100 Books Like The Kimberly Killing

This book made me realise that women’s role in fiction didn’t have to be the ‘little woman’ or the ‘love interest’.

It was published back in 2001 when female protagonists were a rarity, but James Patterson gives us not one, but four strong women who get together to solve crimes that the police alone cannot. I love the fact that these women are willing to break the rules in order to succeed in a man’s world. But at the same time, they are a club in the traditional sense: they eat, drink, and have fun together, while watching each other’s backs.

It was a wonderfully empowering experience to discover this book (and even more so when I realised there were a whole series of books about the same group of women).

I don’t read historical fiction as a rule, so this one is a departure for me; and it’s not a traditional crime-fighting story either, but it hooked me from the first page.

I loved the concept of a matriarchal Roman Empire transported to Middle Europe and pulled forward into the twenty-first century. Then I discovered a main protagonist who has been brought up in America and has to come to grips with the fact that she is a member of the ruling family and a soldier at that. The crimes she and her sister officers fight against are political and conspiratorial, but they are crimes nonetheless.

A fascinating approach to history and a great way to reverse the stereotypes and make strong women the norm.

I saw Cathy Ace speak at a crime writers’ conference, and she was such a bundle of energy and a joy to listen to that I was already hooked before I read this book.

And I loved her collection of WISE women working together as a detective agency: one from Wales, one from Ireland, one from Scotland, and one from England. (I would never have spotted the opportunity those four initials provide.)

Four ordinary women, from different backgrounds, and with different experiences (and accents) learning to live together, work together, and solve crimes together. This is at the cosy end of the crime spectrum, but that’s why I like it so much. The crimes are real, but there’s not too much grit, and there’s bags of humour.

This is a funny book that made me laugh out loud from the start, which may seem odd, as it’s definitely not a cosy crime novel. In fact, it’s a gritty thriller, with some quite dark elements, but definitely leavened by the humour.

I love the fact that the two strong female protagonists are anti-heroines and it’s not clear whether they are working together or against each other. There were a number of twists that I completely missed. And I found the continual switch between the two women’s viewpoints kept me guessing throughout.

A scintillating and enjoyable romp.

Stranded on a dark road in the middle of the night, a young woman accepts a lift from a passing stranger.

It’s the nightmare scenario that every girl is warned about, and she knows the dangers all too well – but what other choice does she have? As they drive, she alternates between fear and relief – one moment thinking he is just a good man doing a good thing, the next convinced he’s a monster.

But a monster is exactly what she's looking for. When the driver drops her safely home Lucy’s heart sinks. She will have to try again tomorrow night. She’s made herself the bait, in her bid to find the man who took her sister.

Set in and around Dublin and the Dublin mountains, this gripping read from the author of The Nothing Man and 56 Days will keep you guessing until the very end. But… show more.

I chose this short book because it casts light on a hidden history—that of faction fighting. Contrary to widespread belief, factions were not confined to rural areas in Ireland, nor were they a wholly nineteenth-century phenomenon. Kelly’s book provides a detailed account of the development of factions in eighteenth-century Dublin, from the Kevan Bail to the Ormond and Liberty Boys (and other little-known factions), and vividly describes the periodic disorder associated with them as they tried to establish control in the city. Kelly also outlines how the city’s economic and demographic growth led to the social conditions which nurtured factionalism, and he traces changes in the nature of factionalism as the eighteenth century progressed. An enthralling read about a topic that has often gone under the historiographical radar!

When most people think of noir, they think of a cynical fedora-wearing, trenchcoated detective wisecracking his way through a mystery, and while that is part of the genre, it isn’t the whole of it. Noir can be funny, but that humor needs to be dark, and cynicism is a definite component. All of that is included in this book and it’s delivered with an Irish twist. Bruton’s hitman, Patrick Callen, who rides a bike through the streets of Dublin, is a man who likes lists: To-Do List: Kill Henry O’Neil, Meet the Bronze Man, Buy Food, Sleep with Olivia, Bike Shop, Visit Ma. But when he finds a baby on the job, it interrupts both his list and his life. A hitman and a baby—if that doesn’t make you want to read the book, nothing will.

The author tries to be fair. He gives general readers an overview of the complex Irish freedom struggle. I don’t agree with all his observations, but I find his book engaging.

He is well-known in Ireland, with a regular column in the Irish Times and many appearances on radio and television. Formerly of Dublin City University, he is now Professor of Modern Irish History at University College Dublin.

This, Sally Rooney’s first novel, was greeted with widespread critical acclaim. Fresh, witty, knowing, and au courant in its exploration of present-day sexual and romantic entanglements, the novel was clearly the work of a major talent. 

Both Conversations and Rooney’s highly popular second novel, Normal People, have been adapted for television. Perhaps you’ve seen one or both and have read the novels as a result. If not, I urge you to do so, beginning with Conversations. 

I haven’t yet watched either adaptation, but I believe that watching and reading have different sorts of advantages. Against the immediacy and vividness of watching TV shows, reading the novel will allow you to move at your own pace, to savor Rooney’s verbal dexterity, to revisit earlier scenes, and to discover their added significance. Watch (if you haven’t already), read, enjoy!

This book sticks the reader in the middle of a maternity ward in poverty and flu-stricken Dublin circa 1918. I was totally rooting for nurse Julia Powers, an experienced maternity nurse who works long, thankless shifts trying to keep women and their babies alive.

The lack of medicine, staffing, and money is appalling as women enter the hospital to give birth. Yet through empathy, determinism, and quick thinking, Julia, her trainee, and her patients find ways to help each other. It’s a tour de force in female friendship, intelligence, and problem-solving and an indictment of the medical incompetency of male physicians.

It illuminates a cross-section of Dublin citizens struggling with poverty, the Great Flu, and the aftermath of a horrendous war. I found the story moving, gripping, and somehow hopeful.