Books like The Master Butchers Singing Club — picked by fans

Many an idealistic young law student like me felt that jolt in our spine early on when we saw up in the balcony of that courthouse a sleepy Scout being told, “Stand up, Jean Louise. Your father’s passin’.”

The movie is as faithful to the novel as the medium would allow. The novel is told entirely from Scout’s POV and not only focuses upon the racism of the time and place, but also upon her coming of age as a tomboy and being told to act “As a little girl should.”

The book offers more to those of us for whom the rule of law and not of men is a passion, especially in Finch’s closing: “There is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of Rockefeller, a stupid man the equal of Einstein… That institution, gentlemen, is a court.” 

I mean, not sure how much I need to say about the delight this book has brought to children since 1952. After being asked to read it to a group of first graders recently, I dissolved into tears having to read the scene where Charlotte dies, alone. The students that day thought I was silly. Yeah, as a kid, that didn’t bother me much. As an adult, well.

There’s something in this tale of love, friendship, and courage for all ages. Excellent for read-aloud if you are willing to commit to using different voices and really hamming it up.

One of my absolute favourite storytellers, Guy Vanderhaege can transport the reader into his imagined world with the first sentence.

This historical prairie fiction, the fully conceived characters and storyline, and that important rural farm setting makes this book a favourite that I have often re-read.

The complicated dark and sometimes comedic entanglements of family, the disconnects and reconnections because of mistruths, misunderstandings, lost opportunities, and redemption are woven in an intriguing, believable fabric that will break a reader’s heart.

A work of historical fiction that begins in 1949 is a story that examines the complexities of characters who are fully fleshed out and believable.

Life rarely turns out the way we hopefully anticipate—there are failures, successes, deaths, illness, joys. There are so many occasions that all of us can look back at the small decisions, the small forks in the road that when taken and made affect the course of ours lives in ways we would have never thought possible. The characters in this book grab us and take us with them on the journey of those lives.

Lying and cheating are not even the worst things that happen in this extremely compelling, twisty debut novel about an ambitious thief named Ivy. In addition, it explores the hardships and challenges of the immigrant experience while keeping you on the edge of your seat, which is a very impressive feat on its own.

The Weight of this World is one of my absolute favorite additions to southern literature. I enjoyed this book, and honestly all of David Joy’s books, because it is crafted in a way to show darkness while at the same time showing glimmers of hope within the characters. This novel is real, raw, and a wonderful read that I would recommend to anyone who is looking to read a book that you can’t put down because of the action, the moments of self-discovery, and the depiction of the roughness within the world.

I remember reading this in my student bedsit and being transfixed. I was studying art but had just decided that I wanted to be a novelist. As such, I loved the opening lines: “A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.”

It is a simple yet beautiful book about love, belief, and betrayal. I’m not religious, but the testing of someone’s faith and how it may make them act stuck with me. Also, the facade of the ‘stiff upper lip,’ but underneath, the vulnerability.

John Barth’s first novel, originally published in 1956 and later significantly revised, is a darkly comic philosophical novel whose main character, Todd Andrews, is contemplating suicide.

The novel, along with Barth’s second, The End of the Road, is written in a relatively realistic style, different from the metafictional turn that the author would later take in his subsequent fiction. Nevertheless, these two early books are in some ways consistent with later works like Giles Boat Boy and Lost in the Funhouse, particularly in the passages about metaphor in life and art.

Barth’s musings about metaphors in the real world are relevant to Wiseman’s ability to wrest metaphoric implications from real-world events and objects. Indeed, Wiseman’s films are a veritable floating opera of signifiers.

Adam is a limited edition robot who can pass for human (something I can’t do on a bad day). It takes a while for Adam to learn to be part of that world, but as time passes, he moves from being the slave of his owner Charlie to being better than him in every way (just ask his girlfriend!). I kept thinking of what would it be like to have a better version of me hanging around the house. It took slaves a long time to be recognized as people, how long for the robots?

Now we’re back in my most favorite place, San Francisco. Place is as much a character as the living, breathing people we meet in the pages of novels or non-fiction, and the author, Andrew Sean Greer, chose to tell a most curious tale in my hometown. We’re in San Francisco at the turn of the twentieth century where we meet a strange gnome-like man who ages backwards. He’s in love with a young lady who is normal in every way. With a nod to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Curious Life of Benjamin Button, here time is the great force that shifts reality and asks the age-old question, what does it mean to be a human being?