Books like The Patrick Melrose Novels — picked by fans

Take a first-class literary talent who’s a master of language with a soul as dark as Dostoyevsky’s and lock him in a room with the New York Giants on the television and a well-stocked bar—that’s one way of describing this monster book about deep, obsessive fandom.

It’s not just a great sports book—it’s great, period, if disturbing as hell. Like all monster talents, Exley is ultimately almost pitied for what the gods and his Giants put him through.

This book was an integral resource when I began to write my book. It helped me shape the structure of my book.

F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “If you have anything to say, anything you feel nobody has ever said before, you have got to feel it so desperately that you will find some way to say it that nobody has ever found before, so that the thing you have to say and the way of saying it blend as one matter—as indissolubly as if they were conceived together.”

This, and other books I've read, did this. My favorite books of all time have inventive structures. And reading these helped me find mine.

For me, what drives this book is perspective, the crazy, intense story of a deeply dysfunctional family as seen through the eyes of a child, and the title refers to a bar her father frequents, often accompanied, inappropriately, by his young daughter.

From the quality of the writing to the vividness of the characters and the nutty outrageousness of the family, this is simply one of the best memoirs I have read. Definitely a book I will read a second time, when I get a chance. 

The horror and the humor! This book reminded me of just how absurd the life of an addict is. I found myself laughing out loud at unexpected turns. Of course, we’re talking very dark humor.

The story of his obsession with Candy also reminded me of my own doomed love affairs, the sick love that often mingles with addiction. I’ll never forget the story of his cats, though. Davies’ observations on the behavior of his cats are as compelling (and horrible) as his observations of the behavior of addicts.

All addiction stories are sad in their own way, but as comic John Mulaney has shown, they can also be hysterically funny. And Candy proves it. 

Because it’s twisted, tragic, and hilarious.

This book is written from the point of view of a high-class Brit with alcohol and drug addiction problems who has made a complete, disastrous mess of his life. He reveals the familial dysfunction that has led him to his present state in such an offhand, almost careless way that he somehow manages to make a childhood that includes being sexually abused by his father, as well as other horrors, humorous.

His narrative voice felt to me like a 21st-century version of Kingsley Amis. Somehow, as he takes you on his journey of awful and self-defeating choices, you still want him to solve his problems, escape disaster, and become at least somewhat whole and functional, but alas, you know he won’t. And, for some reason, it’s okay. 

I can not praise Edward St Aubyn highly enough. He is one of my favourite authors; I love his writing because it is heart-stoppingly true and affecting.

He portrays dysfunctional family dynamics with blistering accuracy, and I felt less alone reading this because I have been haunted by my own ancestral patterns repeating themselves through generations. I not only find St Aubyn laugh-out-loud funny, but he is also a brilliant observer of social mores.

Somehow, this book manages to be anti-spiritual while being one of the most spiritually aware books I have read. I love that St Aubyn does not try to make himself likable as a writer. There’s a ruthless fearlessness to his truth that I admire, which adds to his humanity.  

This is another book I came to via teaching; looking for new ecofictions, I put out a call on twitter and this title kept being mentioned by people I trust. When I read it, I was blown away by Hunter’s slim, powerful novel.

With the South of England underwater, Britons are forced to flee north to displacement camps, suddenly finding themselves fighting in supermarkets for supplies and walking the roads with their children.

I first read it for its depiction of eco-catastrophe and refugee crisis and its fascinating echoes of the fuel and food shortages of the pandemic. But as I reread it each year, I more insistently see it as a book depicting new motherhood as a crashing, overwhelming flood from which one emerges perhaps a year later, a haunted, dazed survivor.

David Thomson can outmatch any film critic I know for sheer pungent accuracy, as well as passion. He knows every director, every actor, every movie, and he always has something valuable—and often something essential—to say about each one. Thomson’s New Biographical Dictionary of Film, now in its sixth edition, is a continuous delight, a perfect book for browsing. A required purchase for every film buff.

A fictionalized version of the author's harrowing autobiography, this series of short, consecutive novels is a compelling and intensely moving story of trauma and recovery. We are shown how childhood sexual abuse and emotional neglect is a murder of the child's soul, how it can lead to addiction and self-loathing, and how recovery becomes a matter of choosing life over death.

The author gives us relentless honesty, focused prose, acute insight, and sharp, wickedly incisive wit. Slowly, steadily, Melrose heals and grows, understanding more and feeling more. I couldn't turn the pages fast enough. In some of the most beautiful writing I've ever read, St. Aubyn describes the essence of healing from trauma: the experience of deeply felt, overwhelming compassion and empathy.

I defy any historical fiction reader or detective fiction reader not to love this book as much as I did. It is a classic of the genre: a book that has everything. From the class system to the family superstition, the role of the servants, the treatment of the convicts, and the spooky location, it cannot be faulted. 

I was in the fortunate position of having read the book before I saw any of the films, for I have not seen one that accurately captures the atmosphere. Conan Doyle dabbled with the dark side of superstition in his life, and that interest comes across strongly.