73 Books Like The Wife, the Maid, and the Mistress

I don’t often read nonfiction, but Kate Summerscale’s meticulously researched book, with all the gritty details about a Victorian-era matricide, reads like a suspenseful novel.

The discussions of views about insanity, criminality, penny dreadfuls (or penny bloodies as some called them), and treatment of criminals and the insane at the time absolutely fascinated me. Summerscale follows Robert Coombes, who was only 13 when the crime was committed, from his childhood into adulthood.

I found this book a completely edifying experience—by the end of the story, I felt like I knew Robert, even if I couldn’t understand his crime.

I love all of Sarah Waters’ works, but Fingersmith ranks among my most obsessively adored books of all time. I find it a near-perfect interweaving of meticulously researched historical fiction—penned with Dickensian flair and grace—and compulsively page-turning thriller, marked by brilliant and utterly unforeseeable plot twists that will leave you slack-jawed.

It somehow manages to be wickedly funny, poignantly tragic, powerfully feminist, and gratifyingly steamy all at once. I also loved the Korean film adaptation of it, The Handmaiden, which not only embraces Fingersmith’s anti-patriarchal themes but ingeniously weaves anti-colonialist elements into the by setting it in Japan-occupied Korea in the 1930s.  

Maybe it’s because of my working-class roots, but Mary Saunders, an obscure but very real historical figure, is the sort of woman I wanted to root for. After all, it takes initiative, ingenuity, and not a small dose of impetuosity to rise from a lower-class schoolgirl to, well, some higher station. I was saddened to see how Mary’s yearnings to free herself from the shackles of her class forced her into prostitution at a young age. But when she made a dangerous misstep that set her on the run and landed her a position of a household seamstress, I couldn’t help but fear the worst for her. I was glued to the page in Emma Donoghue’s rich and provocative tale of this young girl’s quest for a better life.

This novel created a stir when it first came out in 2010; it seemed everyone was talking about it. After I read it, I had to agree it was worth the buzz. In 1909, Ralph Truitt, a successful businessman in rural Wisconsin, places a notice in a Chicago paper advertising for "a reliable wife." But when Catherine Land steps off the train from Chicago, she's not the "simple, honest woman" that Ralph is expecting. She is both complex and devious, haunted by a terrible past and motivated by greed. She plans to win his devotion, poison him, and leave a wealthy widow. But Truitt has his own secrets and plans, and soon they’re both in over their heads. I love novels like this that take me on an unexpected journey.

Jane Eyre but she’s a serial killer? That’s a must-read book for me. And this one lives up to its creative premise. Like her namesake, this Jane lives in Victorian England, but she takes a decidedly more direct approach to dealing with her oppressors.

As the body count rises, so do her qualms. I enjoyed the parallels of this romp to the original, including the inevitable love story, and appreciated the unexpected twists and turns. With many retellings, it’s easy to guess how the plot will unfold—not so with this dagger of a book. 

I love an atmospheric read, and this one is Gothic and foreboding.

It’s 1889 Liverpool, and Constance Sullivan has been accused of murdering her husband, a chronic consumer of arsenic. At the time, arsenic was thought to have many health benefits.

Mitchell’s novel kicks off with the arrest of Constance and then unfolds into a back-and-forth narrative about their marriage and her trial. I wondered at every turn how Constance could be guilty. Even though she claims she’s innocent, I couldn’t see how she could possibly overcome all the testimony against her.

I was drawn in from the first page and could hardly put the book down.

Everyone knows how the story of Bonnie and Clyde ends, but I loved how this novel delved into Bonnie’s background and life both before and after she met Clyde.

Bonnie grew up in a chaotic home, and when she met Clyde her whole life changed. She was so smitten with the charming Clyde that she just wanted to be with him—and that included tagging along on robberies and other ill-fated capers.

This novel doesn’t romanticize Bonnie and Clyde. It left me reflecting on the differences between male and female criminals—and the reasons they resort to crime.

I enjoy stories about unsolved crimes, and Emma Donoghue starts with a murder in 1876 San Francisco and builds a story around a character trying to solve the crime.

The main characters, Burlesque dancer Blanche and frog catcher Jenny, quickly drew me into the story. When Jenny is murdered, Blanche believes she knows who murdered Jenny—and thinks she is responsible. I loved how Donoghue captured the rough and gritty San Francisco of the times.

I’m a great fan of author’s notes at the end of historical novels, and Donoghue’s lengthy afterword reveals much about what parts of the novel are based on fact and which imagined—and how she went about researching the story.

The Show Girl is a delicious and entertaining exploration of the life of a 1920s Ziegfield girl with authentic period details and Harrison’s trademark ability to plunge the reader deep into the experiences of her characters. I loved being along for the ride as Olive navigated her relationships and friendships, followed her dreams, and pursued the glamorous life—with all its attendant ups and downs—of a show girl. The Show Girl is a fast-paced and engaging read that will leave readers giving a standing ovation to Olive and to all women who choose to live life on their own terms.

I can still remember so much from this book. A great stat Hawes included was that in the year 1870, 90 percent of upper-class New Yorkers lived in townhouses or other types of single-family homes. By 1930, 90 percent lived in apartment buildings or “French flats,” as they were sometimes called. Basically, almost alone among American cities, New York chose to emulate Paris in its model of urbanism rather than London.

New York developers built and sold “French flats” that were large and ostentatious, like the Ansonia and the Dakota, which are still there today. These iconic apartment buildings were built along the streetcar and subway lines. Hawes was a writer for The New Yorker, so this is very readable.