100 Books Like The Dark is Rising

I’m going to stick my neck out and say that, in my opinion, this book is the greatest ever retelling of the Arthurian story. Why do I love it? Primarily I think because his characters are so well-defined and crafted—they have feelings and families, emotions and frustrations—and are frequently not at all heroic. 

I love the elements of the book that play out within the animal kingdom—the rigid, controlled society of the Ants, the free and liberal existence of the Wild Geese—all brought to life by an author who was a renowned natural historian and who is using the power of his fantastical imagination to provide insight into the broad spectrum of political models and options for ruling. 

I first read this book when I was studying Politics and Philosophy as an undergraduate, and I was blown away by White’s insight, humanity, and the choices he… show more.

Although this is not Mary Renault’s first novel set in Bronze Age Greece, it’s a classic.

She retells the story of Theseus in his own words, but not as a simple hero tale. Set long before the Trojan War, much takes place in Minoan Crete where Theseus performs his first heroic act.

Renault depicts the advanced Minoan culture and Mother Goddess religion intriguingly and gives fresh interpretations, from the character of Theseus himself to the Minotaur in the Labyrinth and what follows.

First read while I was a college student (not for a class), this book inspired me to one day create my own mythic retelling.

Ever since reading this book, I *can’t* think of the original version of the Iliad without referencing his haunting retelling from Patroclus’ perspective. Miller did such an incredible job putting me in the story and making the characters so real that I actively missed them when I put the book down.

It doesn’t hurt that it has some of the most beautiful poetic language I’ve encountered in story form. Helen is more of a background character playing her classic role, but I was still fascinated because Miller plays on the demigod aspect of both Helen and Achilles in a way that makes them steal any scene they’re in. There’s a quiet power to them that transcends the page.    

I love this series of three short novels enough to have read it more times than I can count. The language of the novel is simple and evocative. I love the main character, a young wizard who starts out as proud, angry and arrogant, but becomes deeply compassionate when his hubris leads him to make a tragic and evil use of magic.

I could feel myself grabbed by the world of the novel, a world of men and dragons, of islands dotted in an endless sea, of powerful mages who interfere at their peril with the precarious balance of the world between good and evil. 

I loved The Voyage of the Dawn Treader because I felt like I was truly sailing into the unknown.

I imagined myself standing on the deck, watching strange islands appear on the horizon, and I shared the excitement and fear of discovery.

I admired how Edmund and Lucy grew braver, and I found myself rooting for Eustace as he struggled to change—I saw parts of myself in his stubbornness and his transformation. I felt lifted by Reepicheep’s unshakable courage and hope. I loved how every challenge reminded me that I, too, can face the unknown and keep moving toward the light.

I read this book many years ago as a young adult. Along with other classics such as Alice in Wonderland, I fell in love with a world of imagination, and imagination that pushed the envelopes in terms of literature.

Time travel for me had a place in changing the lives of characters and teaching them about love and growth. Taking on one’s life challenges and force play, good vs. evil…  

Magic is real. To wield it requires sacrifice.

Its allegiance shifts and changes over time. To hold it, Houses of Magic put on an epic tournament at every Turning, where their best and brightest act as champions in battle. But what the champions don’t know, because their elders have never taught them, is that the magic itself draws from a dark source, and that source is crumbling.

Powerful magician Sydney has emerged from The House of Shadows to fight for a sponsor who wishes to establish his own house. But Sydney has first-hand experience with the darkness.

And she doesn’t want to help restore the establishment. She wants to burn it to the ground.

A fast-moving, gritty, wholly satisfying read. 

I loved this book from the first page. There’s something both eerie and comforting about a boy raised by ghosts in a graveyard. I was enamored by the atmosphere, soft fog, ancient tombstones, and strange creatures lurking just out of sight.

Gaiman has a gift for writing stories that feel like old folktales, but are still fresh and full of heart. I didn’t want it to end because I fell in love with the idea of this unconventional “family” protecting a boy as he grows up surrounded by the dead. It’s dark, magical, and unexpectedly warm.

While you read this story, you step into a world where magic and science intertwine, where armored bears rule the icy north, witches soar through the skies, and every person has a daemon—a living reflection of their soul. The adventure takes us across breathtaking landscapes, from the bustling streets of Oxford to the frozen wastelands of the Arctic, uncovering secrets that shake the very foundation of reality.

Lyra’s journey is thrilling, full of mystery, danger, and a sense of wonder that never fades. Philip Pullman weaves a story so immersive and thought-provoking that it makes us question everything we think we know. It’s a book that sparks curiosity, adventure, and just the right amount of rebellion.

This book was like a fisherman with bait on the hook. I was the fish; the fantasy setting and the author’s magnificent ability with words were the bait.

Mary Stewart was, of course, the sportswoman out to snag something in my soul. I was prepared to be entertained, but the story carried a surprising amount of weight, asking questions like What do we live for? Can humanity ever be enough? Merlin came into an understanding of his place in the world — not through romance or fantasy adventures as we so typically read —  but through internal revelation.

With his journey, I was invited into soulful reflection and some uncomfortable truths of my own. In the end, I decided Mary Stewart knew very well what she was doing. The stinker.