Books like Claws and Contrivances — picked by fans

Atwater’s Regency fairy tales include not just human magicians but also the fae.

In Half a Soul, an elvin lord tries to steal Theadora Etting’s soul, but her quick-thinking cousin helps her preserve half of it. With only half a soul, though, Dora both thinks differently and feels emotions differently than other people. (Author Olivia Atwater has said that Dora’s magical condition parallels real-life neurodivergence, and autistic readers may see themselves in Dora.)

Because of those differences, Dora believes herself to be unlovable, but she is proven gloriously wrong when she encounters Elias Wilder, one of the most powerful sorcerers in Europe. She and Elias work together to stop a magical plague threatening vulnerable children in workhouses. 

I love the verve and charm of this story, told through a series of letters between two young Regency women who are best friends. Though the magical elements add mystery and keep the plot moving, I especially enjoyed experiencing the narrative through their correspondence with each other.

The letters add nuance to the characters, making me imagine that I am involved in the events of their lives—even though it takes days for the post to carry the letters to their destination. A side note that makes me love the book even more is the story of how it came to be: a fan met an author, and they collaborated to create this project.

Fans of monster romance should check out this low-heat novella, which begins when protagonist Mary Clegg runs away from home to escape an unwanted marriage.

A detour through the forest gets her thoroughly lost, but not to worry: she conveniently encounters a handsome young centaur. He’s supposed to be surveying the land, but he’s just as lost as Mary, and the forest seems to be working magic of some sort to keep them together overnight. In addition to the forced proximity trope, there’s a bit of class difference at play, because centaurs are not considered genteel.

Quenby Olson’s gift for a witty turn-of-phrase is on point here, and I loved that the book was short enough to enjoy in a single setting.

Alexis Hall is the most well-known author on this list, and this sapphic Regency fantasy will not disappoint readers who like a Byronic love interest.

I loved the way the novel is narrated by the very opinionated Robin Goodfellow (aka “Puck”), who has been kicked out of the fairy court. Robin describes how Maelys Mitchelmore’s social life becomes complicated when an unknown ill-wisher curses her.

A chance encounter introduces her to the dark, brooding, and attractive Lady Georgianna Landrake, who helps Maelys discover and defeat her adversary. But Lady Georgianna suffers from her own family curse, and magical forces nearly tear the two lovers apart.

It takes courage, wisdom, and the help of Maelys’ friends to free Lady Georgianna and allow love to triumph. 

Corinne Duyvis is autistic, and so is the narrator for this book, Denise. Unsurprisingly, given she shares the disorder, Duyvis has absolutely nailed this aspect of the character. As an autistic person myself, Denise feels relatable to me in a way that few fictional protagonists do. 

While other characters in the book struggle to understand her, her habits and mannerisms frequently make me say, “Hey! That’s like me!” Nothing beats having that experience with a character, and the book’s story, which sees Denise use her unique talents to attempt to secure a place for her family on a generation ship fleeing from catastrophe on Earth, is well-crafted and gripping throughout. 

This book isn’t objectively funny, but it left me with a smile on my face. It has a well-written, believable, neurodiverse character who grabbed my heart. I have a child on the autistic spectrum, and Booth captured the essence of autism without slipping into the depressing parts.

Nexus’s confusion over things “normal” people do, for example, tickled my funny bone but didn’t make me laugh. The characters who help him on his journey aren’t sappy do-gooders but people who genuinely like him and want to help. The overall tone of the book made me believe the world could be a better place. 

This is a speculative novel, asking readers: how might we use technology to replicate loved ones before they pass, so in a way, no one ever has to die? How would we want to remember them? How do we process and avoid grief through technology? And how might technology with an ableist focus create an erasure of neurodivergence?

The novel gives this speculative backdrop but focuses on authentic interactions and a beautiful relationship between the autistic protagonist Cora and her ADHD friend Adrien. The way Cora and Adrien express the pressure a neurotypical society imposes on neurodivergent people is resonant and nuanced. It also does a great job of showing the similarities and differences between autism and ADHD in a compelling way.

Steph has a way with words, that will make you laugh and cry at the same time.

Her survival guide to therapy takes us on a journey that I entirely identify with – trying to find therapy for all of our ‘problems’ from therapists who don’t really get it. I learned so much (and know now what to do) and enjoyed myself along the way.

This was one of the most honest books I have ever read.

Marian shares her life story with utter candour, from her early life up until her autism diagnosis as an adult. Her anecdotes and tales or faux pas and other social screw-ups are so relatable and she made me want to give her a hug in pure solidarity. I feel your pain, Marian!

When my daughter was diagnosed as autistic aged 10, I was desperate to be able to describe her and her ‘condition’ to the school so they would know how best to help her.

I was so grateful to discover this book by Clare Sainsbury (of the supermarket family), who is autistic herself. In it, she describes her schoolgirl experience and how she felt like a 'Martain in the Playground.' She was eight or nine when she realized she was ‘different in some nameless but all-pervasive way.’

I found reading this book to be nerve-wracking and heartbreaking but necessary. It looked into how my daughter was likely feeling every day. In a way, it was a guidebook for my own child.