100 Books Like The Land of Laughs

I absolutely fell for and into this seductive and sublimely entertaining book about a journalist investigating the enigma of Stanislas Cordova, an infamous and reclusive horror movie director. Nobody knows where he is or even if he’s still alive.

The invention of Cordova’s legend in the book is inspired; I love how Pessl builds layers of fake pop culture references and internet rabbit holes that feel so real you can almost hear the flicker of celluloid of one of Cordova’s movies playing out in your head. Even years after reading this book, I still recall it vividly in my mind’s eye.

I believe this book is one of the classic staples of surreal fiction. Its disjointed, spiraling narrative and sprawling non-linear plot lines challenge the definition of what a ‘book’ is. It uses everything from footnotes to text alignment to color schemes to make the act of reading itself increasingly difficult, which matches the house’s influence on the narrators’ memories and interests.

Reading it for me was like learning Latin or watching Casablanca–it gave context to decades of experimental media inspired by it, from TV shows to DOOM game mods. Love it or hate it, it’s a solid tool for any inhuman’s toolkit. 

Oh, Was, how I love your relentlessly bleak, depressing sadness.

This is a strangely inventive novel that twines reality and fantasy into a brutal, desolate, yet gorgeous story of pain and survival. Told from the points of view of numerous characters, each story is tethered in some way to The Wizard of Oz, that venerable fable about good versus evil in the search for home.

Ryman introduces us to a main trio of characters whose lives are all equally harrowing–Dorothy Gael (the imagined inspiration for The Wizard of Oz heroine and the victim of familial sexual abuse), Frances Gumm (who becomes the tragic Judy Garland), and Jonathan (an actor experiencing AIDS-related dementia)–whose stories he intricately weaves together like a master craftsman. And while the novel is not a “happy” read by any stretch of the imagination, what has stayed with me throughout the past thirty years is its… show more.

Tom Reamy’s first novel was also to be his last. Its carnival sideshow setting is reminiscent of Geek Love, Nightmare Alley, and much of Ray Bradbury, but with a poignancy and sense of place that set it apart. I can guarantee that you’ll never forget Angel, the mute, blind flying boy. Reamy was an active genre critic, editor, and convention organiser for at least two decades before he began submitting the fiction he’d been working on in private. Its impact was immediate but he saw little of its success, struck by a heart attack while working on a story at the age of 42. For me his legacy—this novel, and the collection San Diego Lightfoot Sue and Other Stories—equal that of many a more prolific author.

This book arrived in the avalanche of volumes that descended on my house the year I agreed to join the judging panel for the World Fantasy Awards, and for me it shone out. The story’s told by Hans Schneider, who kills a fellow student when a duel goes wrong and ends up working in a low-rent asylum. There he meets the mysterious Dr. Lavenza and joins him in a mission to locate Victor Frankenstein’s formula for eternal life. It’s written with style and wit and a great sense of period. I felt so strongly about the lack of a paperback edition that I later offered to create one for the Brooligan Press. And for the avoidance of doubt, I don’t make a penny from its sales!

Sarah Hall is a phenomenal writer and this is the novel that got me hooked. The Electric Michaelangelo of the title is tattoo artist Cy Parks, a man whose heart, art, and the love of his life are all inextricably entangled. The narrative charts his journey from a Morecambe childhood to a tattoo booth on Coney Island and back again, and it’s another take on the kind of Sideshow Gothic that I love. Hall writes accessible award-worthy novels in prose that’s stripped of any pretentiousness. After reading this and then her debut novel Haweswater I just order whatever she publishes, sight unseen.

I knew Joel for over twenty years before his untimely death in 2013. He was a huge inspiration as a writer (and human being) to me. The narrator, Martin, has recently bought a house and found some old VHS cassettes, one of which has a copy of a French art film, L’eclipse des sens–the work of the director Jean Rien. Soon, despite Martin’s world coming apart, he becomes obsessed with the director’s work, and he embarks on a hallucinogenic odyssey of discovery into the underworld.

Lane was also an award-winning poet and it shows; his words are concise and beautifully chosen, his prose icy, mordant, political and desperately sad. His was a voice of the lost. Although Joel is gone, he left behind an incredible contribution to the genre of weird fiction.

I’ve loved this book since the day I unwrapped it in that bookstore I used to work at in 1992. Over the years I’ve re-read it several times and found it reveals more of itself the older I get. Harrison’s writing is hugely influential for a lot of writers, not only for his exquisite way with prose but also because he uncovers complex truths and epiphanies hiding inside ordinary people who find themselves occasionally touched by the fantastical. 

The heart of this novel is a fictional book—the imaginary memoirs of a travel writer traversing Europe in pursuit of a magical realm. Everything revolves around it, and this exquisite book is like a puzzle box that the years have only served to slowly unlock for me.

One of the best Henrie O novels, I love it that this takes place within the hallowed halls of the academia at the fictitious Thorndyke University, where the sixty-something journalism professor-turned sleuth encourages an ambitious student to dig up the dirt on three unsolved local crimes. Of course, the student gets killed, and against the wishes of the police and the powers-that-be Henrie O gets involved, dredging up a past everyone wants to keep buried. I now realize that not knowingly, but at a subconscious level, this novel inspired me to write mine!

Many would point to Flagg’s Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café as her opus to rural America, but the broader scope of The Whole Town’s Talking pulled me in instantly.

She draws out a full history of a small town, its good and bad and the people that made their mark there, some from birth to death. Even after death, their voices remain an active part of her tale, remaining as unbashful observers from the cemetery on the hill.

So much of rural America has fallen into disrepair, as does Flagg’s fictional Elmwood Springs, but I hold out hope that the increase in telecommuting and simmering desires to leave urban (and suburban) lives behind can reinvigorate some of these sleeping villages that are spread across much of the nation.