86 Books Like Black Water Sister

Imagine waking up to discover you’ve become the City of New York. And meeting the avatar of São Paulo walking around trying to be a mentor. As a New Yorker, I’m all for it, and I was hooked right from the start of this urban fantasy. Aliens are trying to eat the cities of Earth, but the cities fight back by choosing champions from among their populations.

New York, being New York, has six—one for the City as a whole and one for each borough because we do things right here. I got such a kick out of every borough’s particular personality and approach to being part of the whole, when just the other day, these were all ordinary people pursuing their own aims. Sudden, magical, consequential reinvention. Love it.

This is a coming-of-age novel set in 1950s San Francisco. As teenagers my best friend and I shared a mutual hyperfixation with the Cold War. It beautifully explores that era, from the Space Race to the McCarthyism that targeted both queer Americans and Chinese Americans. My best friend now lives in San Francisco, and when I last went to visit her I treated myself to going on a little walking tour of some of the places mentioned in the novel, all around Chinatown and Russian Hill.

The desire Lily feels towards her butch friend is beautiful and stirring, and the excitement she feels at exploring the underground gay scene is absolutely infectious. 

This might be cheating a little, as the ‘dragon’ in this book is actually a giant robot-like mecha that is piloted by human soldiers, but I couldn’t leave this list without a mention of Iron Widow.

This is a fierce feminist fantasy re-imagining of China’s only female sovereign, Wu Zetian, and it absolutely pulls no punches. A furiously paced story of vengeance and redemption, this book was a thrill from start to finish.

As a writer of feminist myths, Kartika Nair’s exquisite poetic retelling of the Mahabharata from the women’s perspective felt like it was written for me. The title is from the African writer Chinua Achebe’s words, "Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter." Using formal poetry, free verse, and prose, Nair has created a palimpsest of the great Indian epic of kingship and warring dynasties which is several times the length of The Iliad and The Odyssey combined. Here the mothers, wives, sisters, and lovers of the protagonists tell their stories, providing a counterpoint to the much-quoted verse from the epic: "All that is found here can be found elsewhere, but what is not here can be found nowhere."

The Mermaid of Black Conch takes a mythological creature and gives her extraordinary life, as a very real, young woman, called Aycayia.

She is caught – hooked like a prize fish - by greedy anglers, and hauled from the sea, bringing with her an already fascinating and tragic history of injustice and misunderstanding. But, she is also an object of love.

Not all fishermen are commercial opportunists… Not all men are eager to exploit beautiful and unusual women, and so begins an extraordinary rescue, and a life-affirming relationship, with many unpredictable, literally magical, and truly remarkable twists.

This enchanting book, written with breath-taking originality, is likely to spell-bind you – permanently. You’ll never again think of mermaids in the same way.

I’ve heard people say this book is “magical,” and that description is spot on.

I cannot get over how cute this book was! A sprinkle of magic, found family, finding yourself, and amazing descriptions of the city. This book gave me so many sparkly feels. I begged for the two characters to get together and rooted for the MC from page one. The plot was phenomenally creative, genuinely like nothing I had ever read within contemporary romance.

I finished this book faster than any other book of the year. 

I was instantly pulled into this first book in the Rivers of London series because of the main character. I found Constable Peter Grant to be delightfully awkward. His very much unwanted ability to see and speak to lingering spirits results in his assignment to a secret police unit that investigates crimes involving magic.

He’s stunned to meet gods, goddesses, and more fantastic beings who exist in a hidden world alongside mortals. I loved meeting all of the engaging characters, normal and supernatural. I was totally engaged in the believable world created by the author, where the ordinary ticks beside the extraordinary. Even better, the humorous situations Peter stumbles into as he chases down whodunit made me laugh out loud.

This is a story that challenges our understanding of identity–Zhu is a girl, and she is a male novice in a monastery. Zhu wears her dead brother’s name like armor and schemes to make his fate hers as well. Zhu is as unapologetically callous as the world that discarded her. Zhu lives as a man and never wishes to live as a woman, but her pronouns never change.

Her story forces the reader to confront the heavy hand of circumstance in our lives and our definition of self. Zhu performs gender without regret or longing, it is a tool of her survival; instead, she defines herself in her ambition. And even though the person that Zhu ultimately chooses to become isn’t one we might admire, her relationship to gender speaks to those of us who sit between the boundaries of gender, who move between, or who fill more than one… show more.

Bangalore, or Bengaluru, is a city I’m very familiar with in real life, and Lavanya Lakshminarayan’s Analog/Virtual, to be published in the West next year by Rebellion as The Ten-Percent Thief, does a splendid job of moving it to the future, using an intricately interconnected mosaic structure to take a wide-ranging look across the social and technological divides that present-day India will carry into the future, giving her readers bleakness, clarity, wonder, humour, and hope as she tells the multifaceted story of a revolution. Analog/Virtual was published in India the same year as Chosen Spirits (the Indian edition of The City Inside), and it was personally fascinating to me to see how similarly and differently we approached present-day social and political concerns in our future-real cities. Definitely a book (along with SB Divya’s Machinehood) that would have deeply influenced mine if I’d read it before writing.

It’s hard to describe Lavie Tidhar’s Central Station, except to say that it is a fascinating study of various humans and non-humans residing—some permanently, some temporarily—in a hot, dusty spaceport/city that has sprung up between Tel Aviv and Jaffa sometime in our future. They confront questions and answers about family, memory, reality, and what is human—and occasionally come up with answers. A wonderfully written, almost hypnotic book.