So, you think you don't like that genre

Five novels from genres you may THINK you don't like, and why you should give these must-reads a try

Apr 05, 2024

Be honest—you’ve had this conversation.

“Have you read the latest novel by Mr. Author Man?”
“Oh, I don’t like horror (or fantasy, or nonfic, or romance, or take-your-pick).”

Before I became a writer, my response was similar, and even now, I have my preferences. It’s cool—we all do. Now, I read a lot more work outside of my personal genre preference as an occupational necessity—reading something I’m not so familiar with helps to identify craft elements much easier—but I think reading outside of our favorites is more than just useful exercise or a staycation of sorts from the genre home we develop. I think it offers interesting perspectives and fresh stories we would otherwise rob ourselves of.

I’m not saying throw your fav out. I dig historical fiction (the most), and I don’t think that will ever change. But I am saying there’s a world of experiences to enjoy through literature, so why limit your imagination to one set of experiences, one set of literary conventions, or one set of likeminded—and sometimes, like-motivated— authors?

So, I’m going to make a case for a few novels—and genres—to explore, especially if…

you THINK you don’t like them.

Before we really start chewing on this bone, what do you say? Let’s get the ~~cheating~~… I mean authorial prerogative out of the way.

I began this essay by saying I would discuss some novels you need to read— some fiction. I lied. There’s a non-fiction story I think is a must read (yes, I think factual accounts can and should be good stories), so let’s start there.

1. Non-Fiction

Continental Reckoning: The American West in the Age of Expansion by Elliott West

Full disclosure, I’m still reading it myself, and though I wouldn’t recommend something I’ve yet to finish under most circumstances, I’m making an exception for this book for a couple of reasons. First, it’s wonderfully written, a largely unknown account of one of two major defining moments in American history that simply isn’t taught, and because you’ll likely live and die never having known how we, Americans, became who we are otherwise. Second, it’s a big book, so I’m eating it like I would an elephant, and I want you to know it’s okay if you to do the same.

West is an award-winning author, renown historian, Professor of History Emeritus at the University of Arkansas, and let me tell you, he is a storyteller.

The creation of the [American] West and the emergence of Modern America were intimately related. Neither can be understood without the other. With masterful prose and a critical eye, West presents a fresh approach to the dawn of the American West, one of the most pivotal periods of American History.

Neither can be understood without the other, and yet the majority of Americans—and everyone else in the world—have a selectively crafted notion of the West and how the West was won. I am neither an apologist nor a presentist, but the truth is our notion of history and Western expansion—what we’re presented as facts and glean as reality—are, in truth, curated glimpses through the green, grey, and gold shaded lenses of government perceived necessity, academic historical ignorance, and Hollywood’s romanticization of the Cowboy, Miner, Explorer, and so on.

Again, I neither apologize nor condemn, but as an American, I do want to know the whole story as completely and objectively as I can. It is a story unlike any you’ve heard or imagined, and West is just the man to tell it.

Continental Reckoning has over 650 pages of awesome between the covers. Okay, a detailed bibliography and index make up 101 of those pages in the copy I have, and there’s 33 pages of introductory information (but don’t skip these. West’s acknowledgment is one of the most compelling and evocative things I’ve read in some time and worth the price of admission). So, the story itself (including 63 pages of intext notes) is only a meager 455 pages! LOL

I did say it was an elephant. One bite at a time people. Trust me, you can and will enjoy this story. You just eat it one bite at a time…

PLEASE don’t be intimidated by the fact that this is a nonfic walk through history, or because of the size of this book. It is exhaustive, but we’ve missed so much of this history, and man is it worth exploring. And it’s chocked full of illustrations, maps, and photographs. The only thing it doesn’t have is a sheet of stickers, coloring page, or a scratch-n-sniff section.

You may find more information on Elliott West and his book, including where to purchase, here.

2. Literary Fiction (also parenting self-help & apocalyptic horror)

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

I’m a McCarthy nut. Not a sell-my-kid’s-clothes-to-bid-on-one-of-his-type-writers-nut, but pretty nutty. There’s something about his writing that simply connects with me. The existential commentary, the refusal to shy away from darker aspects of human nature, the Romantic ideas—the disregard for grammar conventions. I love every bit of it.

This novel was the first book I read cover-to-cover. Now I have multiple copies. In fact, it’s one of two books that I refuse to pass up.

There’s been a ton written about McCarthy, obviously, and much of it is centered on The Road. I wrote a critical analysis about it last year which takes a look at the differences between the child messiah archetype present in The Road and in The Hunger Games. “Big M little m” was fun to write and available here if you’re interested.

