The best books to kick-start the best mind-blowing sci-fi-fantasy-alternate-world trilogies

I love a book that makes me laugh. But if I immediately feel guilty or disturbed for laughing, if the story makes me re-examine my values page after page, that is a home run.

This – the first of the Dancers at the End of Time series of books and short stories – had me pondering the boundaries of scientific reality as well as right versus wrong while also being galactically entertained.

The (objectively awful) main characters are time- and space-hopping immortals. Virtually all-powerful, they can change their own appearance and environment at will. When one of them decides to experiment with the concept of Love…everything, and nothing, starts to change.

A vicious, delicious satire of unchecked indulgence that tests the bounds of good taste.

In my experience, long-form humor writing often loses its whammy before the finish line. It becomes tired or repetitive. Satire as well: cynicism can curdle when presented at length.

But not this book and its many sequels (a trilogy of five, says the author). This is a delirious, Monty Pythonesque satire of all things bureaucratic, philosophical – even sci-fi itself. Example: At the end of Chapter 3 of this first volume, Earth is destroyed by the Vogons, government flunkies of an alien species (and the universe’s worst poets) to make way for a hyperspace expressway.

My friends and I would have rambling conversations inspired by this book – all the time shaking our heads at how unlikely any serious discussion could be inspired by such out-of-this-world goofiness.

Dragon riders! Heroic quests! A flawed hero! Schools of magic!

The Earthsea trilogy has to be considered, alongside Lord of the Rings, as a template-setter for all the fantasy epics that have followed. What I loved about it, instantly, was the contrast in style to Tolkien’s book. Tolkien’s writing is ornate, his story epic. Leguin’s books, however, are short and lean with prose like a polished gem.

It inspired the style I aspire to in my own writing: slim, elegant prose, not a wasted word. And characters with flaws. In this first book, we follow Ged, a new student at a school of wizardry. In a rash action born of ego and power-greed, Ged unleashes a dark spirit, then must undo the wrong he’s done.

Female action heroes were rare-to-nonexistent when this book was published in 1979.

I will boast that I was slightly ahead of my time (or at least my friends) in embracing this novel’s intrepid protagonists. Get this: the two women, a captain and a navigator, are piloting an interstellar exploration vessel when they discover a planetoid. They set down on its surface.

The planetoid, Titan, is a living entity that proceeds to destroy the ship and devour the crew alive. Our two heroes are examined and expelled, though now physically transformed. They proceed to explore this bizarre planet-entity.

I just love (and as a writer, aspire to craft) a novel this bizarre, lively, and head-spinning, continually confounding expectations from page to page. The First of the Gaea Trilogy.

Nothing about this book, or the His Dark Materials series, should appeal to me: Talking polar bears? Witches? A protypically cynical, devil-may-care adventurer?

But any thoughts of “children's book” faded when I encountered the book’s dark heart—as in parent-trying-to kill-perfectly-lovely-child kind of dark. Setting his saga in a steampunk variation of Victorian England, Author Pullman is deadly serious.

I often wrestle with issues of spirituality, fate, and the role of religion, and with this trilogy I found much to enjoy and think about. The religion vs. science theme might strike some as heretical, but I find it intriguing and thought provoking. And the world-building offers much to surprise:  every character has a has a daemon, an animal that shares her soul and serves as a guide and companion.