9 books like The Weep

This is probably my favorite book of all time, from my favorite series of all time, The Vorkosigan Saga. Miles Vorkosigan, spy and accidental leader of a mercenary fleet, comes face to face with his mortality when he’s injured during a mission. As he recovers, he has to rebuild his life and his identity and find a new purpose in an empire that prizes warriors—a long-running challenge for this diminutive disabled hero. Meanwhile, one of his mentors, spymaster Simon Illyan, is dealing with a threat that could not only unravel his own life but decades’ worth of the Empire’s secrets. It’s funny, tense, and touching all at turns; I can’t think of that many sci-fi adventures that will have you laughing and crying. 

Okay, it’s the second book in the tremendously popular series The Expanse (perhaps you’ve heard of this little series turned TV show), but it’s also my favorite. That’s because Corey ramps up the intrigue as Mars, Earth, and the Belt find themselves enmeshed in an open war that has some decidedly murky underpinnings. This volume also introduces two of the series' best and most memorable characters: Martian marine Bobbie Draper and savvy Earth politician Chrisjen Avasarala. The book kicks off with a bang, and doesn’t let up, concluding with perhaps one of the most page-turning action sequences I’ve ever read.

I love a good space opera, and John Scalzi’s second to none in that department. In some ways, this book (and the two that follow it in The Interdependency series) remind me of the original Foundation, as an immense space empire under a new and untried leader struggles to come to terms with an imminent catastrophe that could bring it to its knees. I personally found the foul-mouthed and irreverent Lady Kiva Lagos a particular delight, as a force of nature that bulls her way through any obstacle. 

I love the hooky concept at this book’s heart: Mahit Dzmare is the new Lsel ambassador sent to the heart of the enormous Teixcalaanli galactic empire to maintain her tiny space station’s independence; but on arrival, she discovers her predecessor was murdered.

Now, she must not only act the diplomat, but she must also solve the murder without offending the very empire that at any moment could swallow her people whole.

The intricate-but-lightly-done world-building further helps bring this book to stunning life as Mahit walks a wobbly tightrope between asking difficult questions and preventing her very dangerous hosts from taking offence even as the politics take a dark turn, which threatens her life and everything she holds dear.

In Kolkata, India, a college professor agrees to transcribe a stranger’s collection of notebooks, old parchments, and scribbles on human skins. 

Through his translations, the reader learns about a race of werewolf-like creatures that eat humans and absorb their memories and souls in the process. One such creature, Fenrir, fathers a child by a human woman out of a desire to create life instead of destroying it. 

This book contains a lot of violence but through the eyes of the shapeshifters, the reader gets a sharp look at gender fluidity and relationships between sexes. What I remember most from the book is Fenrir’s point of view being both unnerving and thought-provoking. He’s devoured the knowledge of many humans yet he can’t differentiate between love and hate.

I am a sucker for an unusual world-build, but I also love a good morally grey hero.

Harmon delivers both. Most of civilization exists underground with a frozen wasteland above, with populations gathered into politically discrete city-states.

The magic is half chemistry, half alchemy, and unique. Our protagonist, Ig, is an elemental bound to the service of one of those city rulers, forced by that binding to kill (or whatever else he's told). He wants to be free. And that's about where you can stop imagining you know how this story will go.

The tale is dark, violent, intricate, and grimly delightful, but there's a bright sliver of hope: just enough, anyway, to show you how dark the shadows are. 

I love a good re-imagined fairytale, and Tidbeck delivers...except it's more like she took all the fairy tales, smashed them, and reassembled them in a mosaic that's both familiar and alien at the same time.

Dora and Thistle are two among many children trapped in the Garden, servants to the fairy-like overlords who, when those children grow up, will eat them. Dora and Thistle escape, but so does one of the wicked overlords....

The prose is gorgeous, and the story is all the things fairytales should be: magical, terrifying, fantastic, with journeys and helpers and—well. I won't tell you if the ending is happy or not. Read to the end and find out. 

Shapeshifting lizard people. Oh. You want me to say something else?

How about... a world like no other, peopled by all manner of beings (but no humans, which is honestly a delight). The setting is so fantastic, but also so meticulously designed—every settlement and civilization feels organic, fully realized, and unlike anything else. But what about the story—?

Moon doesn't know where he's from, but he knows he's the only shapeshifter he's ever met, and the only person with wings...and worse, he thinks he's part of the terrible Fell, a species that seems to be invasive and hostile and looks a lot like him.

Then he meets another Raksura, and learns how wrong he's been about everything, including himself. 

This book is both a fascinating vision of a tumultuous world and a deep dive into the mind of a troubled and compelling protagonist.

The character work in this book is incredibly impressive, with the long arc of the protagonist’s development drawn in convincing and gripping detail that left me feeling like I had known this person for years through all their triumphs, tragedies, and mistakes, which is to say nothing of its creative and plausible magic, its socio-political commentary, and its meditation on family and grief. Rightfully recognized as a modern classic, it is a book all fans of fantasy should read.