100 Books Like The Midnights

From the first chapter, as I read Charlie’s letter to a friend, I wished I could meet the man this teenager would become. The magic of this book is that it is related entirely through journal-like letters. Charlie writes with so much authenticity, curiosity, and vulnerability that I’m glad he has three friends who hold him with love as he faces his demons and comes of age.

I found the ways he makes sense of the world fascinating, humourous, and admirable, and at other times heartbreaking. I sincerely admire Charlie’s strength as he manages to sustain vulnerability and a constant rope of connection to himself, even though it gets very thin at times. 

I found it easy to sympathize with Ponyboy Curtis as a victim of circumstance. He’s poor and raised by someone other than his parents, just like I was. More than that, I loved how he doesn’t cling to any of the early illusions about himself, his family, the neighborhood gang, or even the rival gang from the West side. 

Instead, he tries to see things as they are. And even though this 14-year-old punk, who belongs to a “gang of greasers,” discovers how unfair life can be, he still takes it upon himself to give meaning to what is lost. There is something incredibly noble in seeing a smart, empathetic teen wrestling with loss and struggling to be his own person against all odds.

I was dying to read this book because I'd heard it was structured after Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata for violin and piano, and even though it's not a piece I'm intimately familiar with I could almost hear the music as I read. Even though it's billed as a love story, it's not so much a typical romance as it is an ode to following your passions, listening to your heart, and falling in love with New York City...for the first time, or all over again. As a longtime New Yorker I found myself rediscovering the city through Dominique's eyes, and I even learned some cool NYC facts I'd never heard before (not going to spoil anything, but I listen to the subway in a whole new way now)! Highly recommended for anyone who loves music, New York, or lyrical writing about flawed but shimmering characters.

Noteworthy is a pitch-perfect novel set in the elite a capella group of a selective performing arts boarding school. Undistinguished Alto 2 Jordan Sun disguises herself as a guy to land a spot in the all-male Sharpshooters a capella group, only to realize she has to keep up the act for the remainder of her Junior and Senior years. Hijinks ensue as Jordan finds herself questioning her identity, her sexuality, and her place in the world. The writing in this book is crisp and funny, and I enjoyed learning a bit about how a capella works. Most of all, I enjoyed watching Jordan become more sure of herself even as her ruse starts to wear thin. This is a light-hearted read with some heavier discussions of race, class, gender, and sexuality deftly woven throughout. If you like voice-driven music books as much as I do, add Noteworthy to your list. 

I loved the message of this book of self-love and finding your own way to shine. Elise says, “I was born to be unpopular. There was no other way it could have gone.” I think that unfortunately, a lot of teens feel this way, but that doesn’t mean that life is over.

It doesn’t mean that high school will last forever, although it may feel that way at times. I think depressed teens who read this may not totally identify with Elise’s way of finding her own better life, but they will be left with the idea that there is hope. 

I’ve covered rock, classical, a capella, and new wave in my list, so I thought I’d round it out with sugar-sweet pop. Kill the Boy Band is a darkly hilarious journey into fangirl obsession filled with quirky characters and sitcom situations that are as fun to read as they are improbable. The boy band in question is The Ruperts, a quartet of British heart-throbs with an eerie resemblance to One Direction. When four superfans score a room in the hotel where The Ruperts are staying, they hatch a plan that goes awry fast, leaving the band with one fewer Ruperts and the girls with a…very incriminating situation.

I loved this book for so many reasons, but my favorite was the deep dive into superfan culture. A lot of the book is spent questioning the nature of this culture, but in a way that's genuinely soul-searching and not condescending—the narrator… show more.

The mantra for this novel could be that the effort matters more than anything—the attempt, the trying. Winning is something, but it’s not everything. Brooks, a high-school dropout, has to find his way in a world where his closest friend is dying from drug addiction, his household is broken, and street thugs are after him. Against all odds, if you love something and want it, the pursuit of that dream can help those who chase it with enough intensity to possibly overcome the hardship. When so many boxing stories are written with utter bleakness, there is light here.

The novel Sold Out is a favorite book of mine because Carlson’s main female character, Chloe Miller, forms her own band while struggling early on until they become a hit in their community. Success, however, brings them problems of finding out who their real friends are. Even when the band is discovered by a talent scout from Nashville, conflicts erupt amongst the band members and attitudes start clashing, and Chloe’s dream is falling apart. However, she refuses to give up, and she finds the strength through God and prayer to make the decisions necessary to be proud of her accomplishments. 

While adults are sometimes accused of forgetting what it feels like to be young, that cannot be said of Edith Hemingway, who so vividly captures the grief of 11-year-old Annie in Road to Tater Hill.

While Annie’s dad is across the ocean serving in the Air Force, Annie’s day-old baby sister dies, leaving her mother distant and depressed. Annie, who spends the summer at her grandparents’ mountain home, finds an unexpected friendship to be part of her journey to healing.

It’s a powerful book with vivid scenes that have stayed with me years after reading it.

I’ve wanted a book like Can Anyone Tell Me?—a practical guide to understanding what’s really happening when we’re thrust into grief—since my son’s death at age 20, more than 26 years ago.

In plain, easy-to-digest language with a smattering of humor, Jarvis tackles questions like Why can’t I remember anything? Why can’t I sleep? Why do I suddenly dislike my friends? She explains the neuroscience behind what we’re experiencing and provides brief case studies, advice for grievers, and—what I’ve found missing in so many books—advice for those who want to support them.

I recommend this book to those new to grief, those whose loss is long past, and anyone who loves someone who’s grieving—which, in the end, is nearly all of us.