The best fantasy novels that reimagine society

In Dragaera, the fortunes of the seventeen Great Houses are determined by the Cycle, which elevates royalty, merchants, artisans, wizards, the mob, and even peasants as it turns.

The Cycle takes thousands of years to turn… but Dragaerans live thousands of years. Easterners, like Vlad Taltos, are lucky to see a hundred, and they can’t be members of the Great Houses. Except the House of the Jhereg, which sells titles.

They’re the mob; and Vlad, Baronet of Taltos, is an assassin. JHEREG and its many sequels are constantly exploring the social dynamics underlying this situation; as an Easterner with a bought title, Vlad doesn’t fit in with either Easterners or Dragaeran nobles, and choosing sides can mean destroying relationships or putting his life on the line.

In the 21st century, you occasionally hear about libertarian fantasies of floating island civilizations free from the pesky laws of nation-states.

They always bring me back to China Miéville’s pirate city of Armada, which is the opposite of a libertarian fantasy; it’s a city populated by the kidnapped, ruled by contentious factions, and steered through the seas with a weird purpose.

The Scar’s main character is a linguist, unsure if she’s been brought to Armada to put her own skills to use or as collateral damage in the kidnapping of another character, and unsure how to relate to a city that she’s growing more comfortable in even as she can’t forget it holds her prisoner.

Also everyone has to donate blood to feed the vampires. Socialism!

This book is about how trauma can force you to choose between memory and sanity… and how this problem gets worse when you live in a society of telepaths.

Said telepaths are the mer-person descendants of enslaved Africans who threw themselves off the boats from Africa to the Americas, but the emotional core of the book makes the deep weirdness of the premise pretty much an afterthought. 

The action in this book begins when Severian, an apprentice in the Torturers’ Guild, gives a convict a weapon to kill herself rather than be tortured.

The reason there’s a Torturers’ Guild is, allegedly, that it beats prison: Better to deliver a punishment and then let the punished person return to their life, the thinking goes, than confine them to a useless existence as a ward of the state. Severian is expelled from the Guild, but not from the profession, and wanders the world plying his trade, at least until the plot can’t spare him.

It’s a constant dissonance, looking through the eyes of a character whose training and purpose is the infliction of pain, who seems so decent and forthright in the story he narrates. (But don’t be fooled.)

Monstress is an awful lot of things: An epic fantasy that confronts the horrors of modern war; a work of fusion that marries Western and Eastern aesthetics and the epic scale of George R. R. Martin with the cosmic and body horror of Junji Ito; an incredible trove of beautiful visual art; a stage for women of all kinds, young and old, beautiful and monstrous, weak and powerful, with and without shark heads; and a story about a girl coming to grips with a dark family legacy and what it means for her place in a bloody, painful world.

More than anything else, it’s about what happens when people use each other. For my money, the best epic fantasy currently being published in any form.