74 books like Southern Reach

I believe this book is one of the classic staples of surreal fiction. Its disjointed, spiraling narrative and sprawling non-linear plot lines challenge the definition of what a ‘book’ is. It uses everything from footnotes to text alignment to color schemes to make the act of reading itself increasingly difficult, which matches the house’s influence on the narrators’ memories and interests.

Reading it for me was like learning Latin or watching Casablanca–it gave context to decades of experimental media inspired by it, from TV shows to DOOM game mods. Love it or hate it, it’s a solid tool for any inhuman’s toolkit. 

It was a toss-up here between this book and The Scar, set in a different part of the same world. One of Miéville’s acknowledged influences is the wonderful Mervyn Peake, and like Peake, he’s never in a hurry to get a story underway.

I’d have probably tossed Perdido Street Station aside after 100-200 pages except for a friend’s fervent recommendation—and I’d have missed out big time if I had! Because the story as it develops is truly grand, truly epic. Like Peake, Miéville has a gift for raising action to a mythical status. I love, love, love a novel that builds up to a long, rolling, thunderous climax!

This is the least book-like book on this list, to the point where it’s difficult for me to even pitch the plot. In short, it’s a comic about four children who play a video game that turns out to have the power to destroy and reshape multiple universes.

The printed comic edition of the story is only one of several mediums it’s taken on, with the book acting as a translation for fragments of forum posts, web pages, animations, and even video games.

I added it because it rewrote my brain chemistry on what a story is, forcing me to confront how prose changes across mediums and accessibility. It’s the very definition of metafiction, and to me, it was worth it.

This is a 360-page, lushly detailed, fictional narrative about a ragtag collective of kidnapped humans struggling to survive the magical, capricious influence of the fae; technically, it is not a book; it’s a rulebook for my favorite dice-playing game.

Every aspect within the book, from the short stories about its goblin markets to its essays on emotion-based magic, ultimately sets up pieces of a world that confronts its themes of ‘what is humanity’ with reader participation. My partner and I roleplayed conflicts in a bar-themed after the book’s Spring Court.

I rolled dice with other fans online and argued over the results. I commissioned art of characters I’d based on the fae. Its intimate, interconnected stories deliberately blur the line between a book series and a game series, and in this, it makes being human feel magical.

I feel like the very premise of this book cuts right to the core of ‘what does it mean to be human’: the eponymous Hikaru dies on a mountain, but his body is consumed by a parasite that takes on his memories and identity. If this new version acts and thinks and looks like Hikaru, is he Hikaru? Do our memories make us ‘human,’ even when our bodies change? Can we learn to BE human?

As someone who’s experienced brain damage–and the memory loss and identity dissociation that came with it–this manga hit me deep in my soul. I’m so excited for the Netflix adaptation, and I’d recommend the book series to any new fans the show creates. 

If you want to keep abreast of the complex developments within recent biotechnology and especially synthetic biology, this is a very good read. In a comprehensive, informative, and yet personal manner, the authors give a recap and a diagnosis of the current status of this field and the emerging biotech market that they predict will be the next big business. And I agree.

The question is not if this will happen but how. This book comprehensively highlights some of the significant challenges that market-driven biological tinkering and data gathering will pose to humanity in terms of equality, ethics, human rights, and more.

As humans in 2025, we should all be aware of what is written in this book to have a chance to shape our lives as we wish or in order to understand the dilemmas our children will face.

I read this book as a teenager and had never read anything like it before. I did not even know it was possible to write books like this. Decades later, in 2025, you can read this as an example of the postmodernist, nonchalant assemblage style, an allegory of Russian politics in the 80s and early 90s, an absurdist Kafkaesque piece full of black humor—or best of all, as all three at the same time.

Regardless of how it is interpreted, the author's seamless transition between different scales is the most mind-opening aspect to me. The antagonists are first human but are seamlessly described as insects, and then the narrative seamlessly shifts back again.

When you finish the book, you may feel a bit unsure whether this was a magical tale or an account of reality. However, it is actually a rather detailed account of the period (1953–1970) in scientific history when the information age found its way into biology. This was a time when metaphors migrated from the realm of computing to descriptions of the human biological body.

Conducting new research requires new languages to test novel ideas and explore new perspectives. This fascinating subject is described in great detail in this book without ever becoming dry. As a researcher, I can attest that this is not easy to achieve.

Set in India, the central story traces the transformation of 80-year-old Ma, who is depressed after the death of her husband. Suddenly she decides to travel to Pakistan, confronting past traumas connected to the Partition riots. She is accompanied by Rosie, a hijra who is her best and wisest friend. The book is not just about its protagonists, but full of divertissements that tackle the meaning of relationships, memory, and time. There are also talking crows and a sequence of “performance art” when writers of the Partition take the page-as-stage.

Goytisolo’s narrative is about a fictitious poet. It is also about the truth about storytelling and the fundamental nature of truth. Different perspectives also conjure up a culture of “hysteria and persecution” surrounding the poet. Can we truly ever know anyone? The book is a perfect metaphor and parable for what happens when we mistake lies for undeniable facts.