8 books like John Cleaver

Rarely do I find a sequel as good as the first book. 

When clever ideas from the first book peter out, sequels lose their freshness and sense of wonder, turning them into stale, unremarkable remakes. Then, my fandom for the author diminishes as well. Despite my enthusiastic admiration of Sanborn’s creative prowess, I couldn’t finish the Mistborn sequel for that very reason.

Words of Radiance worldbuilding is a notable exception. It keeps digging deeper and grows more and more complex.  Similarly, the characters continue to evolve.

For me, character growth and worldbuilding drive a story more than any other factors. Thus, the plot resolution to Words of Radiance was surprisingly satisfying precisely because of this strong foundation.

This book takes the tired and worn trope surrounding mankind’s search for the fountain of youth, twists it violently, and asks, “What if this were viable, although exorbitantly expensive, tech?” I loved not only this fresh, original angle, but Morgan’s thoughtful treatment of it.

With immersive world-building and a gritty protagonist, Altered Carbon dragged me through a truly surprising and original murder mystery that kept me guessing through the final reveal – though it wasn’t the murder plot that kept me hanging on.

Morgan’s not-particularly-likeable protagonist not only darkened the story, he pressured me to revisit difficult moral questions and to reconsider them from his perspective. He pulled me into the story, shook my moral compass, and then made me believe that perspective was standard in his world.

This book quickly immersed me into its alien culture, mysterious science, and surprisingly impactful character development – I was nearly an instant fan of this superbly fresh approach to interstellar combat.

I love space fiction and its myriad of conflicts arising from exploring new worlds, but apart from rare standout exceptions, I feel that a military focus weighs down a story and handicaps it with deafeningly overworn tropes.

Halo was the first military read that never left me drifting from the story because of thoughtless tropes or corny dialogue. Instead, it kept me engaged through continual mysteries, worldbuilding, and a fresh take on personal growth within a military framework.

I found the books vastly different from the film adaptations, but they were also a surprisingly fresh compliment to one another.

I love finding a new series that hits all my favourite urban fantasy points – smart, funny, peopled with delightfully weird and very uncool characters, and it’s set anywhere in the UK outside London (nothing against London, it’s just fun to read about somewhere different). C.K. McDonnell’s The Stranger Times hits all of these, plus is partly inspired by actual news stories from around the world (some clippings included, and the author’s podcast covers a lot more). This is a pure joy to read, and I’m definitely looking at Manchester a little differently now...

Possibly the most perfect fusion of horror and the workplace, the Laundry Files books show us a bureaucratic British intelligence service where even reading a training manual wrong will result in your brains leaking out of your ears. A fusion of Cold War spy novels and Cthulhu-ish horror, The Atrocity Archive introduces us to put-upon spy/clerk Bob Howard. It’s uncertain whether endless form filling, petty managers, or horrors from the dark side of the moon are most likely to drive him mad.

Even the simplest jobs can turn out to be horrible. George and Lou are the nicest, most amiable underworld thugs you could meet. They just want to get their delivery job done and then go out for some beers and bowling. Except, the thing they don’t know is that their delivery consignment is a very angry werewolf. When it escapes, they are forced into a cat-and-mouse chase across Florida. No paycheck can be worth the horror and torment that Jeff Strand’s bloody comedy puts them through.

This horror novel about a haunted IKEA-like store is playful and fun in every way—from its inventive narrative structure to the book’s mimicry of an IKEA catalogue, complete with a store map and advertisements for furniture that become increasingly deranged.

During daylight, Orsk is a regular furniture store in the suburbs of Cleveland, but when several employees attempt to stay overnight to find out why products keep getting damaged, the building’s dark history begins to bleed into the present. This book perfectly captures the uncanny way nighttime makes familiar landscapes, such as stores and schools, seem entirely unfamiliar, a phenomenon that has always fascinated me. 

Although heists and team-driven stories are difficult to mess up, I rarely find a gem with fun, snarky, and interesting characters like those delivered by Bardugo.

Clever banter effortlessly drives the storyline from beginning to end. When you start to feel the characters are proving to be one-dimensional and predictable, they begin to change and evolve (albeit a bit slowly for my tastes), which made for a surprisingly satisfying read (I’m including book two in this observation).

Worldbuilding is intelligent enough to keep you trusting the author when you grow concerned that the ending will be unrealistically implausible. Okay, maybe that last observation is my personal pet peeve with modern authors, but Six of Crows pulled off the credibility factor reasonably well.