Perfect Pairs: Books that Go Together Like Cats and Bookstores

I thought about pairing Braithwaite’s and Jayatissa’s novel for their feminist leanings and disturbing exploration of gender politics (and, you know, murder). Then I thought about pairing Hobson’s and Braithwaite’s books for their interest in filial love. I even thought about pairing Jayatissa’s and Hobson’s books for the way they blur the lines between life and death. It turns out, the three books simply go well together. Why? For one thing, they’re all haunted in different ways. For another thing, they’re all dark novels that ask questions about family even as they call into question national and global narratives around race, gender, and economics. Also, they’re all simply impossible to put down.

I didn’t realize “techno-horror” was a thing until I started trying to explain why these two books work so well together. Techno-horror is a sub-genre of horror that places modern technology at the heart of its horror. While Yoon’s novel ultimately is more overtly in the horror camp, both novels raise some serious questions about the role of technology in our lives. Each book exhibits a deep concern about privacy, civil liberties, and the role of capitalism in the tech industry. Part of the concern around capitalism takes the form of acknowledging the utopian bent the tech industry outwardly displays…then smashing that to pieces. How each book smashes that facade is very different — you’ll just have to read them to find out.

Both of these books might be considered westerns, but in ways that are really interesting. They both follow protagonists who meander across the terrain of the western United States…but they also raise questions about citizenship, belonging, and nation. There’s also the added component of each text’s consideration of gender and sexuality in the stark landscape of the west (and everything that might entail in a variety of ways). Diaz’s novel is what I think of as a “quiet” read (despite the adventurous elements of the story), while Zhang’s is surprising in so many ways; both inspire contemplation and introspection.

These books all play with text and white space in really interesting ways. More than that, they each engage with a troubling aspect of U.S. American history. Yellow Rain grapples with the U.S. abandonment of Hmong refugees at the end of the conflict in Vietnam while from Unincorporated Territory and Whereas interrogate contemporary legacies of settler colonialism (in Guåhan and the U.S., respectively). These authors all incorporate historical and legal documents into their poetry, using archival evidence to underscore social justice issues tied to these histories. Somehow, with everything they’re working toward, the poems in these collections also manage to be, simply put, good.

Full disclosure: Twice a Quinceañera is expected to be published in July. Despite that, it’s the perfect partner to Dial A for Aunties. Both novels feature strong female protagonists who are still reeling from recent attempts at romance. They also play with weddings (and all of the social, cultural, and gendered meanings they entail) in really interesting and funny ways. And I have to mention that there’s a former heartthrob lingering in the wings of each storyline, which complicates everything really nicely in both books. The protagonists are worlds apart in their dispositions, but the challenges they struggle with are remarkably similar. Bonus: Sutanto just released a sequel to Dial A for Aunties called Four Aunties and a Wedding.

If you’re looking for a light but smart pairing, these are a great choice. Both novels feature characters who are relative outsiders to high society…and are also special. Moreno-Garcia’s Nina is a “talent” gifted with telekinetic power and Vo’s Jordan has a special power over paper craft. Each protagonist has to navigate the social perils of upper crust society even as they try to remain true to themselves. These novels are very different in many ways, but their captivating prose and peripheral magic make them a powerful pairing.

Both White Smoke and When No One is Watching take urban renewal and gentrification as the premise for their horror. Because they are, after all, both works of horror. In each book, it’s hard to say exactly what’s wrong with the nice facades and up-and-coming neighborhoods…except that there’s definitely something wrong. Very wrong. Creepily, dangerously wrong. And in both cases, the truth of the matter was (to this reader) surprising. More than that, it cuts really close to the bone in today’s urban landscape, feeling more unsettling in its proximity to reality than you might expect.

Just Us and Conditional Citizens are a perfect pair. Rankine, who is perhaps best known for her poetry, has written a powerful compilation of personal essays exploring what it means to be Black in U.S. America. Lalami, who has garnered much attention for her fiction, has crafted personal essays that delve into the myriad significances attached to citizenship. Both critically acclaimed writers weave together personal narratives, history, and politics to create important works of cultural criticism. These books are rich tapestries that use storytelling to engage with the current landscape of race (especially concerning white supremacy) and citizenship in the United States.