40 Books Like Ring Shout

This was one of the strangest, most beautiful books I’ve ever read. At first, the format can throw you off. A chorus of dead voices, snippets of historical and imagined texts? But once I got into the rhythm, it felt like something sacred. The cemetery setting becomes a limbo space where spirits cling to their stories, fears, and unfinished business.

I found myself unexpectedly emotional, especially in how it portrayed grief—Lincoln’s grief, yes, but also the collective grief of the dead. It made me think about what we leave behind and how love can echo even after death. It was haunting in the best way.

I love this book because it’s basically The Blues Brothers combined with Dungeons and Dragons. How did Nicholas Eames ever come up with that concept, and make it work so well?

In this breakneck madcap quest, retired hero Clay Cooper sets out to get his original adventuring ‘band’ back together one by one in order to go on one last mission to save his daughter. The jokes had me guffawing, the action had me riveted, and the structuring left me open-mouthed.

It reminds me of Final Fantasy because once again we have an eccentric ensemble cast going on an adventure quest with magic and monsters galore…but not only that: Eames is also on record as a Final Fantasy fan and names some of his characters after Final Fantasy characters, along with sticking in some other Easter eggs related to the franchise. 

This is probably the strangest retelling on this list (rivaling Alexis Hall’s wonderful The Affair of the Mysterious Letter) and—perhaps because of that?—the one that follows the original stories most closely.

Indeed, the mysteries explored by Crow are beat-by-beat versions of Holmes’s, except where they deviate to puncture racism, xenophobia, and sexism or to reflect the dictates of the fascinating paranormal world Addison created.

The wary developing friendship between Watson and Crow, the bizarre half-glimpsed world they live in, and the urgency of the prose make it hugely readable.

This book is an epic fantasy novel masquerading as science fiction. Viv (think female Elon Musk) is on the cusp of changing the world with her tech company when she’s kidnapped by an Empress sitting at the end of Time who rules most of the universe and is bent on conquering or destroying the rest. Forced to team up with a space pirate queen, warrior monk, newb pilot, and a machine virus (yes, really--and it's awesome) that used to serve the Empress, Viv traverses the universe to do what no one has ever attempted: rebel. It’s a ragtag Guardians of the Galaxy with loads more twists and turns that will have you reaching for your space sick bag trying to figure out if Viv and team will make it to the end alive.

So, first off, this is one of the best audiobooks of all time. While Scott did an amazing job spinning the tale, Michael Page elevated this work to a whole new level. There was a time around 2010 when fantasy became overly serious and dark. And I was rescued by the Gentlemen Bastards which was fast paced, fun, and fabulous. The absolute best part of this book is its humor, something that is sorely missing in fantasy these days.

Of course the stars of the show are Locke and Jean. Locke is a charismatic, cunning cutthroat and Jean is his loyal right-hand man. Together they make a great pair. Their deep, brotherly friendship and unwavering loyalty to each other is fantastic, and the reason they made my list.

Early in this book, a character uses his kitchen oven to dry out some psychedelic mushrooms harvested from the rooftop garden at his flat in World War II London. Dosing the characters (and somehow the reader) with Amanita Muscaria is an appropriate way to set the tone of this book.

Mushroom experiences are fun and giggly and clever, at times, but they can also open the mind to the evils mankind is capable of and the intricate conspiracies seemingly hiding in plain sight. Which is what I love about Gravity’s Rainbow – Pynchon’s writing is hilarious, but then he’ll hit you with a gut punch so poignant it will linger in your mind for decades. 

My mother is a member of the exact same generation as Rushdie, kids born at the moment when India gained independence, so I grew up in the shadow of that legacy—the optimism, the violence, the huge historical question mark. But when I picked up Rushdie’s magical-realist novel, it was the prose that spoke to me first: vivid, exaggerated, a cacophony, evoking India itself.

Our narrator, Saleem Sinai, was switched at birth with another child, and throughout the novel, images and phrases recur in different contexts. Often, these are puns that, by the second or third time they appear, have accumulated the weight of metaphor. I’ve read this book half a dozen times, and find more to enjoy with each reading.

I picked this up expecting a revenge fantasy story based on what I’d heard, but what I got was something far more brutal.

Much like my #3 pick, this story doesn’t flinch. It dissects power, identity, and the cost of survival with narrative precision. Watching Rin’s descent was nearly voyeuristic; it felt wrong, but you couldn’t help but watch.

This book is an excellent example of fantasy that doesn’t need to pull its punches. It can confront uncomfortable topics head-on and still leaves room for humanity and consequences.

I like history and dragons, so I was immediately grabbed by a book offering an alternative history with dragons! The story is set during the Napoleonic Wars. Dragons are a major part of the war effort. A dragon chooses his or her captain, and the larger dragons are like warplanes or warships in the air, carrying the captain and a crew, including a medic.

The main human character, naval captain Will Laurence, is picked by a newly hatched dragon, which takes him into Britain’s Aerial Corps. I enjoyed reading how Laurence comes to love Temeraire, and that the dragon is a strong character in his own right. 

Gary Barwin had to make this list. He’s a Prospero of historical weirdness. I was torn between this book and his more recent novel Nothing the Same, Everything Haunted: The Ballad of Motl the Cowboy, which follows its titular character on a harrowing journey across Nazi-infested Europe to retrieve his shot-off-by-a-Dadaist testicles from a Swiss glacier. But Yiddish for Pirates wins the toss because it’s narrated by a parrot.

Aharon, a Yiddish-idiom-spouting 500-year-old ship’s parrot, traces the life of his Captain, Moishe, from a shtetl near Vilnius through Torquemada’s Inquisition and Columbus’ brutal conquest of the Caribbean to an eventual erratic career in piracy, with a couple of quests along the way. What makes Barwin’s work sing is the tragic humanity within the swirl of its jaw-dropping narrative ridiculousness.