7 Books Like Trinity Fields

"Love" is not the right word to describe reading Hiroshima. It's a painful book to read. It's short--originally published in The New Yorker in 1946, and it's important. Before this book, no one really knew about how the atomic bomb affected the people of Hiroshima, and how devastating it was. I read this book because I started reading Fallout by Lesley Blume, about how John Hersey revealed to the world what had happened, and thought I should read Hersey's book first. I was also reading Bradford Morrow's novel Trinity Fields, and stopped that, too, until I read both Hersey and Blume. Hiroshima is a book everyone should read, just as Auschwitz is a place everyone should visit. A tough read and a tough visit, but they're subjects that should never be forgotten.

When a book brings you to read another book, it's appreciated. Lesley Blume came to interview me about another project she's investigating, and she gave me her book Fallout. I started reading it the next day and after a few chapters, I thought I should stop and read Hiroshima by John Hersey--a book I should have read years ago. Once I finished Hersey's book, I could appreciate Blume's book all the more. She's a wonderful writer, and she has told an important story about one of the most shocking cover-ups of the 20th century.

This passionate paranormal romance between a talented soprano singer and a macabre musical genius blends mythical aspects of a legendary ghost haunting the Paris Opera House. I was enthralled by the supernatural forces and deliciously dark seduction of Christine Daaé by the unlikely Romantic hero, the Phantom. I enjoyed how the chivalrous Raoul, le Vicomte de Chagny, nobly battles the diabolical Phantom like a medieval knight defending his Lady. I read this classic in its original French language version while obtaining my MA in French literature, and I loved both the English translation as well as the modern musical film adaptation.

The richness and accuracy of the historical backgrounds add to the story and the fully developed characters, which left me sometimes angry, sometimes content, sometimes sad, sometimes happy.

I felt that often, Morrow’s characters were hiding something. There were subplots that tantalized me and took me down new avenues, but Morrow always brought them back to the primary plot. And, of course, the beautiful prose. 

Finally, the complexity of the subplots, as Morrow weaved them into a coherent whole, left me humbled but also inspired to move from the “temporal linearity” of my own books to something more complex.

In July of 1980, a beautiful violinist disappeared during a 45-minute break while the visiting ballet company used a prerecorded piece. Helen Hagnes Mintiks was a Julliard grad who had played with professionals since her teens. After the evening’s performance ended, her colleagues knew—as any musician would—that Helen would never have left the building without her violin. It took another nine hours to find her body, thrown down a ventilation shaft, hands tied with knots that stagehands used. A witness led them to the killer, who promptly confessed—a real villain, robbing the world of a kind-hearted talent out of lust. I read this book probably 30 years ago, while I was reading my way through the entire true crime section of the Cleveland Public Library. 

Lucille Kallen was an amazing TV writer but only wrote five of her cozy mysteries starring small-town, middle-aged reporter Maggie Rome who served as an Archie Goodwin for her cerebral boss, editor C. B. Greenfield. They were all witty and fun, but this one centers around the very real Boston Symphony Orchestra and their summer rehearsal space, Tanglewood music center near the MA-NY border. Expansive hills, the petty rivalries of professionals, and a not-often-used method of murder make this book a must for any mystery lover. Plus, the author was clearly as adoring of Ravel as I am, which is why this slim volume still has a place on my bookshelf after 30-plus years. 

A greatly entertaining book about the myriad scandals of Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis, crimes and murder among Norway’s black metal bands, how Sam Cooke wound up shot to death in a low-budget motel, and Gram Parsons’ death at 26, among others, written by the guy with a podcast of the same name. I’ve played and listened to music my entire life but have never really studied the topic or its practitioners, so much of this came as a fascinating surprise. Brennan does veer into fiction—at one point he relates a conversation between two dead people after they’re dead—but still a very interesting compilation.