I didn’t intend to write a book about an angry woman.

After all, furious, embittered characters—despite much progress—often remained the province of men. To write an angry woman was to risk her becoming Unlikeable, a nebulous state of being still somehow able to deliver the killing blow to reader enjoyment.

This character, however, emerged with spikes, hissing and spitting and howling mad about the rank injustice filling her world. Not only did she feel and express anger, she was fueled by it, driven by the heinous sins committed against her sister, spurring her to leave normalcy and decency behind forever. After all, politesse hadn’t shifted the tides, had it? As in life, those in power continued to abuse it, up until they were stopped, forcibly.

Anger was the key. Beyond the locked doors of propriety, liberation waited.

So did agency. She became a vigilante, known by the alias Lady Justice, surviving off caffeine, help from her smoking-hot partner in crime, and the knowledge that the world could be different. That she could make it different—through sleight of hand, or sheer force of will—whatever the situation required. She could shapeshift and torch the unjust status quo before people knew what hit them, leaving ashes and destruction in her wake. A small price to pay for rebalancing the cosmic scales, were you to ask her.

Thankfully, Lady Justice’s footsteps were well trod. Here are the books that helped me find the courage to write a book about a woman who’s not afraid to burn it all down.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

“Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.”

Amy Dunne has reached her breaking point, and the midpoint twist in this novel is delicious and quite possibly one of the finest in the thriller genre. I gobbled up her “postmortem” manifesto like it was sweet manna from heaven and reveled in reading a female character so unapologetically pissed off. Gone Girl is a delightfully twisted entry to the Good for Her pantheon.

Out by Natsuo Kirino

“Hate: that’s what you call this feeling. The thought occurred to Yayoi Yamamoto as she looked at her naked, thirty-four-year-old body in the full-length mirror. Right near her solar plexus was a conspicuous dark blue bruise. Her husband had punched her there last night, and with the blow a new feeling had risen inside her.”

Out is a gutsy, unflinching look at what lengths a group of women will go to protect themselves in the face of degradation and violence. Kirino effortlessly slips into multiple points of view telling the story of a woman in the Tokyo suburbs after she murders her abusive husband and enlists the help of her coworkers in covering up the crime. The murder is only the beginning, and the narrative unfolds like a slow-rolling nightmare, masterfully plotted and saturated with tension. In my humble opinion, it’s a masterpiece, but reader beware, this story is not for the faint of heart.

They Never Learn by Layne Fargo

“Kinnear has never looked at me like this—really looked at me. In all the years I’ve known him, eye contact was always a brief stopover on the way to ogling my tits, my ass. Reducing me to parts. This wild-eyed fear is the closest thing to respect he’s ever paid me.

Too little, far too late.”

Dr. Scarlett Clark, university professor and serial killer, murders the worst of the worst on Gorman University’s campus, ridding the world of men who prey on women. Her next target is someone in her own department and the riskiest one yet. Meanwhile, we also meet Carly, freshman at Gorman, relieved to be free of her emotionally abusive father for the first time in her life. These two storylines converge in the most satisfying, unexpected way and I simply could not put this book down. Fargo’s prose is crisp and incisive, and Dr. Clark is the hero we deserve and the one we need.

My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite

“How can a man be so obtuse? The frustration I feel is like a gas bubble in my chest, and I cannot control the need to burp.

‘No, I mean it—she will hurt you. Physically! She has hurt people—guys—before.’”

My Sister, the Serial Killer—besides having the best title—is an incredibly funny, dark, rollicking read. Set in Nigeria, it follows two sisters: one who murders, one who aids and abets. Beautiful Ayoola has a bad habit of killing the men she dates, but her many admirers, awed by her looks, never see her coming. Korede, meanwhile, has helped Ayoola escape punishment for her crimes, but how far will she go to protect her when a man she loves winds up in her sister’s crosshairs? At only 228 pages, this book packs a hefty punch in a small package, exploring the themes of loyalty, the ever-shifting balance of power between the sexes, and what happens when the balance is suddenly, violently upended.

Jane Doe by Victoria Helen Stone

“I feel a wild urge to grab a knife and end this now. He’s naked and helpless and out cold, and I could carve him into a puzzle of gore.”

Jane Doe is a hilarious, sardonic romp through the lands of revenge, told from a singular point of view: “Jane” the sociopath, who comes rolling into the Midwest to avenge her best friend’s suicide. Fueled by rage and despair at losing the one person she shared a human connection with, Jane expertly manipulates herself into her opponent’s tidy, Nice Guy life, determined to destroy him the way he emotionally abused and destroyed her best friend. Stone takes blistering aim at the gross hypocrisy filling Steve’s religious circles— “You’re a tease or a whore. A heartless denier or a Jezebel. Their penises are God’s divining rods, searching out evil” —and Jane’s final act of retribution is one for the ages. Read if you like razor sharp humor with your Good for Her books.

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