As mentioned, the novel was successfully adapted into a film of the same name, so I’d be surprised if you don’t already know the synopsis. But for those who don’t THINK they like litfic or apocalyptic horror or parenting self-helps and have avoided it, the story follows a nameless father (the boy does call him Papa, but we never learn his name) and son (frequently referred to as the boy or the child) duo across a dead North American landscape in the aftermath of an apocalyptic event. Without plants, animals die, and without animals or plants, we die. And we know how people react during moments of hysteria—warranted or otherwise. Things get, well, anti-social pretty fast and outright apocalyptic soon thereafter.

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It is litfic, no doubt. Its character driven, beautifully written, and theme drips from the margins. But it’s filled with elements of horror too, both bodily and existentially centered. With respect to parenting self-help books, I know what you’re thinking: Be serious, Aaron. Parenting? Self-help?

I’m not being sarcastic when I say it—I genuinely think it presents questions every parent should consider, discuss with each other, and prepare to answer. And I think it is required reading for fathers. Period

I love Papa in this novel and believe that I empathize with him as only a father can. With that said, I don’t agree with his answer, and somehow that makes me care about him even more.

It’s truly a wonderful read—horrifying in parts and terrifying in others, heartbreaking here and hope filled there. It’s a novel which blends and bends genre conventions, and it is one you should read now—like, stop-reading-this-and-come-back-to-it-when-you’re-finished, now.

You can check out more about McCarthy and The Road, including where to purchase, here.

Did I mention it won the Pulitzer Prize? Okay, enough; The Road doesn’t need my help. Just trust me—go read the thing!

3. Romance (also horror & adventure)

The Mummy or Ramses the Damned by Anne Rice

Most people know Anne Rice for her Vampire Chronicles, which reinvigorated the dried-up subgenre in the late 20th century and kept the sun off of the immortal blood suckers until they developed glitter-skin and enrolled in prep school (not a knock on that phase at all), or they know her for the Mayfair Witches. But one novel which gets overshadowed is The Mummy, or as it is also known, Ramses the Damned.

Now if you Google the novel, it will likely be described as horror, which it is (you know… ancient Egypt, mummies, supernatural powers), and it’s also an adventure novel (fast paced action, high stakes, desert escapes, trains), but when I think about this story, it screams romance novel.

Another disclosure here. The closest I’ve come to reading a traditionally genre’d romance novel was obtaining parental consent as a Marine Recruiter from a mother who wrote dozens of hit romance novels in the 80s and 90s under a pseudonym. I wish I could remember her name, but I can’t. I wouldn’t share it of course, but it’d be nice to look up her novels now.

All of that to say, for you hardcore romance readers out there, shoot me a suggested title so I can learn more about the genre. Don’t shoot me for describing The Mummy as a romance, please. It feels like one to me.

It’s a fast paced, plot driven, story of timeless love with a hero who faces seemingly insurmountable odds, and a love interest who is capable but stifled by her time and place within an aristocratic society. The pair are attractive, sensual, and willing to do anything to save their love.

Now for you readers who say no thanks to the gush and goo of romance, or the so-called formulaic plot points, don’t fret. Did I mention it’s about a monster who is basically a smart treasure hunting badass with magical powers? And for you readers who THINK you don’t like any of that, Rice brings ancient Egypt to life, and everyone likes pyramids and artifacts and hidden treasure. It’s useless trying to convince me you don’t.

As the title implies, Ramses the Great—yes that Ramses—is a mummy reawakened in Edwardian London and reinvigorated by contemporary life. He’s found love in an adventurous woman but is haunted by his last reawakening and his beloved Cleopatra—yes, that Cleopatra—which drives him to make a grave mistake. It’s fun, haunting, evocative—provocative—nail-biting and adventure laden, and I know you’ll enjoy it.

For more information about Anne Rice and The Mummy, or Ramses the Damned, including where to purchase, please visit her official site, here.

4. Historical Fiction (also war story)

Killing Rommel by Steven Pressfield

Let’s talk the degrees in which someone can be nuts about an author. If I’m a pistachio for Cormac McCarthy, then I’m a nut off of The Official State Tree of The Great State of Texas—I’m a Pecan for Pressfield.

Several of Pressfield’s books are required reading for Marines and other military service academies, including Gates of Fire (my favorite novel!) and The Warrior Ethos (a pocket sized nonfic. It’s worth a read and available at a discount here when purchased in bulk. I only buy it in bulk—told you… Pecan for Pressfield)

This was the toughest selection to make because I love so many of his books, but also because this isn’t my favorite of them. As mentioned, Gates of Fire is my favorite novel (not just Pressfield book), and Tides of War is a very close second (of Pressfield’s work). Killing Rommel is probably tied for third place with The Afghan Campaign and Last of the Amazons (they’re all great and master classes in Historical Fiction and telling the war story).

Tied as it may be, I chose this novel, because I think it’s one of the two most accessible and welcoming novels into historical fiction and war stories that exist.

It is about a young officer in WWII and the exploits of his compatriots in a British special forces unit called the Long Range Desert Group, better known as the LRDG (a real unit in history). Here’s another occasion where it’s better for me to sit back and let the grown-ups talk.

