84 Books Like Genesis

I didn’t just love Ecotopia—I wanted to move in, flaws and all.

There’s something very old-timey American about the irreverent, can-do people of Ecotopia—no thick institutional crust, just folks getting things done and cheerfully going about their daily lives. The decentralization, the dirt under the fingernails—all of it breathed like a real place.

They compose music, grow heirloom tomatoes, and debate philosophy in newspapers printed on yesterday’s recycled pulp–or some such. And they carry a fundamental sense of optimism for a bright new day. One can grow used to it. 

The Biosphere 2 project was the wackiest multimillion-dollar enterprise to emerge from the New Age movement. This book is a nonfiction account of how a New Mexico commune, with a charismatic leader, developed a plan to test the viability of off-planet living by creating a sealed-off biosphere, which would be a self-sustaining and organizing ecosystem in which humans could survive. The goal was to create not a sterile environment but one that supported life that would make off-planet living appealing. The four men and four women sequestered for two years in the 3.14-acre domed-off area outside Tucson grew into two factions that hated one another. All came close to starvation, CO2 poisoning, and madness. For readers that simply must have narrative in fiction form, T. Corraghesson Boyle’s The Terranauts is based on this same early 1990s episode. 

I loved this book as it opened up a whole new perspective on climate change for me, and how we can tell a different story, a new one.

Discussions about climate change are often characterised by an adversarial nature and war-like terminology (we need to fight climate change, we need to prove the sceptics wrong), and the book moves beyond simplistic carbon reductionism and climate fundamentalism to focus on our love of nature and how we can use that to create a different story of “interbeing,” a story of regeneration, of reanimation, of love and of abundance to care for and protect nature on which we all depend.

And who can argue with love?

Architect-philosopher Paolo Soleri writes in an oracular style introducing his way-outsized book of designs for hyper-dense, concrete-megastructure cities in the deserts or oceans or even in space, none actually realized except for a very small prototype called “Arcosanti” in the high plateaus north of Phoenix, a campus that could have been built in a summer by a middle-sized reinforced-concrete contractor but in fact has been slowly erected by trainee-volunteers and a diehard community of followers over the last half-century. But there is something to it. “Tightly-woven minimalist packages will become mandatory.” I recommend the tabloid-sized original edition: it fits the buildings.

In this future, humanity needs to terraform Mars to provide a second home to a swelling population. The Mars Trilogy follows a group of scientists and astronauts, who gain extended lifetimes through a scientific breakthrough; this device enables us to follow the same characters through more than one normal active career span. 

My favourite book is Green Mars, because as a tree surgeon, I am fascinated by the methods shown of planting miniature trees and other plants, adapted from Nordic and mountainous shrubs. The people are experimenting with frontier lifestyles using available materials, and experimenting on adapting humans to the planet. Big business and inter-planetary politics keep raising their heads, as in any colonisation effort. And a few holdout scientists are saying that Mars is beautiful, precious, and unique, and we should study the red planet as it is, not terraform it.

Most realistic fiction set on Mars is about small exploratory expeditions. There is surprisingly little available about colonization that doesn't bring in the discovery of intelligent inhabitants or a lost civilization, or at least traces of one having existed in the past. And the few novels with no fantastic elements tend to focus on political controversy. So I was happy to find this recent book that depicts what a colony on Mars might really be like. It's based on the board game "Terraforming Mars," which I haven’t seen, but doesn't depend on any knowledge of the game. The story is part murder mystery and while it’s intended to be entertainment rather than serious literature, it will be enjoyed by readers who are excited by the idea of settling a new world.

I liked this book (and also the others of the trilogy) for the realistic and well-thought-out description of the terraforming of Mars.

The ethical and political aspects of this endeavor are so well described that the reader immediately gets involved in the political struggle (I personally joined the ‘green’ party advocating for immediate terraforming).

But politics on Mars is as harsh as on Earth and even more deadly since the place is a very dangerous one. The United Nations plays the part of the felon, trying to prevent Martians from becoming independent, and the war they wage causes the reader to lose several friends.

Rysa Walker offers a grab bag of fiction, from time travel to murder mysteries. Her latest series is an alien artifact story set on Mars.

An eccentric and not-so-honest billionaire is terraforming the planet (sound familiar?) and multiple factions of homesteaders are in conflict with the temporary workers. Enter a principled journalist who just wants to bring the breaking alien artifact story to readers back on Earth. She quickly learns that virtually no one on Mars can be trusted. In over her head, she has no ride home.

I like this story in part because Rysa is such a good writer, but also because it feels supremely relevant to our world today.

I love this book for its science fiction and magical realism. This generational saga of a small town on a recently terraformed Mars is both a love letter to and an evolution on Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude.

McDonald wanted to capture the frontier magic of a whole new world in a way that wasn’t just moving the American West to space, and in the end he breathes new life into one of the oldest tropes of SF, the colony story.

Charming, fantastical, and witty, it shares its source material’s deep humanism even in the face of cynical realism. It may very well be my favorite novel of all time, and luckily for all of us, there’s an equally great sort of sequel, Ares Express.

When I strapped in to read Red Rising, I was mentally prepared for a modern Dune-style space opera, complete with a chosen-one arc. But what kept me turning pages was Darrow’s humanity.

I was thrilled to discover how he breaks, rebuilds, and keeps fighting to become more than the system that made him. I loved that it refused to give me a perfect hero. Every victory costs something, and every choice leaves a scar.

It reminded me that courage doesn’t always look noble—sometimes it’s messy, angry, and uncertain. But that’s what makes it real.

This book made me feel the weight of change and how hard it is to stay kind while tearing down what’s broken.