100 Books Like The Red Room

This is a book told from the point of view of Mother Rob and her daughter Callie.

It deals with topics of child psychopathy and innate evil and is beautifully written. I’m a huge fan of Catriona Ward’s and was torn between this book or The Last House On Needless Street but I really enjoyed the exploration of motherhood and childhood here and found myself rooting for the characters long after I turned the last page.

Like all of Ward’s books, Sundial has strong horror vibes and the world we are drawn into is full of lush descriptions but it is the characters that really stand out to me. This book also has some really good twists.

Of course, I’m including Gillian Flynn in this list. You may have expected her most popular novel, Gone Girl. I like that one, but this is my favorite of her works so far. In my opinion, it nudges out her other book, Sharper Objects (though that one is my wife’s favorite). I think it was her first book. It’s a dark story of a family with secrets, pain, and a moral decision that goes horribly wrong. Again, this one has a strong theme.

What if you could sacrifice everything to ensure your kids had a better life than you? Now, what if that sacrifice went horribly wrong and ruined not only your life but your kids as well? Flynn is a master of the thriller twist. She’s one of those authors who can lay out all the clues in plain sight for her readers without them even knowing it.… show more.

This story is told from the perspective of a serial killer's stepdaughter, Sophie, and I swallowed it in two sittings.

Matty Melgren, Sophie’s stepfather, is dying and wants to meet. He’s in prison and his imminent death takes Sophie right back to her childhood. The story is told from Sophie’s perspective as a twelve-year-old observing the breakdown of her mother and Matty’s relationship and as an adult debating how much she wants answers and what they might cost her.

I loved the dual timeline and thought it was a really fresh way to approach a serial killer novel. 

Based on the case of child killer Mary Bell this book is an unexpected page-turner and is written with so much heart. It’s dark, compulsive, and the prose sparkles.

This is another dual timeline book we follow Chrissie as a child living a hard life and eventually committing murder. We meet her again as an adult with a new identity and a daughter of her own. Nancy Tucker is a psychologist I believe and it certainly comes across.

The entire cast in this book is written with such tenderness and insight. A really difficult book dealing with a tough topic but also a story of redemption and understanding.

I will always find an excuse to read a classic literary tome about an unreliable narrator by the British seashore, partly because I know I’m in for a gut-punch of a landscape description. Even better when it’s garnished with a few—not too many, just enough—of those ultra-evocative lines that stop you in your tracks and make you go, “That’s exactly what that’s like!” But that’s not even the best part of this five-course meal of a book.

The story becomes increasingly surreal and disturbing. At each stage, Murdoch’s descriptions of the ocean landscape shift and change with the narrative, so the water increasingly looms in the background like a living character, apparently impersonal and even more deliciously horrible for it. 

I read this book when it first came out, and I loved it. The main character is an alcoholic and this is not even the first of her issues.

I love a flawed character and a story that has me glued to the pages. I loved the unexpected twists and an ending that felt, to me, like justice served.

Who would have thought a story set in London in 1975 could provide such enlightenment about the Spanish civil war that ended thirty-six years earlier? But it did, and that’s why I liked it.

An elderly Brit living in Cleaver Square is being haunted by the ghost of the dictator, El Caudillo, Francisco Franco. It sounds gruesome, but the mood is light, sometimes funny, and always informative. As I got more into the story, I understood the connections, and this unraveling of a secret was just the thing to keep me engaged. I thoroughly recommend it. 

The themes of regret and the unstable nature of memory stayed with me long after I had finished the book. A renowned expert on the Arabian Nights, Irwin weaves stories within stories, leaving the reader unsure about what is real and what is the product of a character’s imagination.

The unreliable narrator is a mildly successful but ultimately second-rate twentieth-century British painter who refers to a creative practice employed by the surrealists. The book took me on a wonderful journey through the artistic culture of London. Edith Sitwell, Salvador Dalí, and André Breton are just a few of the famous names who populate this surprising story. 

I was hooked by the unexpected opening sentence: "The first time I saw my granddaughters, I was standing across the street, didn't dare go any closer."

What had gone wrong? Why was a grandmother so estranged from her own grandchildren?

As the novel unspooled, it double-backed into other surprise twists, and the characters and motivations weren't as clear-cut as they'd seemed. Leah, the mother of the two granddaughters, wasn't being juvenile, impulsive, or heartless when she broke off contact with her parents. Yoella, the grandmother, wasn't as loving and innocent as she thinks she was—and how much does she realize, in fact?

I loved the way the book sometimes said more between the lines than in the actual words. 

This early American novel starts off with an episode of human spontaneous combustion, followed by repeated episodes of characters hearing disembodied voices.

Brown’s novel uses these Gothic devices and a couple of real-life murder cases to explore religious and political issues that preoccupied Americans in the years after the Revolution. How do we know whether we’re really being guided by reason? What is the basis of authority?

Most editions of Wieland include Brown’s prequel Memoirs of Carwin, which complicates the story by placing one of the main characters in an Illuminati-like organization. American Gothic literature pretty much starts here.