Books like Trombone — picked by fans

This remains one of the most haunting novels I have ever read. I cannot shake the character of Judge Holden, a formidable man both physically and intellectually, who deploys his insidious intellect to justify acts of abject violence seemingly only for the sake of violence itself. I was mesmerized by a world where “all covenants were brittle.” This was no straight-up Western as I had expected. It was something more.

McCarthy pushed the boundaries of the classic Western by challenging the notion that good will ultimately overcome evil and the hero will save the day. There was no hero here, and the day was truly lost to forces beyond the characters’ control, hallmarks of the Southern Gothic tradition. I was hooked on this curious blend of genres!

For years, I refused to re-embrace Holden Caulfield, because Mark David Chapman, John Lennon’s assassin, declared it inspired him to bloodshed. I’m glad I did, getting the juices circulating for my novel.

Holden, manic-depressed over his brother’s death, cut loose from his prep school, may speak in a stream-of-consciousness babble, but he enunciated an old-soul contempt of Ivy-League elitism that reverberates today.

When Holden declares, “The more expensive a school, the more crooks it has,” it’s a literary MRI on American classism still tearing us asunder.

Mickelson’s Ghosts was the final book of famous novelist and equally famous writing teacher John Gardner, published a few months before his death in a motorcycle accident at the too-young age of 49. It tells the story of Peter Mickelson, a once-famous philosopher nearing the end of his career, and finding himself buying a run-down house he can't afford with his ex-wife and the I.R.S. breathing down his neck. Soon the rationalist philosopher finds himself living in a world of bad decisions, sex, hauntings and ghosts, and religious cults—a world where rationalism can’t save him from his own creeping madness and mortality. 

West Virginia’s Jayne Anne Phillips made a noisy arrival on the literary scene with her triumphant collection of short stories, Black Tickets. One of the first of the “dirty realists,” Phillips paints the backroads and forgotten lives of rural West Virginia during a time when that state, and many like it, were on no one’s radar. As one of her characters says, “This ain’t the South…this is the goddam past.” Phillips captures the loneliness and the disconnected lives of young women and men in a way few books have done.  

This book had me itching to pick up an instrument again!

Not only is Scout incredibly funny, but it feels like it really understands the magic of music programs in school and why the arts are so important for everyone, especially kids! I wish I had this book growing up, it makes music and reading feel larger than life! 

Bryan Collier’s watercolor and collage illustrations are amazing. They are warm and joyful, just like Troy Andrews’s story.

In the book, Andrews, aka “Trombone Shorty,” recalls growing up in the Tremé neighborhood of New Orleans. He remembers playing non-stop a broken trombone he found on the street and eventually—as a young kid—getting to play on stage with the legendary Bo Diddley at the city’s Jazz Festival. This is an inspiring story and a visual delight. 

I read a lot of biographies but this one stands head and shoulders above the rest. Told with a novelist’s eye, Hastings gives a compelling account of a remarkable man, his achievements, and his tragic, utterly disgraceful end.

Travel with Montrose and his band of ill-equipped Irishmen over the Grampians in the dead of winter—it’s a journey one doesn’t forget.

I love this graphic novel, with its muted, earthy colours. Hamal, the gardener, can see ghosts. At the time the story starts he seems to have found his feet, but he talks about his depression as a teen, which is one of the reasons why I think it can be included here; that sort of thing is never entirely left behind. Another is the emotions of the ghosts he encounters and tries to help; a lot of what the ghosts are experiencing, even apparently-cheerful Blue, who is in love with Hamal, can be read as akin to the lost greyness of various degrees of depression. It's a gentle, thoughtful story, well-told with lots of humour, and it has lovely art. 

A thinly veiled discussion about depression, The Girl on the Red Pillow does something I never thought possible: make depression humorous and interesting. Well...it doesn't actually make depression humorous but allows for humor to exist in a story about the topic.

From the first moment you get to meet the wall building dwarf, to the final moment when Annalee finally comes to terms with her depression and looks toward the future, you will be urged forward as you hope Annalee finds the answer to her troubles, especially if you're someone who has dealt with their own wall-building dwarf.

This book is a beautiful, inspiring weaving tale of a psychiatrist who has recurrent depression and has worked with people with depression. She doesn’t disguise how hard depression is, she doesn’t patronise, she explains depression from her personal point of view, explores what happened in her childhood, and explains a clinician’s point of view of depression. 

It’s embedded with bucket loads of empathy, compassion, and hope. You hear about the patients she’s helped and you come out feeling humbled and grateful for her telling her story. Very useful for professionals working in psychiatry and mental health but equally useful for those of us with this terrible illness.