100 books like Please Kill Me

Immigrants have the biggest impact on what modern day New Yorkers eat.

This book tells the story of five families from different cultures—German, Irish, Russian (Prussian) Jewish, Lithuanian, and Italian—who at various times all lived at the same tenement on the Lower East Side in the late 19th and early 20th century. Their stories, and the ways their adopted culture evolved since immigrating to America, is told with an examination of the resourceful ways the families earned money, sourced, and shopped for food.

Recipes reveal how certain dishes born out of necessity became iconic staples of American cuisine (for instance, how and why corned beef is an Irish-American, not ethnically Irish dish). 

This wild, uproarious classic still makes me laugh out loud when I read it, though I must have been through it eight or ten times. And while it’s darkly funny, that’s not even the best thing about it.

This book gives an intimate portrait of early-seventies drug culture, as well as American society and its political realities, in real-time. There’s no sense of distance or retrospection, except when he thinks about the countercultural explosion of a few years earlier. He sees it nostalgically and clearly sees its demise. Not everyone will agree with his assessment of that demise, but his take on it is an important one. For all its hilarity, it’s a very dark book.

The book is an engaging memoir about what it was like in the 1950s for a single woman just out of college to balance life and relationships while starting a career in magazine publishing in the Big Apple and follows her career and family relationships through to the 1970s.

Though things like finding an apartment in a trendy neighborhood back then were significantly easier than they are in modern day, the hilarious accounts about the challenges of adapting to small living conditions still ring true.

It’s an entertaining glimpse into the golden age of the print magazine industry, but it’s also a brutally honest account of women’s mental health issues, and what it’s like to seemingly have it all but still feel the constraints imposed by choosing to live in NYC. Any aspiring writer should read this book. 

No list of books on the indie music scenes of the 1980s is complete without this classic tale of the rise of commercial tensions regarding indie rock bands.

Music offered a form of rebellion against conformity – and punk challenged the corporate music industry of the 1970s with its DIY code and aesthetics. But in its wake, new forms of rebellion and alternative pathways to success emerged – at least for a time.

These bands that Azerrad chronicles became the giants of this alternative scene, and they were the sound of college radio. As Azerrad writes, corporate labels co-opted new wave in the early 1980s, “but they couldn’t co-opt punk’s infrastructure—the local underground scenes, labels, radio stations, fanzines, and stores. They, perhaps more so than any particular musical style, are punk’s most enduring legacy.” 

The birth of punk rock was never really about the music – or at least not just about the music – and England’s Dreaming sets the context for probably the most volatile genre to assault the senses. Jon Savage’s book explores the historical and social setting that led to this – albeit brief – explosion in youth culture. He links together the birth of anarchism with the Situationist art movement alongside the eventual do-it-yourself attitude of punk fashion and music to create a narrative that’s both fascinating and incredibly relevant to the world today. As the legendary contemporaneous fanzine, Sniffing Glue once put it: Here’s a guitar chord, here’s another, here’s another…now go form a band!

Tells the story of the further development of punk in Washington DC, and the birth of a thousand subgenres, from emo to post-hardcore and beyond, and punk's embracing of a more aware political consciousness, as well as a broader musical spectrum.

This book has been my bible for most of my adult life - reading it as a teenager changed everything. Rollins' diaries from the gruelling years of grunt level touring with arguably the most important punk band of them all (Black Flag), it has to be read to be believed, and will make you grateful for everything you have in life, whilst also tweaking your hunger for the road.

American Hardcore is like the more aggressive cousin to Please Kill Me. While the latter is more of a narrative, American Hardcore is an audiophile’s masterpiece. It catalogs the evolution of hardcore music from coast to coast: its code of ethics, bloody brawls, and unrelenting spirit. It is as much a compilation of photographs and shows flyers as it is in interviews, providing a bird’s-eye view of the subculture. I appreciate this book for its scope and its commitment to documentation. 

I feel it’s important to note that I never liked this stupid band. But Mötley Crüe's book was all guilty pleasure for me: pleasure because I knew Seattle grunge had already killed their L.A. hair-band era, and guilty because (a) there turned out to be genuinely poignant moments, which revealed that (b) I’m a snob.

This book is a fast read of a slow-motion car crash, documenting the squalid, drug-sick lives of four self-consumed dingbats who stepped in success and somehow couldn’t scrape it off their shoe. I find this book revolting and recommend it highly.   

Culture critic Chuck Klosterman is essentially the next-gen Hunter S. Thompson. This book is a stream of consciousness foray into contemporary pop culture, ranging from essays on sports to music to reality TV. It’s an odd, brilliant, self-indulgent take on the American zeitgeist. Feel smart and have a laugh at the same time.