100 Books Like Vassa in the Night

I’ve always wanted to write a book about an underwater town. Sea Change is as close as I’ve come, though there are no actual residential structures beneath the waves in my story.

But in The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea there is a whole, vibrant, beautifully-detailed underwater city, where various kinds of beings carry on with the business of their lives—working; eating; socializing with friends; making love, and making war. Nobody has gills or underwater breathing gear, but you come to this place after jumping into the sea, and schools of brightly colored fish swim through the air, while whales float like clouds in the sky above.  

Aside from people, spirits, and sea animals of various kinds, there are the magnificent sea dragons. They have scales of a vibrant, dazzling blue and move freely through the (underwater) air—buoyant, joyous. They have whiskered mouths, and eyes so large and dark… show more.

This is quite literally the book that made me decide to become a writer.

It draws on two Scottish ballads (“Tam Lin” and “Thomas the Rhymer”), but rather than retelling them straight, it uses them as a springboard for its own original plot. The relationship between the two main characters and the story they are telling together instilled in me a burning desire to tell my own stories for other people to read, and it also sent me off down a lifelong path of reading about the folklore that underpins the novels I pick up.

So many of the books I read flinch from letting there be truly bad consequences to the protagonist’s actions, but this one is impressive in how little it pulls its punches.

When I picked it up, I wasn’t as familiar with the Persian folklore that inspired it as I am with other novels, but it made me want to go read the tales it’s based on. I also found the writing lovely, a cut above many of the novels I read. And for bonus points, it has queer representation, too!

This is an absolutely gorgeous, lyrical read that does my favorite thing: blending folklore–in this case, Eastern European Jewish traditions–with historical individuals and events. It’s melancholy without being unrelentingly grim, hopeful without ignoring the hard edges of history, and it does a beautiful job of weaving its various strands together.

I don’t tend to read a lot of books that captivate me from the first page with their prose, but this was one of them.

At the heart of this book is a mother who appears mostly off stage but is truly the director of this fabulous story of a brother and sister trying to define and live their own American dreams in the shadow of US colonialization of Puerto Rico.

It’s a great read. Biting, funny, and political.

This is a book I press into everyone’s hands these days. It’s a book that speaks to many people, who have ever tried and failed to both be of family and get away from family. 

This book has everything a book club could ask for. Characters that you love, even when maybe you shouldn’t. Relationships that seem both familiar and endlessly fascinating. An epic dilemma that resonates and flourishes until the very end. It’ll definitely have you wondering, what would I do? At the end of the day, that question is all you really need for a lively book club discussion. 

An immersive, impressionistic snapshot of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, as it was in the 1920s and early 1930s, when it was known not for hipsters, craft beer, and creative facial hair but as a Jewish slum rife with yentas and gangsters. Fuchs published this book in 1934 and swiftly followed it up with two more novels, Homage to Blenholt and Low Company. The books didn’t sell, but Fuchs catapulted himself out of the ghetto and into a respectable West Coast life as a Hollywood screenwriter. Only after Fuchs had all but stopped writing fiction did these early books receive a warm reassessment from the likes of John Updike and Jonathan Lethem. Full disclosure: Fuchs was my great uncle! He was the older brother of my maternal grandfather.

This novel is an invigorating thrill ride along the streets of “Old Brooklyn” in a modern-day setting. As a former New Yorker who once listed Brooklyn as a hangout, it is rather easy to empathize with Sydney Green while she witnesses her cherished neighborhood being overtaken by invader investors perusing the streets in the guise of tourists. Something strikes her as peculiar when For Sale signs continue popping up at the existing homes with long-time neighbors suspiciously relocating to the suburbs. 

Ironically, Sydney encounters an unlikely helpmate in the form of someone whom she considers one of the intruders; Theo, a new neighbor. There’s a mutual distrust between them but it is not enough to override their suspicions about the things that are taking place. Is it overly accentuated paranoia or a genuine fear that compels the unlikely pair of sleuths to discover what is actually happening? Will their homes… show more.

My favorite of Miller’s books, Tropic of Capricorn is based on Miller’s life in Brooklyn in the 1920s. It’s a dizzying stream-of-consciousness array that sweeps you along. Miller’s occasional poignant reminiscences about the magic of his boyhood and friendships contrast with the soul-sucking realities of adulthood and workplace bureaucracy that try to stamp out the embers of wonder and passion like a boot heel. Like most of his books, Capricorn celebrates the absurd miracle of consciousness. Miller’s influence on my education as a writer was indispensable. His books didn’t serve so much as a template as how to write, as how to be a writer, specifically how to observe and appreciate the vast madness of the world, reject conformity, and the embrace the anarchist spirit of artistic creation.

If Indiana Jones was based in Brooklyn and was also an expert at magic and arcane lore, you'd have Piers Knight, the titular character of this book. Although a bit lighter on humor than the other entries here, I found this book to be fun and snappy, and as an additional bonus delves into the real (and weird!) historical factoids about New York City.