Books like The Last King of California

I write what I call civic noir, crime fiction where the real antagonist isn’t a person but an institution: a courthouse, a precinct, a city hall that already knows how the story ends. I’m drawn to these books because the most frightening thing in them is never the gun; it’s the machinery, the procedure, the quiet way a system decides who’s guilty before anyone enters a courtroom. As a writer, I’m less interested in the villain than in the architecture that produces him. These five novels taught me how to make a building feel dangerous, and how to keep ordinary people from disappearing into the gears.

I’m a former rock writer turned television critic, but in my teens, I became hooked on Raymond Chandler’s hardboiled Philip Marlowe detective sagas. The plotting was intricate, the writing exquisite and poetic. I also loved the no-nonsense pulp fiction of Mickey Spillane and his Mike Hammer character. So I’m always on the lookout for authors who combine realism and pace with great prose–like James Crumley, whose writing was like Chandler crossed with Hunter S. Thompson. Through journalism and band management, I came into contact with real gangsters and have always aspired to reflect their three-dimensional reality rather than glorifying them as television and Hollywood tend to do.

I’m a former rock writer turned television critic, but in my teens, I became hooked on Raymond Chandler’s hardboiled Philip Marlowe detective sagas. The plotting was intricate, the writing exquisite and poetic. I also loved the no-nonsense pulp fiction of Mickey Spillane and his Mike Hammer character. So I’m always on the lookout for authors who combine realism and pace with great prose–like James Crumley, whose writing was like Chandler crossed with Hunter S. Thompson. Through journalism and band management, I came into contact with real gangsters and have always aspired to reflect their three-dimensional reality rather than glorifying them as television and Hollywood tend to do.

I’m a former rock writer turned television critic, but in my teens, I became hooked on Raymond Chandler’s hardboiled Philip Marlowe detective sagas. The plotting was intricate, the writing exquisite and poetic. I also loved the no-nonsense pulp fiction of Mickey Spillane and his Mike Hammer character. So I’m always on the lookout for authors who combine realism and pace with great prose–like James Crumley, whose writing was like Chandler crossed with Hunter S. Thompson. Through journalism and band management, I came into contact with real gangsters and have always aspired to reflect their three-dimensional reality rather than glorifying them as television and Hollywood tend to do.

I grew up watching old Bogart movies on TV with my father. From Phillip Marlowe to Sam Spade, I was taken with the life of the P. I. Once I was old enough to read and enjoy the irony as well as the sex and violence in Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer tales, I’d pull the detective novels from under my old man’s bed and spend time with all the lowlifes. Guess I’ve never grown out of my love for noir. That’s why I started writing P. I. novels as well as reading them. I hope they bring as much entertainment to others as those old-school sagas brought to me.

I began writing after reading multiple novels and watching the masters unfold stories page after page. With a background in homicide (working them, not committing them) and the move to forensics, a homeless man’s murder prompted me to write my first novel after I identified the deceased by skin removed from his thumb. I was hooked. Experience in the medical examiner’s office taught me how inciting incidents develop into an abundance of mystery, suspense, and thrills. It’s never as bad as it seems; it’s worse. The dead, unlike witnesses, tell the truth about what happened. More ingenious ways to die than ever imagined. This is why I write.

I write what I call civic noir, crime fiction where the real antagonist isn’t a person but an institution: a courthouse, a precinct, a city hall that already knows how the story ends. I’m drawn to these books because the most frightening thing in them is never the gun; it’s the machinery, the procedure, the quiet way a system decides who’s guilty before anyone enters a courtroom. As a writer, I’m less interested in the villain than in the architecture that produces him. These five novels taught me how to make a building feel dangerous, and how to keep ordinary people from disappearing into the gears.

As a second-generation immigrant, I knew very little of my family’s migration story. My grandparents never really learned English despite living in the US sixty or more years. In my twenties when the country was undergoing turmoil about immigration reform once again, I began looking at the immigrants all around me (and in literature) and identifying what we had in common—how our lives intertwined and were mutually dependent on one another. In 2007 I traveled 8,500 miles around the perimeter of the US by bicycle on a research trip to collect stories from immigrants and those whose lives they impacted. I wrote two books based on that experience.

If you live in the San Francisco Bay Area, you know that its climate is unique in the U.S. and that there are many microclimates within the region. It’s all mediterranean, as you can tell by its dry summers and mild, wet winters. But near the coast, summer fog carpets the land for weeks and winter is rarely frosty, while inland summers are hot, winter frosts are frequent. I live here and use my academic and first-hand experience with plants to help regional gardeners create year-round beauty and harvests in all of our wonderful, often perplexing microclimates.

Carrie Gibson is a London-based writer who grew up in the US and spends as much time as she can in Latin America and the Caribbean. She started out as a journalist, working at UK newspapers, including the Guardian and the Observer, before diving into a PhD and historical research on European colonialism and its legacy in the Americas. She is the author of two books and continues to contribute to media outlets in the UK and US.