Books like Tishomingo Blues — picked by fans

No list of mine would be complete without a Graham Greene novel on it.

My favourite author, the one I return to time and again. I reread this novel while I was writing my book, and it had lost none of its power or, indeed, glory since the last time I read it.

The story of a whisky priest on the run in the anti-Catholic purges in South America, it’s about faith, hope, self-worth, and fear. And redemption? Maybe. Maybe not. No one writes tortured souls like Greene. No one makes you care for them more.

This is the novel, more than any other, that inspired me to write my book.

It’s the story of Pale Fire, the final poem of the murdered American poet John Shade. It’s put into an anthology, and his editor, Charles Kinbolt, is asked to provide a preface, commentary, and notes. As these notes get wildly out of hand, another narrative starts to emerge. Did Kinbolt murder Shade? And was he using Pale Fire to identify his murderer? A great book.

Nabokov is a modernist master, and in no way can I compete with him, so I didn’t try. But it’s kind of the first metathriller and should be read by anyone with an interest in great writing.

I’ve chosen this because it was the first of the Slough House books I read. I soon remedied that, of course.

Mick Herron is a modern master of the spy novel. He showed me how to drag it into the present day and make it as relevant as the headlines while also creating characters you care about, losing nothing of thrilling plotting, and being sometimes laugh-out-loud funny.

This was in there at the back of my mind when I started my book. Yes, a modern spy novel can be done without the old cliches and baggage.

Or The Disappearance, as it was renamed to coincide with the Donald Sutherland film of the same name.

It’s the story of a hitman whose wife has disappeared while he’s given a new assignment. Instead of going after his target, he tries to find his wife. It’s a study of a man beyond cynicism, beyond despair, almost. Marlowe, who also wrote the brilliant A Dandy in Aspic.

I often think it’s my duty to keep the memories of forgotten writers alive because I’ll be there one day. An ex-agent of mine told me she thought I wouldn’t be famous until my breaks were rediscovered about a hundred years in the future. Which is nice, I suppose, but I can’t take that to the bank and ask for a mortgage with it.

I love the nonfiction book because Phil Hudgins tells the story of Billy Sunday Birt, who killed more than fifty people in the 1970s in Georgia before his arrest. I was intrigued by the honesty of Birt’s widow as she told of the fear she lived with as the true character of her husband unfolded and why she stayed with him because of the threats of what would happen if she tried to leave. I was also interested in how she tried to keep her faith in God as she learned more and more about the killings.

I love the book because Hudgins shows Birt's gradual dehumanization until a spiritual awakening in prison brings him to a recognition of the pain he has caused others. However, the awakening does not bring about the happy ending people might expect of such a story. 

How and when did all this start? Historian Thomas Sugrue shows that the peak of industrial employment in cities such as Detroit, the focus of this book, occurred in the 1940s. Then as hundreds of thousands of industrial jobs were lost in Detroit (and millions elsewhere in the US), the position of the urban working class deteriorated. This decline was an important source of the “urban crisis” that started in the 1960s.

Perhaps from the outside Detroit might look like a humorless place. A native of the city, Foley shows us just how untrue that is. Boys follows three Black gay millennial men looking for love, friendship, and professional success in the Motor City, with a narrative both hilarious and touching.

Published by Belt Publishing, a relatively new publisher focusing on the Rust Belt, Boys gives readers an inside view of the city and Black culture that can be radically different from the ones often portrayed in the media. This book can take you to a world much more beautiful and strange.

A powerful, riveting, and unputdownable tale of three women from different eras (Civil War to present) that frames the issue of race relations within the context of family relationships, making the subject immensely relatable and deeply touching. Bartels spins this masterful tale with a deft touch and a caring heart to create a stunning debut. Because the characters were so vivid and the emotions so real, this book opened my eyes in new ways to an issue that remains a hot button in today’s society.

I have a soft spot for books about writers, the journey to becoming one, and the creative life in general. This book surprised me and delighted my writerly heart, especially when protagonist Dani decides to write letters to her favorite Black women writers about a secret she’s afraid to share with her family. When a DJ friend dares her to fall in love with him in just three days, this gritty, urban, and heart-rending story unexpectedly takes on a rom-com energy that just works. 

As a social-emotional learning researcher, I was also wowed by how this writing/music/personal trauma narrative explores various forms of love: platonic, familial, romantic, and self-love. 

I love that Laurie’s main character in her Psychic Eye series is a modern-day psychic and solves a mystery. I love a good psychic theme where Abby Cooper has an office where she books readings, solves mysteries, and has a serious love interest. Laurie has a website with links to a podcast where she and her sister discuss current murder cases. I might even book a reading with her.