100 Books Like The 5th Wave

What intrigues me about this book is the way the author, Margaret Atwood, took the (Genesis 30) story of Jacob, who impregnated his wife's handmaiden to produce the children which his wife could not conceive.

She then puts herself in the place of that handmaiden and asks some serious questions. Was that handmaid even given a choice in the matter? What would have happened to her if she had refused? She then rolls the same idea forward 4,000 years to a pseudo religious society in which the sole purpose of handmaidens is to use their bodies to conceive and gestate the next generation for those whom they serve.

I was immediately hooked by this brilliant novel because of its unusual omniscient narrator, the Grim Reaper. Death, stressed out by the surfeit of “clients” he must deal with during World War II, reveals himself to be a sensitive narrator who sees everything. He especially keeps his eye on a young German girl, her loving foster parents, and the Jewish man they hide and protect.

I fell in love with these characters as they struggled with moral decisions, wartime hardship, danger, and tragedy. Despite the realistic portrayal of German life during WWII, I found this book to be an uplifting read. 

Insecurity is huge in end-of-the-world stories. As humans, we have always sought shelter and security from the wilds of nature, animals, and the things we cannot see in the dark. We created fire and fences and walls and locked doors—to this day, in our modern era, we still need these things. At the end of the world, security is tantamount, but what if you need to go beyond your secured barriers? What if behind these walls, things aren’t actually as safe as you think they are? Finding out why a character would breach their safety is intriguing. After all, a story would be very different if the characters never ventured out of their homes, but if it’s safer inside, why would they go out?

I avoid zombie fiction like the plague. Heh-heh. That level of horror just isn’t my thing. But I picked up Rot & Ruin curious about the two central characters, teen brothers Benny and Tom Imura. Wow! This book is much more than a plot-driven, gruesome-shock-around-every-corner horror story.

The Imura brothers set out together, despite mistrust and sibling rivalry, on a quest through a post-apocalyptic world swarming with the undead. I loved the interaction of love and obligation between them. Deadly trials ultimately forge their relationship into one of deep affection, trust, and loyalty. Nothing melts my heart like an unbreakable brother bond. Bonus, older brother Tom is a freakin’ cool fighter!

I love The Host because it has two female heroes, but one is a parasite inside the other. When a parasitic alien race, the Souls, invades earth, Wanderer is placed in the body of Melanie Stryder. When implanted, Souls are supposed to completely subsume the host, but Melanie Stryder won’t give up her mind or her body that easily. Melanie is a hero because of her strength and willingness to sacrifice anything to maintain her autonomy. Wanderer is a hero because of her empathy and willingness to defy the construct of her society and forge a new path. The book is the most interesting portrayal of the capacity for sentient beings to develop empathy against all odds that I’ve ever read. It’s also a remarkable portrayal of a most imaginative female bond.

David Charleston’s character resonated with me. He’s eccentric, passionate, and meticulous, while also being a great friend.

He’s also out for revenge against his father’s killer—A supervillain named Steelheart who has taken over Chicago. David unites with a secret group of people called the Reckoners who are trying to learn each villain's weakness to assassinate them.

David’s obsession with details is relatable, and against the terrifying powers of these supervillains, you're left on the edge of your seat hoping the Reckoner's schemes will be enough.

This book felt so real. Ilsa Beck did such an amazing job at writing a book about a very saturated genre that was fresh and terrifying because her use of science really made me think this was a very real way the world could end. Also, it is wonderful when a book features a flawed, but strong female lead, something I always strive to write in my books. The main character, Alex, is real and three-dimensional and relatable, even as she’s trying to survive a sudden zombie apocalypse all on her own.

This one is totally different than the others on my list, but when I was diving into these related genres and finding myself more and more inspired by them, it was always a surprise and a treat to find a book that just completely defied all genre expectations. The book blends Sci-Fi with Fantasy, something I’ve always enjoyed if done well, and something that made me think maybe I could try my hand at this. I was never that great in science or math, even though I tried, but the idea that we could mix Sci-Fi with Fantasy, now that was intriguing. And throw in a little unexpected romance and I think you have a really well-rounded adventure. Humans are the root cause of the ending of the human race, so obviously humans have to undo what they’ve done, but your average person is just trying to survive the fallout.

Karou is caught in a war between angels and demons (the ultimate simplified description). And Karou is a main character I love to cheer for. She's just so witty and full of angst on a totally relatable level. She's having the mother of all identity crises and feeling the ultimate tug of war between the human world and a dimension inhabited by the strange creatures that raised her.

Pair that awesome premise with Laini Taylor's incredibly lush writing, and the story is just fantastic. I kept turning page after page not only to immerse myself in Taylor's beautiful prose but also because this story is just compelling. I've reread this entire series, and I loved it even more the second time through.

I’m not the biggest Sanderson fan. I like his books, but I don’t have a wing of my library dedicated to him. But Skyward in particular stands out to me. It’s a much more personal story.

Spensa is socially inept, misunderstood, and hot-headed. I loved that because I got to see her grow through struggle and failure like a regular person.

I’m not usually a fan of stories told in the first person either, but seeing the world through her eyes as she learned what courage actually means made the story impossible to put down. It reminded me that growth doesn’t come from destiny; it comes from persistence and the willingness to change, often at great cost.

This book made me cheer for someone who felt real in all the best and most frustrating ways.