65 Books Like An Illusion of Thieves

Three worlds in one book! There’s the not-so-important world of the Ancelstierre, roughly Edwardian or early-20th-Century-ish, and there’s the Old Kingdom, basically medieval, where Charter Magic wars with Free Magic (and how well Nix thinks through the workings of his forms of magic).

But the third world is the one that takes the cake! An underworld of the dead, with its different levels, gates, and sills. Sabriel discovers her own special inheritance and powers—OK, that’s standard fantasy fare, except that Sabriel’s powers are those of an abhorsen. It’s the Abhorsen’s role to make sure that the dead stay dead, and journey on down into the deeper levels of death. Of course, the dead who keep coming back are the ones who drive the narrative!

Who hasn’t dreamt of being able to converse with a wolf? We get our chance in this intriguing story of Fitz Farseer, my all-time favorite character.

There’s much to enjoy in this series—royal assassins, secret mentors, and family betrayal—but what I love most is the outlawed magic that creates a deep bond between Fitz and a fearless wolf named Nighteyes, allowing them to communicate.

Nighteyes, another favorite character, reminds me of my childhood golden retriever, only with sharper fangs and claws. He reveals exactly how much we’re missing out on when we can’t converse with animals like him—sharing their sharper perceptions, grasping the wolfishly obvious, or having our human foolishness pointed out in their bluntly canine way.

This is the BEST retelling of Cinderella and one of my all-time favorite books.

I’ve read it at least a dozen times…as an adult. It never gets old.

Despite her curse of obedience, Ella isn’t a passive damsel in distress (the most aggravating trope in all fairytales). She’s witty, bold, and determined. I love how light and fast-paced it is, yet still rich with fantastic world-building and fully developed characters.

If you’ve only seen the movie, you’re missing a treat. Like they say, the book is always better—in this case, it’s way better.

A trickster god dies, leaving his two sons to squabble with each other and, in that process, identify. At once immersive, magical, and memorable, Gaiman took me through the problems and conflicts of his characters with a potpourri of gravitas, humour, and smartness that only he can conjure with such ease.

Despite the lack of profundity that he's known for amid the scribbled sorcery, I got a lukewarm feel at the end, an all's well that ends well moment that’s an underappreciated and recently overlooked ethic of good-ol’ fantasy.

I went into this book expecting a lengthy god-chase through Lagos, but it quickly spirals into a much larger story with implications for the stability of the entire city. David is a phenomenal character torn between two worlds (human and god) and surrounded by an equally compelling supporting cast, including cranky mentor Papa Udi, ambitious and over-the-top wizard Ajala, beleaguered state god-hunter Onipede, and more. Desperate stakes, and seriously fluid pacing – I find a lot of fantasy novels lengthier than they need to be these days, but Suyi doesn’t waste a single paragraph. Loved every chapter.

Guy Gavriel Kay is widely known and admired for his sweeping, epic fantasy novels, all set in fantastical version of real historical countries—but before he turned to that genre, he wrote the Fionavar Trilogy. 

Think Lord of the Rings with critical differences: the characters all have a wry sense of humor and an appreciation of irony and many of those characters are women, strong, intelligent, fierce, complex women. Kay also goes for broke as a storyteller here; you can almost hear him wondering, “Can I pull this off?” And he does it every single time.

In the kingdom of Illyria, boys are potential sorcerers while girls are only taught to keep house and don’t always learn to read. Marya has spent her whole life swallowing her anger at the unfairness of it, but after her parents blame her for spoiling her brother’s chances at becoming a sorcerer, she is sent to a remote school for troubled girls. There, as she and her classmates form tentative friendships, they question teachers and sorcerers and seek the truth in embroidered messages and folk songs. Marya proves herself to be braver and nobler than the revered sorcerers of Illyria. This staunchly feminist middle grade fantasy empowers young people to interrogate the narratives of the powerful and realize that there is nothing wrong with who they are.  

I first discovered Rachel Aaron, when one of my fans recommended her. After reading her first book, I could see why. Eli is a charming roguish thief who can communicate with spirts, and Niko is a no-nonsense ghost. Their contrasting personalities makes for great reading.

Like all of my prior recommendations, humor plays an important part in this tale. But what I like the most is that the pair’s relationship isn’t just about camaraderie during adventures—it’s about mutual growth and understanding as they both learn from one another. This book isn’t as widely read as some of Rachel’s more recent stories, but it’s well worth checking out, and a great example of a bromance done well.

I adored Howl’s Moving Castle but that novel probably isn’t Diana Wynne Jones’ best book. This compilation includes Charmed Life and The Lives of Christopher Chant in a fantasy world of magicians and bureaucratic management of magic. You would think in a world where magic is real it might get boring, but I trust Jones because she knows how to protect magic from becoming common, always respecting magic's economy.

Surprises abound in these stories, but it's easy to let go of my critical mind and just have fun. Bonus fact: Diana Wynne Jones was a student of JRR Tolkien’s at Oxford. I laughed my head off when I read Wynne’s descriptions of Tolkien’s lectures online. She is fascinating and also hilarious.

Karen Foxlee is—hands down—one of my favorite writers ever. She writes so beautifully and compassionately about what it feels like to be lost or sad or afraid, and Ophelia and the Marvelous Boy is no exception. This retelling of The Snow Queen takes place in a snowbound museum filled with arcane objects. The main character, Ophelia, is grieving the loss of her mother. And even though she doesn’t consider herself very brave, she volunteers for a quest that will change the world—and begin to heal her heart. I love this book for its gentleness, its beauty, its snowy cosiness, and its powerful portrayal of a girl moving within—and through—grief.