100 Books Like Foundling

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!

It was a toss-up here between this book and The Scar, set in a different part of the same world. One of Miéville’s acknowledged influences is the wonderful Mervyn Peake, and like Peake, he’s never in a hurry to get a story underway.

I’d have probably tossed Perdido Street Station aside after 100-200 pages except for a friend’s fervent recommendation—and I’d have missed out big time if I had! Because the story as it develops is truly grand, truly epic. Like Peake, Miéville has a gift for raising action to a mythical status. I love, love, love a novel that builds up to a long, rolling, thunderous climax!

A short fantasy, utterly wild and utterly outrageous! It’s not a single coherent world like the others on this list, more a series of surreal scenes, each one a lightning raid into the depths of the human psyche.

The Freudian unconscious turned into real settings and characters! It’s also more cerebral than other books on this list—Carter is playing with ideas, but a kind of play that’s just so much fun. A workout for the imagination that also stretches the mind!

Traditional fantasy, it ain’t! An algorithm for turning up ‘More Books Like This’ doesn’t have a hope (though they’ll try). This book’s an algorithm buster! 

This is a one-off, and as far as I know, Wangerin never wrote anything else on the same level. It starts out like an animal fable—the main characters are animals—but gradually takes on a cosmic dimension. By the time I finished, I was gasping for breath and wondering, what was that?!

The three forms of darkness threatening the animals are each more tremendous than the last. They’re genuinely threatening, and the world seems inescapably doomed. Wangerin, like all the best fantasy writers, takes his world very, very seriously—he never belittles his creation as a mere game. In another lifetime, I used to be a university professor (when living through 25 years of writer’s block!), and I’m proud to remember how many students I turned on to this and other fantasy novels.

I’m a sucker for any book about books, and this one features a librarian who can speak with magical tomes—how much better does it get? Well, it gets quite a lot better when you throw in a demonically indebted sorcerer who’s as flirty as he is dangerous.

I devoured this book and wish I could read it for the first time all over again. Rogerson weaves a beautiful world that’s so easy to get swept up in, complete with a sword-wielding heroine.

I loved this story! The world is darker than I expected but tactfully done. I found myself shivering with the descriptions of the fangs and getting angry at them, right along with the characters, when they did awful things—which was always.

I loved the forest, full of freshly created dangerous creatures I’d not read about before. I was tickled to read about the treehouse, and the treetop walk within this forest as it reminded me of some elements in my own story.

I found myself hoping Janner, a 12-year-old boy, would uncover the truth about his family and respected his determination to do so. I was often anxious about his younger sister's pet dog as I'm not fond of seeing pets harmed.

An excellent start to the series.

I enjoy a new twist on an old story. Nineteen-year-old author Chloe Gong twisted Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet so tightly that it bled out an intense new version set in 1920s Shanghai. The sweet, tragic innocence of Shakespeare’s young lovers is chucked out the window in favor of two former sweethearts teaming up long after their days of young love are over.

I enjoy Gong’s writing style; her words practically jump off the page straight into my eyeballs. Gangsters? Blood feuds? Monsters? Yes, please! 

It was fun to follow this pink-tinted journey—even though I can’t tell if it's pink from all the leotards or all the blood. I'm a sucker for atmosphere, and a bad girl story set against a backdrop of the cutthroat world of Parisian ballet was always going to be a win for me.

Immediately, I felt suffocated by Laure's world and her need to scrape for, claw for, and demand everything she deserves. I watched Laure put so much work into her craft only to be faced with ridicule and microaggressions, so when she finally decides to take what's her right – I’m egging her on.

At the core of the story, I had to admit I was happy to let the monster win.

I have a brother who is fifteen years my junior. When he was small, I often read him stories. One of our shared favourites, read over and over, was Sendak’s Wild Things. It’s a masterpiece.

He usually wrote the text, as well as making the wonderful pictures, and the text is short, simple, rhythmic, and beautiful. Sendak was a poet as well as an artist.

Think about it: a child of five and a young woman of twenty, reading the same book, poring over the illustrations together, and both having a whale of a time.

If you know a child of picture-book age who doesn’t own Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are—buy it for them!

I relate so much to how Alina initially feels about the claim that she’s the sun summoner. How can I be special? I’m no one. And her connection to Mal is so intense. It reminds me of my connection to my childhood friend, who was my everything.

When we were separated, I was so unsettled. I wrote letters constantly, just like Alina, and I doubted we would ever be together again. When Alina takes control of her powers, I understand her reluctance to embrace her new life and her resistance to becoming a Grisha. After all, why would any of that matter if she couldn’t be with Mal anymore?