18 books like Worldbreaker Saga

The doorway in this novel is a departure from the usual.

And though it is unusual, yet it ties to humankind's fascination with portals.

The first portal in storytelling history, really, is the threshold a person must pass through to get from life to death.

That threshold has been epitomized in mythology as long as human beings have been using stories to explain the strangeness of existence.

In this sci-fi story, death is once again the portal between worlds. What would you do if, right before you died, an alien entity asks if you’d like to be saved?

Would you do it?

That’s exactly what happens to Meredith Gale. She regrets jumping off that bridge, so she says yes.

The story that follows is surprising and witty and full of heart. A friendly robot pulls the girl from the sea, along with a dozen others like her, every one of… show more.

When a retired army infantryman knocks down a double brick wall in the basement of his new house, he discovers a doorway and a note pinned on the other side.

Fastened by a knife, the note tells the story of a man who lost his son in this portal. He bricked it up so no one would have to suffer as he has.

Does our soldier listen? Of course not.

Alex Hawke doesn’t go through the doorway unprepared, but he is certainly not ready for what he finds.

A tribe of giants who don't speak a lick of English. 

Massive pterodactyl-like creatures that make a concerted effort to quarter and eat him.

All Alex was trying to do by removing that brick wall was make his new house into a home for his young daughter.

Instead, he finds himself pulled through into another world, forced into the adventure of a… show more.

Have you ever read a sequel that was better than the first novel?

The Subtle Knife is that book for me.

While it falls in the middle of the complete trilogy known as His Dark Materials, The Subtle Knife takes the story in a new direction by centering it on a knife with the power to cut a path between worlds.

The series follows young Lyra, her daemon Pantalaimon, and Will, a boy she meets who happens to be from a parallel universe. The worldbuilding of this series is some of the best I’ve ever seen, and it truly sets these books apart.

The concept revolves around how Lyra and Pantalaimon are connected. They are two creatures who share a soul. Lyra’s a person, and Pantalaimon is her daemon (think “soul made manifest”) with the power to transform into a fox, hawk, lizard—or any animal he so chooses. At… show more.

Magical doors that appear out of nowhere, a fantastical book that may not be fiction, some truly sketchy villains, a quest, and an intrepid heroine.

The author had me at fantastical book, but what I love about this novel is the world and character building, that feeling of opening the cover and being somewhere that has nothing to do with ordinary life.

And yet, there is mystery. And romance. A lost father. A daring daughter. You’ll want to race through it, but slow down at the same time, just to savor the ride.

I couldn't put this gripping book down! I loved the plot twists, the complexity and ingenuity of its structure, the clever observations about human nature, the flawed protagonist and their character arc, the criticism of the real-world issues, and how original it was. The story is exciting and well-written, but its brilliant, non-linear narrative made it stand out the most.

It cleverly and mind-bendingly explores the meaninglessness and cruelty of war, inequality, class system, capitalism, exploitation, manipulation, and brainwashing. Even though it's gory, which is suitable for a story about war, human connection and taking care of each other play a crucial role. I really enjoyed the author's style and unique voice.

This story is set in an Arabic cyberpunk future in which the rest of the world has splintered into warring factions. Where you traditionally find the cityscapes of Gibson, here you have the Budayeen, with its narrow streets and souks, its bars and strip clubs abutting mosques, and the daily calls to prayer cutting through the cries of hawkers, gangsters, and unfortunate tourists.

Audran is the classic flawed detective: drug-addled and morally grey but with a cynicism that I can’t help but love. He is cowardly at times, brave at others, self-serving, and selfless—a character to get your teeth into! However, like many books written forty years ago, many female characters are unalived, and it’s gory in places, so be warned if that isn’t your taste.

In this book, Doris Lessing tells the story of the Lovatts, a perfectly normal middle-class English family with four children and a seemingly idyllic life. The idyll is spoiled when the wife, Harriet, becomes pregnant with her fifth child.

The novel tells the story of the child's (Ben’s) life until he is in his teenage years, but the early scenes that describe Harriet’s difficult pregnancy and her foreboding that something is deeply wrong with her unborn child are the ones that I find particularly sinister.

Here, Lessing shows how pregnancy can be an experience that wreaks unpredictable consequences on the smooth functioning of life. 

The unnamed protagonist of this book is a pregnant woman who has recently moved to the isolated Australian outback with her (pretty useless) husband. The couple have fled the city in part because of our narrator’s fear of a novel pandemic that is sweeping the land. As her pregnancy develops, skin cells replicating inside her body, the narrator fears that her fetus may harbour the virus.

This virus really speaks to my interest in difficult, gory pregnancies and births: cutis is an illness that causes the skin cells to hyperactively replicate, sealing over the body’s orifices and suffocating or starving its victims.

 While this book has a Wicker Man-style horror of small-town life, I particularly appreciate the way that its dystopian setting reflects and distills the anxieties that many women really experience during pregnancy. 

This book takes us into a space colony populated solely by females who live in a symbiotic relationship with their organic starship. The ship is their shelter and protector, and in return, the women birth tools and components that the ship needs to function.

I love the gory spectacle of these bloody, mechanical births but also how they allow Hurley to explore ideas about community, duty, and belonging. The book is part of a wider sensibility that can be found throughout Hurley’s work, but for my money, this is the one where her imaginative powers are most successfully harnessed. 

The novel presents a range of archival material, including graphical elements. The main account has an objective restraint that reads almost like a scientific report, which makes it moving at times. The main character Bella develops rapidly from a child-like state into a mature woman and way her language and insight progresses is skillfully handled.

I found it fascinating how reasonable-sounding scientific ideas can become barbaric actions. The novel is multi-layered, with competing narratives and Bella undermining most of what appears in the Lanthimos film, Poor Things. In the end, I was left in a state of exhilarated confusion and went to read it all again.