Books like The Rap Year Book — picked by fans

The gold standard of rock and roll oral histories. Two authors, years and years in the making, chronicling one of music's most incendiary eras. "Will you die for the music?" Lou Reed asks in the early pages. In other words, how many knife fights, sleepless nights, and dead friends would it take to stop you from chasing artistic salvation?

Reading this book while I wrote my own made me realize just how sterilized my scene (like much of America) had gotten by the turn of the millennium. Third-wave emo wasn't famously dangerous or gritty, but many of its icons grappled with life-threatening addiction and mental health issues (even more than I expected going in). Yet, thankfully, almost all of those band members are still with us. Please Kill Me illuminated this. It's no accident the final word in my book is "survive."

This book gave me a drive. Goodman’s account of the Strokes’ debaucherous rise in 9/11-era New York City ignited my passion for oral history and to tell the story of the music that made me. Downtown cool kid garage rock shaped popular culture immensely, but so did My Chemical Romance and their cohort (even more so, I’d argue). Up to this point (MMITB was published in 2017), 2000s emo was frequently misconstrued by those too old to have understood its impact or left out of the conversation entirely.

As I conducted interviews for my book, I challenged my own hypotheses (and personal biases) about these two scenes. I learned they intermingled more than I thought. I talked to Fall Out Boy’s Pete Wentz about DJing the ultra-hip downtown party Misshapes and My Chemical Romance’s Mikey Way about trying to catch a glimpse of Madonna at the same place.

Like nothing I'd ever read before. An incredible fusing of the familiar and the fantastic. Much of it takes place in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, during the 2010s, on the same subways and sidewalks I frequented. I interviewed author Geoff Rickly extensively for my book, as his band Thursday is central to its plot. I thought I knew Geoff's story pretty well. Turns out, I had no idea.

This book is surrealist, and it's autofiction. I could tell you how great it is by stressing you don't need to know anything about Geoff or his band to be spellbound by it. But I think the best praise I could give is how it made me consider all the extraordinary things that are happening around me all the time

John Lurie makes me think of what it means to be an artist. It’s funny, though, because after watching three seasons of his TV show, I still wasn’t entirely sure who John Lurie was or why he had an HBO series.

Painting With John is hosted by a 60-something Lurie living in the Caribbean, slowed by chronic illness, musing on past misadventures with New York City icons like Basquiat and Bourdain while getting lost in his dreamlike paintings. Lurie's 2021 memoir fleshes out his story just enough: jazz saxophonist turned reluctant art house film star who side-stepped significant fame and money by unfortunate events and steadfastly chose creativity over compromise.

On the page, Lurie’s telling of these events is mystifying. I’m looking forward to a life of creativity with his voice in my head.

To be perfectly honest, the title is the best part of this book. None of the text is quite as funny as the concept, but the concept is worth the price of admission.

You can keep your A is for Apple and B is for Ball. I’ll take K is for Knight and D is for Djibouti.

It’s not likely that a toddler is going to need to spell “phlegm” any time soon, but it’s a fun read for the adult — and the grown-ups also need to be entertained by a book that’s going to be aloud 100 times. 

The most famous chapter of the renowned book on New York history, Robert Caro’s The Power Broker, outlines how the Cross-Bronx Expressway gutted once thriving Bronx neighborhoods. Can’t Stop Won’t Stop shows how the global cultural phenomenon of hip-hop arose in the same borough two decades later.

Chang takes readers through public housing recreation rooms, South Bronx streets, and elevated subway lines where a group of musicians, visual artists, and dancers changed world culture. I especially love how the book illuminates how a specific place and time period made possible the development of this now ubiquitous artistic genre.

Middle school gets a bad rap.

It’s synonymous with petty gossip and nervous insecurity—a time that many adults would rather forget. But as author Chris Balme shows, middle school can also be magical. By taking us into the adolescent brain, Finding the Magic in Middle School helps parents and teachers understand the challenges—and the potential—unique to these oft-maligned years.

I love that Jarrett Andrew has raised the revision process (which often gets a bad rap) to a spiritual level. This book will help any writer see their work anew and tap into the joy—yes joy!—of revision.

This book encourages writers to listen deeply to their own stories and dig deep until they have found their true beating hearts. Jarrett Andrew presents big-picture and craft revision strategies that will make this a trusted companion for any writer. 

One of the rare books I have found close to my heart, Jonas Samuelle’s book is poetic, melancholic, but an amazing read. His stories resonate the type of flow I find with Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Jonas Samuelle has an amazing flow with his story, and you can feel the emotion of each character. It is a book I still truly treasure to this day. 

Escape often gets a bad rap—staying and fighting or enduring your circumstances are seen as more noble—but there are times when choosing to leave a demoralizing, unhealthy environment to make a fresh start is what you need to do to save your soul. In this book, a woman tries to disappear—and finds herself. If you appreciate books where unassuming sentences land like devastating little bombs, read this.