking just one of the durable shamus’s adventures is a daunting task, but I’ll give the nod to Ceremony for its evocation of the seedy seventies Combat Zone (Boston’s long-gone red light district) and the murky morality of Spenser’s dealings with a teen runaway turned sex worker.