30 books like Vlad Taltos

I love the cunning, wit, and charm of the one-and-only Vlad Taltos. Though he’s an assassin, he’s never cruel or wicked; he merely does what he needs to appease the “mafia-feeling” organization he works for. He’s almost more a swashbuckling rogue than a killer.

In his interactions with his familiar, Loiosh, you see his more nuanced side, the morality beneath the magic and swordplay. And few fantasy worlds I’ve ever visited have been as rich and colorful as those created in the Vlad Taltos series. 

This is my favorite type of space opera: bigger-than-life characters, tons of action, with great sense of wonder and a world full of surprises. The women characters are excellent, as well.

There is a touch of fantasy in this series that I found sparked a hint of the numinous.

Marketed as historical novels, this series, besides being accurate, full of action and brilliant characterizations, and a roller coaster emotionally, is a deep immersion into the era of the tall ships.

It’s also subtly fantasy, though not marketed as fantasy. There are psychic elements, and later in the series O’Brian admitted that he’s writing in a sort of endless 1812. It’s really less of a series than one long story divided into volumes.

How often have I heard, “Oh, Q. W. Aardvark’s fantasy is awesome, but you really need to read all 8,326 books in the series to get it”! How about no? Fortunately, I learned the secret of Pratchett’s Discworld series: each novel is freestanding.

I like this book because it’s like a cynical, bitter uncle who secretly has a teddy bear—despite the outward grime and gloom of the setting, there’s a hilarious wit, punning, and barrage of pop references underlying the story that gives it a heart. It’s fantasy for those who don’t think they like it.

This book inspired my love of sci-fi romance. I adore the characters and the deceptively simple premise. Cordelia Naismith is a badass survey captain stranded on a wild planet with only her enemy, Aral Vorkosigan, known as The Butcher of Komarr, for company.

As they trek through the wilderness, Cordelia gets to know Aral and realizes her assumptions about him are all wrong. Originally published in 1986, this book launches the Vorkosigan Saga—my favorite sci-fi series. What I love about this book is how Bujold takes the time to let Cordelia and Aral get to know each other as people and bond on a deep emotional and intellectual level. They may be on opposite sides of a war, but they recognize the humanity in each other.

Monstress is an awful lot of things: An epic fantasy that confronts the horrors of modern war; a work of fusion that marries Western and Eastern aesthetics and the epic scale of George R. R. Martin with the cosmic and body horror of Junji Ito; an incredible trove of beautiful visual art; a stage for women of all kinds, young and old, beautiful and monstrous, weak and powerful, with and without shark heads; and a story about a girl coming to grips with a dark family legacy and what it means for her place in a bloody, painful world.

More than anything else, it’s about what happens when people use each other. For my money, the best epic fantasy currently being published in any form.

The action in this book begins when Severian, an apprentice in the Torturers’ Guild, gives a convict a weapon to kill herself rather than be tortured.

The reason there’s a Torturers’ Guild is, allegedly, that it beats prison: Better to deliver a punishment and then let the punished person return to their life, the thinking goes, than confine them to a useless existence as a ward of the state. Severian is expelled from the Guild, but not from the profession, and wanders the world plying his trade, at least until the plot can’t spare him.

It’s a constant dissonance, looking through the eyes of a character whose training and purpose is the infliction of pain, who seems so decent and forthright in the story he narrates. (But don’t be fooled.)

The main reason I'd like to be friends with Seth Brown is, well, he's a Messiah. He can heal me if I cut myself, he can resurrect me in the event of my untimely death—though by all accounts the afterlife is rather, ahem, pleasant, so I might fight him on that—and he can turn tap water into a perfect cup of coffee. His resurrected arctic fox friend is an excellent ally, but Seth could use another human to help track down the vile bishop who's killing off his half-brothers in an effort to eliminate all but the one-and-only True Messiah. Or, on second thought, maybe I'd stay out of the line of fire by getting a job at the local Ducky Mar....

I have so much admiration for witch Paige Winterbourne, who has had a teenage ward named Savannah thrust upon her, when Paige herself is barely out of teenagerhood. Paige's coven disowns her, even as evil forces are trying to woo Savannah, and get Paige out of the way by framing her for murder. I have zero patience for their lack of support. It's no wonder Paige is forced to accept the help of the terribly persistent young lawyer who ought to be her archenemy. He's a sorcerer, and sorcerers never have the best interests of witches in mind. Especially the heir of one of the most powerful cabals. I would help Paige communicate with a teenager. Moreover, I would take Savannah out for lunch so Paige can... communicate with her lawyer.

Royce Melborn is exactly the assassin I’d expect: scowling, suspicious, irritable, prone to violence, and scarred by hard life. So, of course, he ends up forming a team with Hadrian Blackwater, the most cheerful, upbeat swordsman in the world.

The “mismatched friends” and “grumpy/sunshine” flavor of the story was immensely fun—reminiscent of all my favorite buddy cop TV shows and movies—and did a wonderful job of anchoring me to these two characters as they fought their way through a world determined to harm them.

The dynamic between the characters is mirrored by a twisty-turny plot, a fascinatingly detailed world, and an epic storyline that kept me turning the pages to find out what came next.