As in all of his previous novels, Pressfield powerfully renders the drama and intensity of warfare, the bonds of men in close combat, and the surprising human emotions and frailties that come into play on the battlefield. A vivid and authoritative depiction of the desert war, Killing Rommel brilliantly dramatizes an aspect of World War II that hasn’t been in the limelight since Patton. Combining scrupulous historical detail and accuracy with remarkable narrative momentum, this galvanizing novel heralds Pressfield’s gift for bringing more recent history to life.

And, again, it’s not even my favorite! Save your talk about desert power and worm sign until you’ve read about the Desert Fox, the allied victory in North Africa, and the LRDG. You won’t be disappointed. Of all my recommendations, this is the one I am most confident in.

For more information about Steven Pressfield, Killing Rommel and his other works, fiction and nonfic, I encourage you to check out his website, here.

The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty

As films go, this is the scariest story ever shown. Truly, it’s a terrifying spectacle to behold, and the screenplay was written by the same author, Blatty, so we can thank him for the nightmares. But I believe that story was written for a different purpose than the novel. There’re some interesting interviews where Blatty talks about the shockingly low number of drafts (novel and screenplay) and timeline for production that are all easy to Google and read.

So, there’s the most terrifying thing ever put on the big screen, and then there’s the novel, and I can’t tell you how many people refuse to read this novel because they think they know this story. Blatty’s novel, was written to offer hope, and I’ll tell you why, but first let’s just talk about the story itself.

It follows an atheist mother, Chris, and a Jesuit priest and psychiatrist who’s lost his faith, Father Karras, as they try to help Chris’ daughter, Regan, who appears to be possessed. There’s murder and mystery, religious practice and ritual, parental angst, and fraternal camaraderie—love even.

It’s part medical procedure story and part detective story. It’s part body horror and part religious horror. It’s got side splitting humor and soul wincing despair. And every bit of it is weighed in equal measure on a scale held up with love.

It’s an argument for God.

The Exorcist offers more than bodily fluids, head spinning, a crucifix and some serious stairs. It presents questions of the afterlife and faith and love, both maternal and fraternal, and forces the reader to consider the cost, and value, of self-sacrifice for the innocent. It’s easily one of the most compelling and evocative stories I’ve ever read, and one which I think offers, in the end, hope. That’s unequivocally what Blatty was going for.

Eddie Dean quotes Blatty in an article and interview published by The Washingtonian in 2015 in which he describes a period of his life which inspired the novel, its messaging, and intent.1

There was a period of time after my mother’s death when I would describe my faith as more of an intense hope than a solidly held belief…
[The Exorcist is] an argument for God. I intended it to be an apostolic work, to help people in their faith. Because I thoroughly believed in the authenticity and validity of that particular event…
I’ve read some of the most ridiculous theories, even by critics that I respect, about how the novel symbolizes teenage rebellion and all sorts of sociological nonsense. There’s no hidden message. The book is the book, and it says what I wanted it to say.

Whether you believe, as Blatty did, about the authenticity and validity of that particular event, Blatty hoped that you would get the point. He became so concerned with readers confusion over the messaging that he wrote a new scene and changed some of the dialogue for the 40th anniversary edition. I for one, don’t think it was necessary, but I’m not the author, and my reading of the novel isn’t influenced by the film outside of how I imagine the characters looking when I read it.

Why roll the dice on your peaceful sleep by reading this novel? Well, I think there’s something for everyone in this novel and it’s a great story. I was exaggerating about the Sunday school lesson guide, but just barely. The children’s Sunday School class— probably not. The adult Sunday School class— what are you waiting on? A sign? It’s an uncomfortable read in some sections, to be sure, but necessary in my opinion.

In short, I think it’s as close to a perfect novel as can be written by man and one you should read, especially if you THINK you don’t like horror or can’t handle possession horror.2

For more information about William Peter Blatty and The Exorcist, including where to purchase the 40th anniversary edition, you can go here. After all, and in Blatty’s own words, “This is the version I would like to be remembered for."3

I also recommend that everyone listen to the audio book. There are two versions which are very good, but you should listen to the one narrated by Blatty himself. It’s marvelous and brings the story to life in a way only he can.

That’s it. I rest my case, your honor.

Stay well-read within your favorite genre, friends— seriously. I know my favorite isn’t going anywhere, but let’s try something new, together, and if you’re thinking now’s the time to mix things up, consider reading one of my recommendations.

I’m curious, have you read any of these, or other works by these authors? What’s your favorite genre? What genre have you resisted, but are thinking about giving a try? What do you think about the five suggestions I’ve made? Is The Exorcist a love story (hint hint… it is!)?

I’d love to hear what you think, so be sure to let me know via DM in Substack, the comments below, or with the socials on Instagram @Panepublsihingco. That’s also where you’ll find updates on my forthcoming book, Hot Box.

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