100 Books Like Sword Dance

There’s a reason this book is called Slippery Creatures (aside from all the Shakespeare references), and it’s not because of straightforward, upright, just-a-bit-stroppy ex-soldier Will Darling.

Having accidentally inherited a highly sought-after secret along with his uncle’s bookstore, he’s practically surrounded by slippery creatures, not least of whom is Kim, a helpful aristocrat with unclear intentions, a shady past, a delightful fiancée, and an awful lot of baggage.

I became so invested in their relationship that I actually looked into whether Will would be eligible to be drafted in WWII. And no matter how often I re-read it, I laugh whenever I get to certain little jokes or witty exchanges. It’s funny, clever, touching, and so engaging.

In this book, we get to watch philologist Percival Endicott Whyborne solve a dark mystery from his past and battle an evil cult in the company of Griffin Flaherty, an ex-Pinkerton turned private detective, and it is delightful.

Widdershins, MA feels like a real place, but also somewhere plucked directly from the pages of H. P. Lovecraft. Whyborne and Griffin’s relationship is sweet and tender. Whyborne’s best friend, Christine Putnam, is a spitfire in the best possible way. The early twentieth century is rendered in loving detail. And there’s a ton of dark humor. What’s not to love?

This is book one in a series of eleven, so you’ll have plenty to sink your teeth into.

You’d be forgiven for thinking the ex-highwayman is the sneaky character in this one. Still, in fact, it’s the aristocrat with the outlandish plan to rob his own father (or perhaps it’s not so strange that the reformed working-class shlub is more honest than the privileged rich man!).

Percy is very upfront about one thing: his attraction to the sober coffee purveyor, the Kit of the title, who reluctantly agrees to teach him stand-and-delivery tactics. This makes for a funny and refreshing dynamic between the leads. I find it an enjoyable light read with a great deal of heart.

The descriptive writing in this book is beautiful and full of evocative metaphors and similes. Still, it’s the central relationship between the forthright Robin and the secretive, standoffish Edwin that keeps me re-reading it repeatedly.

Unlike the first few recommendations, we see Edwin’s POV, so we know straightaway why he feels the need to hide his true intentions and desires. We also get to experience his quiet, almost reluctant yearning as his and Robin’s shaky friendship turns into more. This one is a lovely, well-developed romance and generally an excellent historical fantasy with an interesting world-building and magic system.

This book is fast-paced: within the first chapter, the titular captive prince, Damon, is enslaved, stripped of his royal identity, and gifted to Laurent, the young prince of a decadent foreign court. Damon, yet another straightforward soldier type (they pair so well with the slippery types), is immediately caught up in the byzantine machinations of Laurent and his uncle and is hilariously out of his depth without ever seeming to realize it.

I appreciate Damon, but I adore Laurent. He is so snarky and cool-headed, running absolute rings around Damon and playing the game like a champion despite the very poor hand his uncle has dealt him. It’s a slow-burn romance, and I loved watching their relationship evolve slowly.

The tagline for this book is “Agatha Christie but make it gay.” But Cat Sebastian does something better than that; although like Christie, everyone is concealing a secret, in Hither, Page almost everyone’s secret is being kept for a good reason—to prevent hurting someone they care about. In this book, Leo, a jaded, world-weary spy, is sent to investigate a murder in a small village. It's just after the end of WWII, and everyone is exhausted and wishes life would just get back to normal already, none more so than James, a local doctor with a touch of PTSD who needs nothing less than to get involved with espionage and smuggling. And then he meets Leo. (Spoiler: things go better than you'd think for the two of them.)

Reading this book is like someone you care about bringing you a bowl of tomato soup on a rainy day.

I have to admit, although I know a lot about gods, I haven’t spent a ton of time reading about folkloric creatures, like faeries, brownies, and selkies. This book, set in a gothic old house in the English countryside in the 1850s, definitely made me feel my neglect of the topic; luckily, I got to learn alongside magician John Blake and Lord Thornby as they investigate the spell that’s holding Thornby trapped.

One remarkable thing about this book is the intriguing and clever magic system. The romance is great. And the twist at the end—well, I didn’t see it coming.

Anne Perry is a superb mystery writer who ventured once into the Byzantine world with this novel and I am so glad she did. The story takes place in 1273, twelve years after the overthrow of the Latin rulers who had occupied Constantinople since the horrific attack by the leaders of the Fourth Crusade in 1204. The city still struggles to recover and a young woman, Anna Lascaris, who has learned medicine from her father, decides to disguise herself as a eunuch to more easily find out who framed her brother for murder, which resulted in his exile to a distant monastery. Poisonous political intrigue swirls around Anna/Anastasius as she practices the healing arts while searching for clues about who was the true killer.   

My favorite Ming dynasty source. It is rich with details on the eunuch institution during the Ming dynasty including its supply chain— the parts of society and of the world where eunuchs were historically drawn. Described here, are the various agencies within the Beijing Forbidden City where Ming dynasty eunuchs worked: Carpentry, Palace Servants, Palace Foods, Royal Clothing, the Nursing Home, and others, including a Toilet Paper agency. Readers not only gain insights on the imperial palace’s operations, but also on the eunuch ranking system, the emperors’ policies concerning eunuchs, and the rise of powerful eunuchs in the Ming secret police (Eastern Depot) and in Ming diplomacy. The latter came to its apogee with Admiral Zheng He, himself a eunuch, leading the Ming fleet during seven world voyages.

Months after reading this book, I found myself wondering what Yashim the eunuch was up to and how his odd assortment of friends were doing, so I was relieved to find that it was the first of a series. Yashim is unique, remarkable, and lovable, as well as being an excellent cook whose technique I sometimes try to copy.

Set in the 1830s, his special circumstances allow him entry to parts of Istanbul and the palace that are off limits to others, naturally of great interest to snooping readers like me. Goodwin is a historian, so he knows his stuff. He's also a very good writer.