100 Books Like Uncommon Danger

Lady Audley’s Secret—another famous example of a Sensation novel or a thrilling tale with a central secret—kept me turning the pages into the middle of the night. Like Wilkie Collins, Braddon was an immensely popular novelist in the 1860s, churning out potboiler after potboiler and raking in a nice profit along the way.

“A book without a murder, a divorce, a seduction, or a bigamy is not apparently considered worth either writing or reading,” observed Fraser’s Magazine in what sounds to me like priggish disapproval. But I sympathize with those avid readers of the day—many of them women who were denied agency and full personhood.

From the opening pages (where the heat of the desert seeps off the page), I was hooked by this mystery. And then, the fun and games began.

There I was, enjoying the superbly-paced plot, the psychological realism, the stark beauty of Hughes’ prose when – suddenly – the book leapt from being very, very good to being a work of genius. I won’t share the twist, but it’s a powerful, provocative one.

Hughes, like all the authors on my list, shows that pulp fiction can be truly great, game-changing literature.

I’d already read a couple of Fremlin’s "psycho-domestic noir" mysteries when I picked up this book, but nothing prepared me for the emotional and psychological punch packed by it.

One of the reasons I love genre fiction is that it is so obviously fiction. I enjoy entering another world, just for a while, taking an emotional rollercoaster ride, safely strapped in, and then stepping back into my life. Reading this book blew this cosy-crime-reading model out of the water, and I’m glad it did.

Specifically, Fremlin writes – from the inside, painfully honestly – about widowhood and, as a widow myself, there was something both comforting and uncanny in her insights.

Once I’d belatedly realised that women wrote noir, it was a short step to becoming obsessed with Margaret Millar, a Canadian/American counterpart to British Celia Fremlin.

This book kept me guessing right to the end. It has a psychological complexity that means the characters got under my skin, and it is crammed with razor-sharp insights into dysfunctional relationships. I just love Millar’s spare prose: "The smile meant nothing. It was one of habit. She put it on in the morning along with her lipstick and removed it at night when she washed her face. Jim liked this smile of Daisy’s…"

It is easy to see why Millar was celebrated in her own time – and, sadly, equally easy to guess the reasons she now needs "rediscovering."

Rich in illustrations, ambitious in scope, and still relevant despite having been written in the pre-perestroika Soviet Union, Golomstock makes his four-way comparison accessible and convincing by insisting that “totalitarian art,” a distinct genre with its own aesthetics and style, organization, and ideology, emerged with the rise of the four regimes indicated in the title of his book. 

Slobodan Milosevic’s trial by the first post-Cold War international court, the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, required the creation of a whole new court and set of procedures, and established many of the current rules on trying war crimes and crimes against humanity. There’s a lot written on the ICTY, but I like Scharf’s book because he tells the backstories, explains the different choices that the court could have made, and makes for a fascinating read.

A remarkable novel about Truus Wijsmuller, a very brave woman in the Netherlands, resisting the Nazis by smuggling Jewish children out of Nazi Germany to the nations that will take them. A very moving and true story. The role of women in the resistance movement in the Netherlands has been neglected or underrepresented for way too long, so this story helps to shed light on the active resistance women carried out in WWII. This is exactly what my platform ‘Sophie’s Women of War’ sheds light on. 

I found Ehrenfreund’s book compelling because he applied his legal expertise as a lawyer and judge to what he personally witnessed at the trial. His research included numerous conversations with Germans who lived through the Nazi regime. I also valued his insights as they were informed by his personal journey to learn his grandfather’s fate many years after he disappeared into the Holocaust. While Ehrenfreund reveals how U.S. law heavily influenced the law applied at Nuremberg, I found his analysis of the trial’s subsequent influence on U.S. law revealing. For example, Justice Robert Jackson, chief prosecutor at Nuremberg and U.S. Supreme Court Justice, was impacted by the racial hatred that underlies the crimes of the Holocaust in Brown v. Board of Education, The U.S. Court’s school desegregation decision.

The trials of Nazi war criminals are an important but subsidiary theme in Mary Fulbrook’s book. In Francine Hirsch’s study, the most significant trial of top-ranking German officials takes center stage, the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg. Unlike most previous analyses of Nuremberg, which depict the Soviets as minor actors who, if anything, were impediments to the quest for justice, Hirsch insists that Soviet contributions were essential cornerstones of the trial’s success. This may seem an unlikely role for a totalitarian country already responsible for terror famines in Ukraine, the atrocious show trials of the 1930s, and the senseless murder of 20,000 Poles in the Katyn Forest in 1940. Nonetheless, as Hirsch cogently argues, without Soviet participation the trial may never have occurred. The glory of her book is its insistence on the counterintuitive and contradictory nature of reality, in which, against all expectations, an authoritarian regime led by a… show more.

This book makes a powerful case that humanitarian war no more exists than philanthropic child abuse or benevolent torture. I’m not sure the actual motivations of wars are limited to economic and strategic interests—which seems to forget the insane, power-mad, and sadistic motivations—but I am sure that no humanitarian war has ever benefitted humanity.

This book makes that very clear. It does not take the approach so widely recommended of watering down the truth so that the reader is only gently nudged in the right direction from where he or she is starting. There’s no getting 90% reassuringly wrong to make the 10% palatable here. This is a book for either people who have some general notion of what war is or people who aren’t traumatized by jumping into an unfamiliar perspective and thinking about it. Refreshing!