100 Books Like All the Colors of Love

I laughed out loud and had moments of deep philosophical reflection, normally at the same time, with this book. I loved the clever and deep meanings and parodies of faith and the divine. I think that this book taught me to always take things with a pinch of salt, and I started thinking critically because of it.

I could not stop reading it and devoured the other books in the series and I think this is one of my favourite authors. I am inspired to emulate some aspects of the author’s thinking and this book is why. 

I felt awe-struck stepping into Gaea’s hollow world—where zeppelin-sized blimps glide through a sky inside the giant, planet-like being, and forests and rivers hang overhead. Gaea feels both grand and intimate: cathedral-scale biology paired with tavern-table camaraderie. 

And then there are the titanides. Their society feels hand-tooled—full of music and unpretentious sensuality. No posturing, no greed, just beings who live in balance. The centaur-like titanides dwell beneath a colossal tree hung with lanterns… and it all feels alien and warm and cozy and wonderful. 

The book starts small(ish).

A single starship crewed by three different species and captained by a human explores space using a series of wormholes created by… whom, exactly? No one knows.

Then an unknown ship with no visible propulsion system drops out of a wormhole and we're catapulted into an adventure that brings us to the mind-twisting origins of the universe as we know it.
Rob Sawyer lives across the river from me in Canada, and we ran into each other at several local science fiction conventions.

He gave me a copy of Starplex, and I accepted it with a vague, “I look forward to reading it.” I didn’t actually intend to. But a couple weeks later, I idly flipped it open and started reading—and couldn’t stop.

I guess we have a theme because this second book is also a story in which a woman discovers unusual powers and must use them to outsmart a cunning man who seeks to dominate her. It’s hard not to be taken by protagonist Anyanwu, who learns to navigate her shapeshifting and mindreading abilities, not for ill intent.

Yet, like many stories of powerful women, she ultimately must use her wiles and intelligence to play the long game against her foe. It’s full of gripping plot, harrowing scenarios, beautiful writing, and a powerful protagonist you won’t ever forget.

Benjamin Justice is a broken man—a former prize-winning journalist whose career (and life) has been shattered by the death of his lover and a scandal surrounding his best-known writing. Recruited by his former boss to assist an up-and-coming journalist, Ben finds himself investigating a murder that occurred outside a gay bar. The series is tightly written and casts a dark glamor across gay life in ’90s California.

I stumbled over this book and soon found myself hooked. It’s a romance, yes, but the research into conflict and its effects put it up there on my list of thrillers. It’s not strictly speaking a thriller, it’s more of a military action story and romance, but the characters are wonderful. The way they react to the war zone conflict, the effect it has on the unit and the reporter embedded with them, it has a wonderful ring of truth. And that’s what I’m always looking for in a good romance, the ring of truth. You have to really feel the RPGs coming in, and Garrett does an amazing job of making you really feel it.

If you told me a few years ago that one of my favorite books ever would end up being a fanfiction of a swashbuckling Silver Screen Era movie based on a Victorian Era adventure novel, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I’ve read this book several times and have the audiobook almost perpetually on loan from the library.

I think most fans of KJ Charles skip this one because they think they need to be familiar with the source material (The Prisoner of Zenda) but this scorching, action-packed novel from the villain’s point of blows the original out of the water. 

To be fair, there is a love story featured in this novel, but it’s not at the heart of this tale. This is a historical piece full of captivating characterisation. Robin is a burly man who’s clumsy and unpopular in the small coastal town he lives in. But a horrendous storm is brewing, and Robin takes it upon himself to gather the townsfolk and get them to shelter at The Moth and Moon, the local pub. The world building is excellent. All characters are well realised. Most are eccentric. None are forgettable. And these elements make this tale truly charming.

As befitting the cheeky title, this book – about what it means to be, and to become, a gay man – is incisive, erudite, and a lot of fun to read. A pioneer of queer theory (and with this intervention, I suspect, a renegade from it), David Halperin is an unapologetic camp. He challenges received wisdom about how gay sensibility supposedly is misogynist, passé, irrelevant or dead, and his reflections on everything from Joan Crawford’s pizazz, to the current state of gay marriage, vacillate between being capacious and withering. “Sometimes I think homosexuality is wasted on gay people” he sniffs at one point, dispensing a delightful, and typically barbed, aperçu.

This book affected me very deeply because it’s set in the 80s and 90s when I was in my twenties and thirties. It describes with astonishing accuracy the political cruelty that abounded at that time. For me, the real hero of the book is Leo. He’s not only gay but also Black which makes him a double target for the prejudice of the time. The way he tackles it head on in the book is breathtaking.