Books like Romanov — picked by fans

Storm Sneezer is targeted at a slightly younger demographic, perhaps more of an upper MG or lower YA read, but the world is so magical, the friendships so beautiful, and the voice so hilarious that I can’t imagine any fantasy-loving teen not laughing out loud and rooting for spunky protagonist Rose.

Thirteen-year-old Rose Skylar sneezed a magical storm cloud at birth, and it’s followed her around ever since. As a result, Rose is sent to Heartstone, an asylum for unstable magic located in a haunted forest whose trees have mysteriously turned to stone. Ghosts roaming the woods and a graveyard filled with empty graves hint at something darker. Guided by her future selves via time-traveling letters, Rose and her best friend Marek must solve the mystery of the specters and the stone trees before the ghosts unleash a legendary enemy that will destroy Heartstone Asylum.

Unbetrothed was released around the same time as Encanto and if you love the Disney movie you’ll love this book. In a vibrant Latin-inspired world where princesses are expected to be magically gifted, Princess Beatriz is not. With her kingdom, life, and betrothal to her best friend and love, Prince Lux, on the line, she’ll do whatever it takes to obtain magic, including making a deadly oath to go on a quest to Valle de Los Fantasmas, a valley where no one comes out alive.

Yamnitz tackles themes of love, family, and worth in a gorgeous world accompanied by a swoony love interest and plot twists galore, leaving the reader cheering on Princess Beatriz in both her quest across kingdoms and her inner journey to become the princess she's destined to be.

Between the high-stakes worldbuilding, Earth on the brink of war with Luna while battling a global pandemic, and Marissa Meyer’s fresh sci-fi take on magic, the story drew me in and wouldn’t let me go.

I’m not ashamed to say I devoured this in one sitting. I was fascinated by the lunar people’s ability to use their “gifts” to manipulate bioelectricity, casting glamours and bewitching their victim’s minds. It added yet another layer of tension to the story.

The seamless fusion of dystopia, sci-fi, and elements from classic fairytales creates a powerhouse narrative that centers around Cinder, a cyborg mechanic whose fate is inexplicably twined with the prince’s in a race to find a cure and prevent the impending war.

Keen is about a banshee, Caoine, currently living in the contemporary world, even though the fae realm is closer than many know. I’d never read about a banshee, but I understood Caoine’s feeling of not fitting in, of being weird or different. Caoine is a sympathetic heroine as she tries to learn how to use her ability, even though she’s certain her only purpose is to bring death to those around her.

This book narrowly focuses on one of the most famous moments that putatively determined the course of Russian and world history in the 20th century—Lenin’s journey from exile in Zurich, through enemy territory, to Petrograd in April 1917. The journey acquired infamy because it was facilitated by the German Army and government.

Leaving to one side consideration of counterfactuals or “what-ifs,” I loved Merridale’s book because it manages to capture so many worlds—the world of Russian revolutionary politics and exile, of espionage during WWI, and the early weeks of the Revolution of 1917—all while maintaining a focus on the human level of a train journey.

Patenaude focuses just on the Mexican period, from January 1937 to August 1940, of Trotsky’s exile, although the previous stages of his exile — Kazakhstan in 1928, then Turkey for four years, France for another three, followed by interment in Norway — are dealt with in a series of flashbacks. In fact, the whole book is written as if Trotsky in Coyoacán were recalling his past, from his prosperous farmer’s boyhood to his underground militancy, his Civil War military brilliance, and his blundering incompetence as a Bolshevik power-broker. The danger that Patenaude flirts with is to let Trotsky’s charisma and undoubted genius charm him into overlooking his subject’s monstrous indifference to the suffering and deaths of others, sometimes even of those close to him, as well as his overweening conceit.

By dealing with the last phase of the tragedy, nemesis, Trotsky is seen to pay in fear, resignation, failure, and… show more.

Easily one of my favorite epic fantasies I’ve read in recent years. The complexity of Gillian’s world is a highlight, yet she still makes the story and those within it accessible for her readers. It felt deep, not cluttered. She writes distinctly and with heart from three different points of view. I couldn’t flip pages fast enough, anxious for the moment these three story threads would intersect. It was more than worth the wait. 

I had the great pleasure of studying with Jane Alison during my MFA at Queens University of Charlotte, and so as a diligent student, I, of course, read her books. As a poet as well as a novelist, I was captivated by the lyricism in this depiction of the Roman poet who gave us the Metamorphoses.

A different twist on historical retelling, this book is based on Ovid’s banishment to a miserable backwater far from his beloved Rome and his encounter with a fictional Black Sea enchantress. Alison built an incredible character in Xenia, a woman of power, a muse, and maybe Ovid’s match. 

Cristina Garcia has become the definitive chronicler of both Cuba and Cuban exiles. King of Cuba tells the story of two men: El Comandante (also called the despot, the tyrant, or El Líder—clearly this is Fidel) and a Miami exile, Goyo Herrera, who is as old and infirm as Castro himself. Garcia’s portrait of the desperation and ignominies these two old guys suffer, and of their hopeless attempts to cleave to past glories, transcends Cuban history and brings us two men I found cantankerous and self-inflating, but irresistible.

This heartwarming, multigenerational drama about the Korean community in Japan swept me into another time and place. Born and raised in a poor fishing village in Japanese-occupied Korea, Sunja makes an impulsive decision in the pursuit of love that transforms the trajectory of her life.

Thoughtful, resilient, and fiercely independent, Sunja was a relatable character whom I desperately wanted to see thrive. I felt her heartache when she left her beloved Korea and shared her indignation at the discrimination she and her family experienced in Japan. Expertly crafted and keenly observed, Pachinko shows us how history and politics shape the lives of ordinary people, often for generations to come.