100 Books Like You Have a Match

In All That’s Left To Say, dual timelines braid threads of a mystery together in a way that allowed me to contrast Hannah then and now and wonder not just about the mystery Hannah’s trying to solve, but about how she became the master sleuth she thinks she needs to be to get answers.

This contrast, as much as the mystery, drew me into the story and had me turning pages every time we jumped between past and present. Of course, the enemies-to-friends-to-lovers romance also helped. How Lord imbued a single tie-straightening scene with more sexual tension than most kissing scenes might be the biggest mystery in this book.

I’m drawn to sister stories, which is something I only realized when I started writing this list, and it occurred to me that a number of my recommendations use the slowburn mystery as a means to explore sisterhood (something my own book does, as well).

I have a sister (hi, Diana!) and we have an uncomplicated and happy relationship. So maybe I subconsciously craved more drama growing up? Kidding aside, there’s something innately compelling about the dynamics between two people who may be very different or very similar, who share blood and memories, and who are tied together, for better or worse, for life.

How to Live Without You is a sister story at its best, as Emmy is the only person who’s capable of following Rose’s breadcrumbs.  

The main mystery in this book is not a mystery to the reader. It’s a mystery to the main character, Stevie. I love this twist.

I don’t think I’ve ever read another book where the protagonist is trying to uncover their own past, and the reader knows what answers she’ll find if she succeeds. (Though there are a few surprises that the reader isn’t privy to until Stevie unearths them.) The heart of this story is its romance, which is beautiful, heartwarming, and heartbreaking all at once.

I loved everything about this book, honestly. I read it in two days, and the only reason I didn’t read it in one sitting is because I have a small child and that precludes sequestering yourself in a room to finish a book. 

Nine years is quite the slowburn. That’s how long it takes Sheldon Horowitz to achieve revenge for his father’s murder in Derek B. Miller’s dark comedy thriller How to Find Your Way in the Dark.

Of course, a lot of other things happen throughout the course of what is arguably more of a coming-of-age novel set against the backdrop of World War II than “YA,” but what hooked me in this story was Sheldon’s tenacity as he grows up, doggedly determined to find out who killed his father and why. The misadventures he gets into as a result, along with his cousins and best friend, are simultaneously bumbling and thrilling.

This is a bittersweet comedy of manners in which John le Carré ventures way beyond the spy novels for which he is more famous. For lovers of spy novels—and I am one such—there is much here to savour. Le Carré draws upon the French concept of the naïve – as paired with the sentimental by the German essayist Friedrich Schiller—to inform and enliven the telling of a tale about a love triangle in middle England. Underlying the comic idiom of the novel is an acid dissection of the causes of British failure to be a part of Europe and to help lead Europe out of her darkness. A tale, perhaps, for our times. 

I love how this book tackled emotional topics, including divorce and navigating family dynamics, made deeper through the exploration of the characters in the dual timeline.

Shiloh and Carey were inseparable in high school but never truly romantic. They both shared a dream of escaping their town. But now, fourteen years later, the two are back in town and struggling to find their footing. I loved how, even among the uncertainty the two had in their lives and so much time apart, they became each other’s grounding force in both the past and the present timeline. 

Both Carey and Shiloh were complex and flawed characters, and I felt that their decisions were authentic, which I love! I also adored how Shiloh’s children were incorporated into the book. They brought additional nuance to Shiloh’s present-day character while also providing levity to an otherwise deeply emotional and angsty book!

This novel exemplifies parenting fiction in my mind. It takes a concept I could’ve read about in a nonfiction parenting book (how to handle teenage drinking) and slides it into a compelling narrative that realistically depicts all the potential complexities and nuances in the parenting decisions and how they might play out, including several factors and consequences related to teen alcohol use and parent-sponsored parties that I would’ve never thought of myself.  

All hail the queen. Sally Rooney makes it look easy, with just the right amount of Irish, nothing-is-easy-you-insufferable-wanker on the side. This book has it all: awkward yet undeniably hot sexual tension! Arguments! Cool names! A house that is bigger than yours!

And within Rooney’s stupidly gorgeous prose, we find ourselves not only yelling “EXACTLY!” out loud, many times, to an empty room but answering the book’s central question: right here. As long as we have a good book, that beautiful world is right here.

I love this book because it has everything, believable, engaging characters, a riveting plot, a vivid setting, and a cause. Larger-than-life Margery O’Hare and lady-like Alice are unlikely friends, but friends they become in this great story.

When I first saw photos of those "librarians on horseback," the wonderful women who responded to Eleanor Roosevelt’s call to take books to the rural poor of Kentucky in the depressed 1930s, I longed to know more. Jojo Moyes gives us lots more. There’s an array of well-drawn characters, but it’s Margery and Alice who drive the story forward, defying the odds to achieve their aims and find men who love and appreciate them.

Yes, it’s a love story, too, and a whodunnit? Perfect!

Years ago, before we had books out in the world or even deals to publish them, I once saw Gretchen Schreiber describe her book as The Breakfast Club set in a hospital. I was immediately beyond sold, and since then, I’ve enjoyed watching every step of that book coming into existence.

This novel explores something about chronic illness and disability that I think about often–the way we almost divide ourselves into two people. For Ellie, that’s who she is in the hospital versus who she is outside of it. For me, that’s one person who’s allowed to be sick and one who isn’t.