Here are 100 books that Turn, Magic Wheel fans have personally recommended if you like
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Maybe because I’m a novelist, I’ve always loved reading novels about writers—it’s a joy to see my passionate relationship with my own work reflected in these fictional solitary obsessives, my literary siblings. Reading about their own writing gives me a sense of recognition, community, and solidarity, and makes me feel less alone in this odd vocation, which is no small thing. I can’t get enough fictional evocations of the daily discipline of the writer’s life—as well as the trajectory of a literary career—from adolescence (Jo March) to old age (Leonard Schiller).
I have always loved the image of Jo March hiding up in the attic (she calls it a “garret” because it’s more romantic) of her family’s New England house, munching on russet apples and writing furiously away with her pet rat, Scrabble, as her muse, or curling up with Jane Eyre—it’s the only place she can be alone.
She’s one of the classic aspiring young writers of literature—a totally unconventional, headstrong girl with big ambitions who has provided inspiration for her real-life counterparts for generations, me included.
Louisa May Alcott shares the innocence of girlhood in this classic coming of age story about four sisters-Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.
In picturesque nineteenth-century New England, tomboyish Jo, beautiful Meg, fragile Beth, and romantic Amy are responsible for keeping a home while their father is off to war. At the same time, they must come to terms with their individual personalities-and make the transition from girlhood to womanhood. It can all be quite a challenge. But the March sisters, however different, are nurtured by their wise and beloved Marmee, bound by their love for each other and the…
Magical realism meets the magic of Christmas in this mix of Jewish, New Testament, and Santa stories–all reenacted in an urban psychiatric hospital!
On locked ward 5C4, Josh, a patient with many similarities to Jesus, is hospitalized concurrently with Nick, a patient with many similarities to Santa. The two argue…
Maybe because I’m a novelist, I’ve always loved reading novels about writers—it’s a joy to see my passionate relationship with my own work reflected in these fictional solitary obsessives, my literary siblings. Reading about their own writing gives me a sense of recognition, community, and solidarity, and makes me feel less alone in this odd vocation, which is no small thing. I can’t get enough fictional evocations of the daily discipline of the writer’s life—as well as the trajectory of a literary career—from adolescence (Jo March) to old age (Leonard Schiller).
The book is genius and totally bonkers in the best way.
When a would-be hermit, a 60something playwright named Charles Arrowby, retreats to a house by the sea to write his memoirs in solitude, he’s besieged by uninvited visitors and interpersonal trouble, much of it of his own making.
The titular sea is ever-present throughout, almost alive in all its changing moods, and there is a lot of food and drink amid the constant conversations. What follows is a masterpiece of self-delusion and nostalgia, obsession and regret, a very British kind of comic madness that resolves into philosophical calm.
Winner of the prestigious Booker Prize-a tale of the strange obsessions that haunt a playwright as he composes his memoirs
Charles Arrowby, leading light of England's theatrical set, retires from glittering London to an isolated home by the sea. He plans to write a memoir about his great love affair with Clement Makin, his mentor, both professionally and personally, and amuse himself with Lizzie, an actress he has strung along for many years. None of his plans work out, and his memoir evolves into a riveting chronicle of the strange events and unexpected visitors-some real, some spectral-that disrupt his world…
Maybe because I’m a novelist, I’ve always loved reading novels about writers—it’s a joy to see my passionate relationship with my own work reflected in these fictional solitary obsessives, my literary siblings. Reading about their own writing gives me a sense of recognition, community, and solidarity, and makes me feel less alone in this odd vocation, which is no small thing. I can’t get enough fictional evocations of the daily discipline of the writer’s life—as well as the trajectory of a literary career—from adolescence (Jo March) to old age (Leonard Schiller).
How could I not love this book? It’s set in the lovely (really!) city of Pittsburgh, and it’s about a lost weekend of literary hijinks and stoned debauchery.
The protagonist, Grady Tripp, is a young male writer making something of an ass of himself, but Chabon makes him so sympathetic, I can’t help rooting for him even as he digs himself in even deeper.
The dialogue crackles, the supporting characters are vivid and colorful, and the plot sweeps the reader up into a whirlwind of incredibly fun trouble.
A deft parody of the American fame factory and a piercing portrait of young and old desire, WONDER BOYS is a modern classic from the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of THE ADVENTURES OF KAVALIER & CLAY.
