100 Books Like The Reivers

With biting satire and elegiac prose, Main Street is the paragon of stories set in small towns.

Author Sinclair Lewis was obviously not enamored of small towns, and like Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio, is perhaps exorcising some demons from his own upbringing. Nevertheless, perhaps unable to help himself, he instills his protagonist, Carol Milford (Kennicott) with a “Never give up” small town value. At the end she is undaunted. Even though she’s been stifled at nearly every turn, in her own words she has “kept the faith.”

I love the work of Sinclair Lewis. I based the character of July Huffaker in Delphic Oracle, U.S.A. on Elmer Gantry, and when I taught in medical schools, kept copies of Arrowsmith in my office that I gave to students and residents interested in a career in academic medicine. “Read this,” I told them. “If you still want in, come talk to… show more.

Another book that uses humor to get at the truth of things, in this case a dark truth that author Mimi Herman expertly negotiates. Plus, The Kudzu Queen has characters with great names (Mattie Lee Watson, James T. Cullowee).

I love characters with odd names, probably hearkening back to a childhood love of O. Henry, Charles Dickens, and Mark Twain. Best of all, the bad guy gets his comeuppance in this book.

That’s one of the best things about writing fiction. You can make villains drown in their villainy. It beats reading the newspaper where the villains get page one attention, while the golden retrievers who save babies are on page six.

It is laugh-out-loud funny in places, but the humor also sees the pettiness, pride, and obstinance that can affect human behavior.

Pearson’s narrator is cloaked in childhood innocence that makes his incisive observations not cruel, but simply honest. After I first read this book many years ago, I decided that I would never again make my readers feel wretched nor would I cheat them. Like Pearson, I will, however, trick them.

Regent’s of Paris takes place in a struggling small town automobile dealership during the week preceding a Memorial Day sale.

It’s Glengarry Glen Ross without shoving the reader into a tar pit of despair. I like books that don’t make readers need a shower and antidepressants at the end, at the same time addressing uncomfortable truths. This one delivers with a measure of cynicism.

There’s cynicism in my own work too. I view a cynic as a blend of idealism and sentiment: idealistic enough to see the world as it should be and sentimental enough to recall the exact moment of his/her/their disillusionment.

This book takes a comic yet piercing look at espionage. 

Jim Wormold, a vacuum-cleaner salesman in pre-revolutionary Cuba, is recruited by MI6 out of desperation and fabricates his spy reports. He invents agents, sketches of weaponized vacuum parts, and absurd clandestine plots—all to keep the money coming and satisfy his daughter’s extravagances.

What makes the novel shine is its satire of the spy apparatus—how credulity, vanity, and bureaucratic inertia turn fiction into danger. Greene balances light humor with real human stakes: financial strain, moral compromise, a man pretending to be something he is not. Even decades after its writing, Our Man in Havana remains sharp, funny, and deeply relevant in its critique of power, truth, and illusion.

This is both your main course and palate cleanser. Absolutely riveting!

If Hunter S. Thompson’s work is writing as rock ’n roll, early Mark Leyner is writing as thrash metal.

And like most practitioners of thrash, he mellowed out and slowed down as he got older. But his early shit? Look out! Faster than a bullet and harder than algebra. Whopping great gobs of language, slanguage, lexicon, and terminology gush up off the page.

Not only are there no brakes, there are seemingly no limits at all, his mind doesn’t wander, it careens and chugs and screeches and free falls… and if you follow you’ll be rewarded: with laughter, shock, awe, poignancy, and something akin to a deep, ecstatic numbness. Leyner’s words sharpen the senses and push the brain into the red, just like thrash metal does. 

I love to read this as the school year is beginning. Children can identify with feeling different on the first day of school.

I love how Penelope (the main character who happens to be a T Rex) is blithely oblivious to the impact she has on the students around her. The tables are turned when she crosses paths with a hungry goldfish. 

What if elevator inspectors had their own influential guild? Not science fiction, not fantasy, and not even alternative history. Just a riveting, delightful, challenging ‘what if’ that does not fit in a box. In a shaft. In a skyscraper. When I first heard about this book, I thought elevator inspection might be, let’s say, resistant to novel-sized interrogation.

To this, I now say, behold the umbrella that fits in the purse or the king-sized mattress that arrives in a toddler-sized box. This book unfolds and puffs up deliberately and warmly, and eventually, you find yourself curled up, reading about the very nature of thought. In a person. In a society. You don’t want to turn out the light and stop. 

We all know Numeroff’s “IF” books. I love them all, but I picked the Moose book because the moose scares himself by shouting, “BOO!” But all of them have a similar message.

Whether neurodiverse or neurotypical, we are all familiar with the feeling of starting one task, which leads to another, which leads to another…etc. I remember reading this book to my kids when they were young and how it captured how I felt as an overwhelmed mom (not to mention one with undiagnosed ADHD).

Interestingly, it was written over 30 years ago during a time when ADHD wasn’t as easily diagnosed. In a way, this speaks to the ever-presence of neurodiversity, whether specifically recognized or not. 

Shrek! was a book before it was ever a wildly successful film franchise, but the book bears almost no resemblance to the movies.

Yes, William Steig’s ogre is both vile and reviled, and he has a donkey for a friend, but the story itself is very straightforward, detailing Shrek’s rampage across the countryside on his way to meet a “stunningly ugly princess” with whom he can live “horribly ever after.”

Steig had been a celebrated New Yorker cartoonist for almost four decades when he produced his first children’s book in 1968. He wrote and drew Shrek! when he was in his early 80s. He breaks the cardinal rule of using simple language, but makes up for it with fun-to-read-aloud choices in vocabulary and sentence structure, such as “The irascible dragon was preparing to separate Shrek from his noggin.”