I’ve often found myself listening to a song so captivating that I can’t help but play it on repeat, wishing I could tattoo the lyrics in my mind. When I’ve played a certain artist’s discography to death and somehow still can’t get enough, I sometimes find myself wishing I could lose myself in a book that makes me feel the same way music does. Leaning into this all-too-familiar urge, I’ve compiled a list of titles that I would recommend to anyone who enjoys some of the same music as I do. These recommendations draw upon various aspects of the artists’ works — prevailing themes, lyricism, aesthetics, and above all, the feeling their music instills in the listener.
Mitski
If you’re a fan of Mitski’s oftentimes heartwrenching music, the titles I would recommend are “Never Let Me Go” by Kazuo Ishiguro and “The Bluest Eye” by Toni Morrison.
“Never Let Me Go” follows the story of a woman reflecting on her childhood and the memories, relationships and dreams that defined it. As the story progresses, it becomes clear that the protagonist and her childhood friends never stood a chance at leading the lives they hoped for, which is exactly why they must hold onto each other so tightly. If “I Bet on Losing Dogs” were a book, it would be this one — though the characters are doomed by the narrative, you’ll find yourself cheering them on anyway, endeared by their ability to cling to what little hope they have.
“The Bluest Eye” is the story of Pecola, an eleven-year-old Black girl growing up in 1940s Ohio. Pecola’s deepest wish is that her eyes will turn blue so that the world will care for her like they care for white children. It’s a deeply disturbing but absolutely necessary exploration of race, beauty and abuse. Much like Mitski’s music, it offers astute observations about the world in a way that cuts straight to the heart.
Ethel Cain
Daughters of Cain (as Hayden Anhedönia, a.k.a Ethel Cain, has coined her fans) will enjoy “Brutes” by Dizz Tate and “Sharp Objects” by Gillian Flynn.
“Brutes” follows a gaggle of pre-teen girls orbiting around the daughter of their local preacher, until she suddenly goes missing. Set amidst the suffocating heat of small-town Florida, it bears a striking similarity to Ethel Cain’s album “Preacher’s Daughter,” which spins the haunting story of a young woman’s disappearance from her deeply religious Southern hometown.
“Sharp Objects” follows the story of journalist Camille Preaker as she returns to her hometown of Wind Gap, Missouri to write about the mysterious disappearances and murders of two young girls. The book explores the circumstances of the grisly murders and the secrets that haunt the people of Wind Gap, including Camille’s family. Many aspects of this psychological thriller — toxic family dynamics, gruesome violence of both the physical and psychological varieties and troubled female main characters with unhealthy coping mechanisms — are very similar to those prevalent in Ethel Cain’s work. In fact, the singer has confessed to having watched the TV adaptation of “Sharp Objects” multiple times.
Frank Ocean
My recommendations for fans of Frank Ocean are “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” by Ocean Vuong and “Mayflies” by Andrew O’Hagan — both books that, much like Frank Ocean’s narrative-driven discography, are short but powerful.
Through a series of letters from a son to his mother, “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” stares unflinchingly into the many issues that young people grapple with today — race, sexuality, addiction and generational trauma. Every bit is as beautiful as it is heartbreaking.
“Mayflies” is another tearjerker. Set in 1980s Britain, the story revolves around a group of boys on the cusp of adulthood as they embark on a euphoric weekend in Manchester. Thirty years later, an impending tragedy brings the friends together again when it matters most. An ode to the joys of youth and a reckoning with the inevitability of mortality, “Mayflies” pulses with the same tenderness and sorrow that Frank Ocean’s music does. It’s the type of book that sneaks up on you and leaves you staring at the ceiling, like listening to “White Ferrari” for the first time.
Hozier
Hozier’s music reminds me of “Katabasis” by R.F. Kuang and “Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit” by Jeannette Winterson.
Both Hozier’s “Unreal Unearth” and Kuang’s “Katabasis” draw inspiration from Dante Alighieri’s “Inferno,” the classic story of the hero’s descent through the nine circles of hell. In “Katabasis,” the main character must make the same journey to retrieve the soul of her academic advisor after a freak accident takes his life. Surreal and sharply critical of the abuses of academia and structural oppression, “Katabasis,” like Hozier’s lyrics, cuts deeply into issues simmering below the surface.
“Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit” is the story of a young woman brought up in a devoutly religious household with the understanding that she will lead the life of a missionary until she falls in love with a girl she was meant to convert. In the same vein as “Take Me to Church,” the book addresses the homophobia that plagues religious communities and shows how love transcends the hatred that may be taught to us.