Books like Amatka — picked by fans

This is a highly propulsive and emotionally engaging novel with a sympathetic protagonist at its core.

It could be considered a portal fantasy, but I'd categorize it, along with the other books on this list, as “speculative,” because it doesn’t fit neatly into either the fantasy or science fiction genres and is anchored in contemporary or near-future realism.

Piranesi’s beautifully executed theme, about how a dramatic change in perspective can lead to a deeper appreciation for the beauty and nobility abiding beneath the ugliness of humanity and our one and only world, is one for the ages.

This highly original and beautiful book is destined to endure as one of the classics of early twenty-first century literature.

For a more traditional take on fantasy, Sofia Samatar’s A Stranger in Olondria is lovely and immersive, a fascinating new world worthy of Ursula Le Guin and Gene Wolfe.

Reportedly, she created Olondria from a combination of regions in Turkey and North Africa, and it feels absolutely fresh and instantly powerful. A teenage merchant becomes haunted by the ghost of a young girl and must find a way to put her to rest.

But the story is really about the power of books and stories and language itself. It’s a love letter to adventure and open seas, harbors, and alleys, and snowy mountains in the distance.

Ms. Samatar holds several advanced degrees in language and literature, including Arabic and various African dialects, and you can feel the joy of her verbal artistry dancing on the page.

Stranger is not to be missed.

Technically—very technically—this is the conclusion of a trilogy, but it’s more three standalone novels that have some things to say to, and about, each other.

The first book, The Iron Dragon’s Daughter, was hugely influential on me as a reader and writer, and on speculative fiction as a field. This one, two decades later, is the most direct about the mutual imbrication, the bidirectional haunting, between our world and theirs.

Swanwick’s Dragon books do indeed feature dragons, except the iron dragons are mechanical, warplanes bonded to their human pilots, in a version of Faerie that has fully integrated vile modernity and knows our souls all too well. 

Death in Spring is a tiny book containing a bigger, more intricate world than many a doorstopper, for all that the whole story set in a small, nameless hamlet.

Life there too is made of strange, violent rituals, only not the ones we know. We follow a boy growing up and learning them, and being scarred by these mysteries—what do they fill the mouths of the dead with, before they are killed and put into a tree forever? (It’s cement.)

Rodoreda wrote in Catalan, and Tennent’s translation is fluid and beautiful.

Perfection is a rare thing; if you want to see what that looks like, here you go.   

In a post-apocalyptic world run by an oppressive American empire, we find Little Bird hiding in a hole. Though her mother was a great leader of the rebellion, Little Bird has found herself very lost, in a very cruel world - and she just might be the last chance that the freethinking people of the Western world have. 

I love that this story takes familiar forces and fears of our modern life and cranks them up to eleven. With that in mind, the star of the show must be Ian Bertram’s artwork. All the huge ideas and themes created by Darcy are elevated to a startling degree by the way Ian is able to build this world visually. The iconography, the violence, the characterizations, it slaps you in the face page after page.

This book didn’t just fascinate me; it shattered my understanding of utopia. Cronin’s Prospera seemed idyllic, but as I read, a gnawing unease grew. Like the protagonist, Proctor, I found myself grappling with the realization that perfection might come at a devastating cost.

The unraveling of Prospera’s facade forced me to reflect on the illusions we cling to in our own society. Cronin’s exploration of memory, loss, and the price of paradise stuck with me, making me ponder the lies we tell ourselves.

Packer examines why the United States invaded Iraq without a just cause and without a plan for what to do once it succeeded in toppling Saddam Hussein. He explains the critical first few months of the war that set the course for everything that followed in a searing examination of America’s extraordinary hubris in the “War on Terror.” What sets Packer’s work apart is his ability to explain events in the White House and Pentagon and tie them to their bitter denouement on the streets of Baghdad. He tells the story of a big war of choice gone badly wrong before the first shots were fired. 

I think some of the strongest and most compelling stories can be told in video game RPGs, and I consistently refer to this one as having some of the best characters. I read this novel after playing the game, and I loved being able to learn more about Loghain.

In this book, he is lorded as a powerful figure, and he affects major parts of the story. I loved exploring his backstory and seeing his character evolve and grow into how he is in the game. I also enjoyed connecting the pieces of his personality to the plot of the novel. The author captured the formula of creating “real,” flawed characters from the game and translated it excellently into prose.

First, I need to explain that the title of this book is deceptive as Riverbend, an Iraqi tech expert, is a well-educated young woman, not a girl. The book is taken from her blog, written from August 2003 through September 2004, and details the changes that war between Saddam Hussein and American forces brings to Iraq.

I lived in the US during these years and followed the news closely as the US organized and launched its attack on Saddam Hussein’s regime with “shock and awe”. However, Riverbend’s account taught me far more than all the media accounts. Her formerly quiet life as a computer tech ends as a woman is no longer allowed to come into the office, or even be safely seen on the street. Almost every page contains contrasts of Iraqi everyday life as lived by her family with the changes the invasion brings—changes no U.S. reader was… show more.

I knew Saw Ralph and Naw Sheera when we were in Manerplaw, which used to be the headquarters of the Karen resistance, in Burma. As a little girl, I often followed my mother Nant Kyin Shwe to her workplace and remembered seeing Naw Sheera in the office of the Karen Women's Organisation. When I read her book, it reminds me of all the places and the people, and my beautiful childhood in, Kawthoolei, Burma.