Grady Tripp is an over-sexed, pot-bellied, pot-smoking, ageing wunderkind of a novelist now teaching creative writing at a Pittsburgh college while working on his 2,000-page masterpiece, WONDER BOYS. When his rumbustious editor and friend, Terry Crabtree, arrives in town, a chaotic weekend follows - involving a tuba, a dead dog, Marilyn Monroe's ermine-lined jacket and a squashed boa constrictor.
The problem is not with the actions young women take but with the toxic, sexist conditions they are responding to.
Tanenbaum found, based on six years of interviews with young people ages 14-30, that young women are navigating a culture littered with gendered dress codes, revenge porn, and sexually explicit…
Maybe because I’m a novelist, I’ve always loved reading novels about writers—it’s a joy to see my passionate relationship with my own work reflected in these fictional solitary obsessives, my literary siblings. Reading about their own writing gives me a sense of recognition, community, and solidarity, and makes me feel less alone in this odd vocation, which is no small thing. I can’t get enough fictional evocations of the daily discipline of the writer’s life—as well as the trajectory of a literary career—from adolescence (Jo March) to old age (Leonard Schiller).
In this beautifully subtle, thrilling, and finely drawn novel, Brian Morton captures a certain kind of relationship better than anyone else: an old and nearly forgotten male novelist named Leonard Schiller becomes infatuated with Heather Wolfe, the young, female graduate student who is writing her thesis about his work.
This is a novel about fame, intellectual companionship, and ambition, and Morton handles these themes with compassion, insight, and masterful control. I love this novel as much for its startling truths about human nature as for the brilliance of the writing itself.
Leonard Schiller is a writer in his seventies. All of his books are out of print; he's left no mark in literary history; a lifetime of dedicated labor has brought him few rewards. Heather Wolfe is a graduate student in her twenties. She read Schiller's novels when she was growing up, and they changed her life. She decides to write her master's thesis about Schiller's work, and she sets out to meet him.
Starting Out in the Evening is a novel about the unexpected consequences of that meeting--and the unexpected consequences of art. Heather blows into Schiller's life like a…
I came out as a gay man later in life (at age 24) just as the AIDS crisis was beginning, and the deaths and societal backlash during that time almost pushed me back in the closet. The books I listed here were instrumental in helping me find my author’s “voice” while I struggled to fully accept my identity. I feel passionate about the list because the books contain elements essential for every decent fiction author: humour, pathos, grief, joy, empathy, love, and understanding of the human condition. In developing this list of books, I’m reminded of how crucial it is for writers to read and often study the work and style of other authors.
The witty duo from Blue Heaven invade the entourage of a tasteless real estate/media magnate, attempt to turn his talentless wife into a chanteuse, and vie for the affections of a suave magazine editor, in this deftly delicious comedy of bad manners, financial skullduggery, and romantic infighting.
In the hands of a skilled horror author, there is something powerful about a slow-burn romance. When two characters are drawn to each other against the backdrop of dread and danger, the stakes are raised. Every moment the two have together is hard-won, special. The romance doesn’t soften the horror; it sharpens it. It gives readers something to invest in and hope for. That intense emotional investment creates tension. Survival isn’t just about escaping the supernatural threat or a human monster; it’s about what might be lost if they don’t. In horror, love is a luxury because it’s risky and a vulnerability. It's a favorite element of good horror.
Some horror books manage to create a sense of dread that builds slowly over time, dropping little clues and breadcrumbs for the reader along the way, hinting at the horror just around the bend. Other books keep their secrets. If you’re a Devil Wears Prada fan, you will enjoy the trope of “new employee is completely disgusted by the lifestyle & culture modeled by their co-workers but eventually find themselves adapting to the point of getting sucked into it and believing in it.”
I also enjoyed the sapphic longing and desire that developed between some of the main characters. This works in tandem with the complexity of the story and the growing tension. I will not spoil the direction of the storyline and what ultimately makes this book land squarely in the horror genre, but I will say, it does not disappoint.
Sly, surprising, and razor-sharp, Natural Beauty follows a young musician into an elite, beauty-obsessed world where perfection comes at a staggering cost.
Our narrator produces a sound from the piano no one else at the Conservatory can. She employs a technique she learned from her parents—also talented musicians—who fled China in the wake of the Cultural Revolution. But when an accident leaves her parents debilitated, she abandons her future for a job at a high-end beauty and wellness store in New York City.
Holistik is known for its remarkable products and procedures—from remoras that suck out cheap Botox…
Crossing is a vividly human re-imagining of the love, sacrifices, and accomplishments that two Chinese brothers - American Immigrants - experience as they travel to California to build the Transcontinental Railroad.
