76 Books Like The City of Brass

This might be cheating a little, as the ‘dragon’ in this book is actually a giant robot-like mecha that is piloted by human soldiers, but I couldn’t leave this list without a mention of Iron Widow.

This is a fierce feminist fantasy re-imagining of China’s only female sovereign, Wu Zetian, and it absolutely pulls no punches. A furiously paced story of vengeance and redemption, this book was a thrill from start to finish.

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 love everything Juliet Marillier writes. She is so good at using her knowledge of folklore to create magical stories in which the heroine must save the day. This book departs from her usual Celtic setting, taking us instead to Transylvania in the time of the Ottoman Empire and a reimagining of the Twelve Dancing Princesses.

The setting takes five sisters from a crumbling castle at the edge of the Wildwood to the Faerie Kingdom at the heart of that wood. I love how the Wildwood seems to tailor itself to the ages and personalities of the sisters. So, five-year-old Stela spends her time with cute and playful creatures, while elder sister Tatiana falls under the spell of Sorrow, one of the Night People. Protagonist Jena has her own love story with the talking frog Gogu.

I first read this book when I was ill in bed, on strong painkillers, so the setting had a heightened quality in my mind that can never be replicated. But I’ve now read it several times (and watched the Netflix TV series), and it remains a wonderful book with great settings and characters, romance, and danger. 

Before I read this book, I knew very little about Chinese Malaysian society in the late nineteenth century, and it was fascinating to learn. I also loved the Plains of the Dead, where ghosts live in houses and eat food that corresponds to the paper funeral offerings burned by their families. Seventeen-year-old Li Lan must go there to seek the deceased young man whose “ghost bride” she is and stop him from haunting her.

Sometimes, you just want to retire and have a nice, quiet cup of tea. And world-ending magical plots keep getting in the way. Adoulla Mahmoud, once the best Ghul hunter alive, is just trying to retire. Unfortunately, the world has other plans for him. Alongside the pious warrior Raseed bas Raseed, and the shapeshifting Zamia Badawi, Adoulla faces the greatest threat yet. One that could destroy not just his favorite teahouse, but the world. 

While there is some good-natured humor within this book, Saladin Ahmed establishes right away with a torture-scene prologue that Throne of the Crescent Moon will be dark and gory. I love the magic system and the Arabia-inspired world. The only downside to this book is that Ahmed doesn’t seem to be working on the sequel. 

The Viper stalks at night. Esha the rebel’s highly trained assassin tasked with the murder of General Hotha and the undermining of King Vardaan’s rule. Kunal is an equally impressive soldier, the nephew of Hotha, and on the hunt for the Viper. When their paths cross, sparks fly, and loyalties are tested. 

Y.A. is ahead of general fantasy for representation, both of BIPOC and LGBTQA*. The Tiger at Midnight is heavily inspired by Hindu mythology and Indian cultures, bringing an incredible setting to an excellent Y.A. story. And the cover is absolutely stunning.

How could I not love a book set in an alternate Renaissance Venice? When modern-day teenager Lucien “stravagates” in his sleep to Belezza, he discovers a world of gondolas and bridges, spies and alchemy. I love the way Venetian customs are ramped up to fantasy proportions—for example, the traditional “marriage with the sea” involves the ruling Duchessa actually plunging into the lagoon—or does it?

The book moves between the fantastical Bellezza and the “real world” of modern-day Britain, where Lucien is a teenage cancer patient. Lucien’s increasing illness in our world provides added jeopardy to the adventures in Belezza, where Lucien teams up with Ariana—a plucky girl who wants to become the city’s first female mandolier (gondolier)—to save Belezza from the machinations of Rinaldo di Chimici.

I studied Dracula as a university student, so I love the way this book turns the latent homophobia, misogyny, and racism on its head by putting the “Brides of Dracula” and persecuted East European Traveller community center stage and giving us a tender, sapphic love story.

It’s set in the fifteenth-century Romania of Vlad The Impaler—here called the Dragon—when people believed in lele (forest spirits) and strigoi (undead). For me, the most memorable setting is Boyar Valcar’s castle, where twin sisters Lil and Kizzy are taken as slaves. The black-and-red uniforms, the cliff-edge pool, and the unforgettable incident with the bite wine put even the Dragon’s strigoi court in the shade.

While some people may not think of genies (or jinn) as monsters in the same category as Bigfoot or dragons, from a cultural and folkloric point of view they definitely are.

Most Americans probably think of the wisecracking genie in Disney’s Aladdin, but belief in genies is both serious and widespread. In his book Legends of the Fire Spirits journalist Robert Lebling describes how the creatures appear in the Koran (hint: it’s closer to the recent film Three Thousand Years of Longing).

They are in some ways the Muslim equivalent of Christian angels, imbued with magical powers and viewed by the devout not as real and tangible as you or I. What I love about this book is how Lebling reveals the real stories of jinn—in both their wonder (granting wishes) and terrible vengeance (mass murder).

As with all monsters, whether you believe in them or not is… show more.

I enjoyed Mafouz’s marvelous retelling of the Thousand and One Nights. Although Mafouz sets the time in mediaeval era, the novel is a political fable with contemporary overtones for any authoritarian government.    

Arabian Nights and Days, tells the story of the Sultan, Shahriyar, and his entourage of rotating police chiefs, spies, and informers. Many of the same characters from A Thousand and One Nights appear in his version: Sindbad the Sailor, Aladdin, Shahrazad and her sister, Dunyazad. And characters do tell stories to one another, but Shahrazad is not as prominent.