184 books like Mistborn

This was my first introduction to Sanderson’s work, and I knew within a few pages that we were going to be a good fit. I’d just gotten off of reading through Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, and the “multiple POVs” angle of the book was a big pull for me.

The frankly bizarre world of the book (and the series of which this is book 1, The Stormlight Archive) was so full of strange creatures and patterns–so studded with interesting, resourceful characters–that I couldn’t put it down over the course of days to finish it.

It would be the most extreme of criminal acts for this beloved book not to be my ‘list topper!’ Reading this book instilled an instant love of good fantasy storytelling in me early on. It defines the fantasy genre, exemplifying the absolute best extremes in great world-building, characters, and epic storytelling.

Tolkien set the high bar I strive for in all areas in my own writing with one of the most memorable stories in one of the most unforgettable worlds of all time … and he managed to pull it all off within the context of a single book! No matter how many times I go back and re-read this one, I find something new to cherish, and you will too!

I’ve read The Name of the Wind twice, and each time it feels like sitting down to hear a bard weave his life into song.

Kvothe isn’t perfect—he’s brilliant, arrogant, reckless—but that’s why I believe him. Rothfuss’s prose has a rhythm that lingers in my head like music. What struck me most wasn’t the magic or mystery, but the small human moments: playing the lute for coins, hungering for knowledge, fumbling through mistakes.

For me, it was less about answers and more about the act of telling one’s story, flaws and all.

I can’t remember if I read WOT or GOT first… but this book was one of my entries into epic fantasy.

It begins with normal people trying to figure out something they can’t fully understand, and fearing being powerless in the face of what’s coming. Jordon really takes his time to slowly build the world, but even then, it feels like it is already established, and it is the reader who is new here.

What made it memorable was the way it balanced massive stakes with human fragility. It explores the theme that power isn’t always just a gift or a curse; it can be a burden that costs the wielders and those who are in orbit of it.

This entire series was amazing. Okay, a few of the books were a bit slow, but overall, it was great. The new worlds, the political intrigue, everything about this story was great. There were histories that drove the characters that were only hinted at or mentioned in passing, but they brought life to them. Just like we are all shaped by our past, our countries, and our places in society, so are all the characters in this book.

My favorite character wasn’t Paul, though; it was Duncan Idaho. I was so sad when he was killed, but I was fascinated when they brought him back from the dead in the second book and others because Herbert made it so interesting. The bodyguard programmed, created even, to kill the one he once died to protect. Now, that’s some drama right there. 😊 

The twists, turns, and world-building were amazing. I learned… show more.

What truly is there left to say about this masterpiece of classic fantasy that hasn’t been said a million times already?

After devouring the light appetizer that is The Hobbit, my teenage imagination was utterly blown away by what I only later understood to be the quintessential blueprint for nearly everything that’s followed throughout the years in this genre.

The sheer level of minute detail and painstakingly developed mythos is nothing short of a masterclass in world-building—a must-have skill for writing this kind of epic tale—but it was the story itself, with its core principles of friendship, loyalty, and sacrifice, that resonated so deeply with me.

I love this book because Tolkien took the fantasy genre to a new, unprecedented level, resurrecting ancient legends of old, with countless mythical creatures.

His magnificent characters defined their races, occupations, and even their languages, later inspiring the game, Dungeons and Dragons, of which I was once a Dungeon Master. Many of The Fellowship serve messianic roles. Gandalf, for example, conquers death following his battle with a demon, and Stryder, an obscure ranger, turns out to be Aragorn, heir of the fallen kingdom.

Tolkien captures keen insight into the human condition regarding the struggle against sin. He also whispers a mystery; while an evil wizard created the One Ring to rule them all, a hidden, even more powerful force is clearly behind the ring’s eventual destruction.

When I strapped in to read Red Rising, I was mentally prepared for a modern Dune-style space opera, complete with a chosen-one arc. But what kept me turning pages was Darrow’s humanity.

I was thrilled to discover how he breaks, rebuilds, and keeps fighting to become more than the system that made him. I loved that it refused to give me a perfect hero. Every victory costs something, and every choice leaves a scar.

It reminded me that courage doesn’t always look noble—sometimes it’s messy, angry, and uncertain. But that’s what makes it real.

This book made me feel the weight of change and how hard it is to stay kind while tearing down what’s broken.

This was the first fantasy book that made me afraid for its characters and helped me understand that fantasy is allowed to feel realistic.

Up until this point, the types of books I was reading were very paint-by-numbers, but here the stakes felt real because no one was safe... not even the ones who seemed typical fantasy rules were untouchable.

What stuck with me wasn’t the true-to-form fantasy bits (dragons/battles), but how human the characters felt. In this world, loyalty is a death sentence... love is dangerous, and power always comes with a price.

I’m not the biggest Sanderson fan. I like his books, but I don’t have a wing of my library dedicated to him. But Skyward in particular stands out to me. It’s a much more personal story.

Spensa is socially inept, misunderstood, and hot-headed. I loved that because I got to see her grow through struggle and failure like a regular person.

I’m not usually a fan of stories told in the first person either, but seeing the world through her eyes as she learned what courage actually means made the story impossible to put down. It reminded me that growth doesn’t come from destiny; it comes from persistence and the willingness to change, often at great cost.

This book made me cheer for someone who felt real in all the best and most frustrating ways.