I've always been fascinated by time: by the pull of the past, by our hopes and fears about the future, and especially by the present. We spend so much of our lives looking backward through memory and regret, or forward through anticipation and worry, that the moment actually happening can receive less attention than it deserves. As a novelist, I'm drawn to stories that play with time while remaining deeply interested in ordinary human experience: humor, attention, belonging, and the small details that make a life feel lived. The books on this list remind me, each in a different way, that life actually happens in the present.
Like Holden standing slightly outside Pencey and watching the people around him without quite belonging, I have often felt most comfortable observing from the edge. In many ways, that distance is part of what made me a writer.
I also love the intimacy of Holden's voice, the sense that he is speaking directly to someone he trusts. I try to keep readers close in my own writing too, even without addressing them directly.
His wandering through Manhattan speaks to the flâneur in me, and I return to the humor, the sensitivity to detail, and the humanity of the book. Even when Holden is haunted by the past, he keeps choosing the present.
I love the thrill of the chase and have always been passionate about the dramatic. In school, I was always the evil sorceress in plays. Later, as a professional actress, I sought dramatic roles or outrageously funny characters. Psychological thrillers fulfill the need to make my world more dramatic than it actually is. I call good thrillers “fudge reading.” Because having them in my life is like pigging out on the best fudge you can find, now, as a writer of psychological thrillers, I try and give my readers a roller coaster ride on daring topics just the way these five writers have inspired me to do.
I became obsessed with the two main characters in this book. You could say good vs. evil, but it’s more than that. For me, this was an existential journey into the tunnels of two people’s minds. I learned everything about the way Captain Delaney’s mind worked and the man he chased, Daniel Blank.
For me, this was the kind of mystery/thriller in which you eventually know more about the characters than they know about themselves. Even more thrilling was how similar they both became in the end. It was like their personalities blended into one man.
I grew up watching old Bogart movies on TV with my father. From Phillip Marlowe to Sam Spade, I was taken with the life of the P. I. Once I was old enough to read and enjoy the irony as well as the sex and violence in Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer tales, I’d pull the detective novels from under my old man’s bed and spend time with all the lowlifes. Guess I’ve never grown out of my love for noir. That’s why I started writing P. I. novels as well as reading them. I hope they bring as much entertainment to others as those old-school sagas brought to me.
I loved this book because it pitted the criminal’s warped psyche against that of the private detective.
Would the latter be willing to compromise his own moral code to stop the heinous actions of the former? How far is anyone willing to go not only to confront evil but to eliminate it?
Andrew Vachss's implacable private eye has a new client, Strega. She wants Burke to find an obscene photograph—and that search will take him into the ocean that flows just beneath the city, an ocean whose currents are flesh and money, the anguish of children and the pleasure of twisted adults. It is a place that Burke can visit only at the risk of his sanity and his life. But between the power of Strega and his own sense of justice, there is no turning back.
In Strega one of our most acclaimed crime writers gives us a thriller that might…
At five years old, Kasiel was found with the pointed ends of his ears cut off. Despite that brutal start, he’s lived twelve peaceful years with the man who took him in. Keeping his hair long over his mutilated ears helps him hide the fact that he is Vanrian, a…
I’m a native New Yorker whose recent move to the UK gives me both unique insight into a city I lived the hell out of for decades and space and time to look back and wonder what it was all about, like with a lover you still adore but are relieved you’re no longer with. I’ve partied in squats and walked red carpets. I can sniff out a fake-take on this city so many people feel they know long before ever visiting it, and that always offends/bores/turns me off. These books got it right, and I’m thrilled to point more people in their direction.
Growing up in New York City, I’ll never forget my first experience, at around the age of seven, with people literally living underground. Our subway stalled in a tunnel in front of an abandoned station. The lights went off in the car and the platform outside was cast in an eerie orange glow by a single bulb.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, charged my subway car, and started banging wildly and laughing maniacally, just on the other side of the glass to me. This continued for what felt like a million years before the train came back to life, and we moved on.
Decades later, I discovered this book about a parallel city below mine where people like that man live an alternative existence in miles and miles of dark warrens underground. I’m obsessed with it.
Thousands of people live in the subway, railroad, and sewage tunnels that form the bowels of New York City and this book is about them, the so-called mole people. They live alone and in communities, in subway tunnels and below subway platforms and this fascinating study presents how and why people move underground, who they are, and what they have to say about their lives and the “topside” world they’ve left behind.
