100 Books Like The Aviary

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.

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?

This book takes what would seem–on the surface–to be an incredibly grim and morally gray story and frames it such that it can be read by younger audiences. I read this book when I was eleven years old, and it truly laid the groundwork for my current love of dystopian sci-fi.

The premise is unique, the characters have complex motivations, and the stakes are endlessly high–after all, humanity was in a bad enough position that it was willing to drop a hundred teenagers on an irradiated planet. In my opinion, such a difficult decision casts a very realistic light on the characters, as their actions could very well happen in the material world. It’s just a matter of how desperate mankind gets.

I love this book because of Katniss Everdeen's depth. She’s not just another “kickass hottie”, she’s complex, with a powerful character arc driven by a deep sense of responsibility.

The book’s commentary on mental health and Katniss' parentification resonated with me personally. The story world of all the districts and President Snow's iron grip on them is well-drawn and has parallels to our own, too. 

This book features a sort of contest between “real-world” and “fantasy-world” accounts of the hero’s behavior.

Some warriors experience “the Thrill” when they fight: battle is invigorating (because it gets your blood, oxygen, and adrenaline flowing); this is the stuff of modern psychology or biology.

No, wait, the Thrill is basically a supernatural being. Naturally: Sanderson’s world incorporates creatures who appear when various strong emotions are in play. But his handling of psychology is realistic in other respects, so that explanation makes sense, too….

But why does the Thrill affect the hero more than others?  Maybe he’s just a bloodthirsty barbarian. No, wait, he has a special relationship with the supernatural creature. But doesn’t that mean they’re kindred spirits, and maybe the hero is a bloodthirsty barbarian?

This is a new dystopian matriarchal novel, first in a series, that I’ve just discovered. Interestingly, it’s been described as the opposite of The Handmaid’s Tale.

The story is of a female-controlled society in which men are kept imprisoned and used as breeders. Neen, a female scientist who is interviewing men for their potential as sperm donors, begins to question the status quo when some of the men she meets don’t fit her preconceptions.

I was attracted to the book because its story is comparable to my book, but the tone and world-building are completely different. I loved the plot twists and the focus on ethical dilemmas.

This is the first book in a series. It was my grade school introduction to the concept of young adult post-apocalyptic themes. The fact that one of the central characters is a visually impaired young man who finds a pair of life-changing eyeglasses was a big deal to me. This might be the book that solidified my interest in post-apocalyptic literature. The fact that this apocalypse is the result of an alien invasion is just icing on the cake.

In Missing Pieces, marriage partners are matched by science to produce healthy children. There's no room for personal choice or alternative lifestyles. Best friends Piran and Tracy are matched to other people, yet they know in their hearts they’re meant to be together. Are they brave enough to leave everything behind to live the life they want? Missing Pieces depicts a clinical approach to marriage and family and uncompromising attitudes about love and sex. 

I was so engrossed in this book I stayed up all night to finish it! I was completely swept up in the story of Tracy and Piran’s forbidden friendship that ripened into forbidden love. Their whole society was constructed to keep them apart. Matched partners were desperately unhappy, but no one dared speak up for fear of ostracism, disfigurement, and banishment from the community. It seemed like it could never happen—and yet repression and coersion… show more.

In a list of dystopian futures, Mackintosh’s book sits a little unsurely. It’s a dreamy, otherworldly novel, and we’re never quite sure when or where it’s taking place. Three sisters live in isolation with their parents, avoiding an outside world ravaged by contagion – but is the threat real or imagined?

I love this book for its strangeness: it’s an uncanny fairy tale, partly set in some kind of decrepit Victorian seaside retreat for lady hysterics, partly set in the woods where wolves (or men) may prowl.

Mackintosh builds layered dystopias, where both the diseased, brutal world of male violence and the claustrophobic, emotionally manipulative "care" of home and family threaten the sisters’ security. This hazy fever-dream of a book stayed with me for a long time after I finished it. 

This is actually a children’s novel that I first read at school, and it had a big impact on me. It’s not so well known, and there are other books called "The Guardians", so don’t get confused. This novel was written in 1970 and is set in the not-so-distant 2050.

The world that John Christopher created for this novel really captured my imagination, the difference between the overpopulated "Conurbs" (from conurbation) and the privileged "County" (a land of rolling hills and manor houses).

It’s not too far-fetched, and I think that’s why it spoke to me, as I could easily envisage the world of 13-year-old Rob Randall, who dreamed of escaping the state boarding school in the Conurbs to go to the County. Rob doesn’t fit in and digs a hole under the Barrier that separates the two worlds.