100 Books Like What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

What I love about this collection is the elastic nature of the stories. Though most of the entries in this collection are dark, most contain a lighthearted energy and playfulness. They are quirky, loose, and not afraid to turn the stereo up and dance. This book taught me that fiction can be fun and still pack a powerful punch. It also encouraged me to try out experimental story ideas that may seem absurd at first. The story may not work out, but when it does, you can end up in surprising places. “The Ape Lady in Retirement” is a perfect example of this.

Stephen King has arguably perfected creating stories in which supernatural things happen to ordinary people. This set-up—what I loved so much about Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone TV series—is irresistible. Across fourteen tales, King delivers mind-bending tales that draw you in. “1408” a story about a ghost skeptic/writer who stays in a haunted New York hotel room is especially gripping. King was a big, early influence on me and though I didn’t keep up with his work much past Misery, whenever I do dive into his later work, I invariably find him as good as ever.

Adler’s book depicts a woman’s life through a series of moments, incidents, bits of speech that come at the journalist narrator. The short passages perfectly capture the neurotic energy, humor, and horror of New York City. When I first read it, I was blown away. It showed there is great latitude in ways to approach writing. The short, choppy format is the closest a book has come to mirror my experience as a writer who seeks to find meaning and/or humor in everyday life. It’s a jagged mosaic of a book when put together is a delightful treasure.

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.

I loved the Glaswegian (quasi-Irish!) voice of Shuggie Bain, but what I will always remember it for is its gut-wrenching depiction of the consequences of poverty and alcoholism for the titular child character. 

There were times when I was reading this novel that I literally flinched from it. It’s one of the most poignant times that I can remember having such a visceral reaction to a book. 

What I found truly remarkable was the book’s sense of simultaneous inevitability and hope. At once, I felt that there was only one possible end for Agnes and Shuggie, and yet I also somehow believed that both characters would escape their miserable situation.

This idea, that hope sustains even against the most improbable odds, accesses something fundamentally human. A book that can do that is one I would recommend any day.

The characters in this novel-in-stories are so vivid, you almost flinch at the intimacy and truth of which they speak. There is the sense of a curtain being drawn back to reveal this poignant account of a 70-year marriage that begins during World War Two. Here we have Harry, with the heart of a poet, who is a contrast to Evelyn, tough, and at times acerbic. Though it is Harry that most readers will probably warm to, Evelyn, with her difficult background—an alcoholic father and enabling mother—has had challenges that make her hold herself to a higher standard and therefore makes for a complex character. Inevitably her headstrong nature may be judged more harshly than if these were traits assigned to a man. The writing is lyrical with a precision that marks Kathy Page’s work. Whatever you think about the characters, you will doubtless be affected by their lives as… show more.

As quirky and atmospheric as the family it portrays, Booth is a brilliant ensemble piece about the family of Lincoln’s assassin, John Wilkes Booth.

Beautifully and bravely written in omniscient point of view, it weaves the lives of this eccentric family together into a comprehendible whole. If you ever longed for ‘the rest of the story’, this is it. I have my fingers crossed for a sequel – or at least another amazing book from one of my favorite writers.

Jim Thompson’s novel is arguably San Diego’s greatest classic noir work.

While not a crime novel, it captures wartime San Diego through the glass darkly, and I was moved and unsettled by Thompson’s unsparing forays into the alienation of those who were the most exploited in the city.

As the daughter of an alcoholic, I took enough college psychology classes to know I was part of an unchosen cycle, at risk to continue the family chaos.

Despite my resistance, my personal, unanticipated, troubled behavior did emerge, baffling me, and this book was exactly what I needed to sort things out, especially when I became a parent and feared contaminating my children.

Reading about negative, senseless, and too-familiar family habits of concealment, disparagement, anger, pain, and especially the role-playing coping mechanisms that commonly develop in a dysfunctional family, gave me hope.

Family hero, scapegoat, quiet one, mascot, all of these I recognized clearly. By learning, understanding, and erasing the blame, I could redefine normal and finally “crawl out of the trap.”

This book is more autobiographical, based on his struggle with alcoholism. Berryman had already written a book of poems, The Dream Songs (my favorite book of poems), which practically reads like a novel. It’s full of wit and playfulness and jerry-rigged syntax. Recovery is also witty but not quite as playful. It’s darker, of course. Perhaps one’s perception of it is colored by the knowledge that Berryman had committed suicide in 1972, a year before its release. So, it’s a melancholy book, yet its difficulties are human and common and, here, well-wrought by a poet’s grace.