100 Books Like The Darkest Winter

Vampires kept me up at night when I was a kid.

When they got twinkly and dreamy in popular fiction, I was unimpressed. Then I read The Passage. These are your grandfather’s vampires, boys and girls, and they want to kill you. I loved the blend of horror, science fiction, and the dystopian near-future United States where the story begins.

From the scientist who wants to cure death to the quest a hundred years after the Virals appeared, this book is filled with a raw humanity and the struggle to survive that captivated me. It’s a long book, but when I finished, I dove right into the next one. I had to know what happened, and I needed another dose of vampires that scared the sh!t out of me.

I read Dies the Fire about twenty years ago and think of it often.

An unexplained phenomenon changes the laws of physics, so goodbye electricity! Gunpowder doesn’t burn either. From there, it’s mass die-offs and different factions trying to figure out what to do next.

I love stories that go deep into world-building, and this book does. From the sinister turn the Society for Creative Anachronism takes to the Wiccan and other communities that stand against them, the detail is rich but not overwhelming.

I loved seeing how people adapted and how early decisions took on a life of their own in ways no one could have anticipated. 

I could not stop listening to Deadly Lockdown because it was so exciting. I had to know what happened next.

I’ve thought of how I would get through different disaster scenarios (as you do), and a pandemic is the one that actually scares me. I’m not worried about zombies or an EMP, but a deadly disease? Egad. The pace of this story never lets up, and the characters were ones I cared about. I found them frustrating at times, but whatever they chose, I believed it.

One thing I really liked was the medical accuracy. Misty Zaugg is a physician, and her expertise made this ‘What if?’ story feel all the more real. And scary.

Sarah Lyons Fleming writes exceptional zombie apocalypse fiction.

I love her masterful characterization, the struggles beyond zombies she explores, and the human dramas that unfold. Her characters always face dilemmas beyond the immediate crisis, making them feel real. Unlike much post-apocalyptic fiction, Fleming avoids the "suddenly turning on your neighbors" trope—while people can be jerks or even evil, her approach feels more nuanced.

It was hard to choose which series to recommend because they're all great, but her Cascadia series is truly special. With well-drawn characters, gripping plots, superior storytelling, realistic relationships, and harrowing zombie encounters, Fleming's books demand rereading.

The audiobook versions are amazing if you prefer that format.

Nina is an absolute master of making things weird in ways that feel utterly natural to the world she’s writing. This starts on page one with ghosts hassling a school janitor about the impending death of two more students, and it never gets one bit less strange.

This is a book about living as an outcast, toxic family, homecoming, found family, and how sudden and unexpected love can be. On the wild side, it’s also about shapechangers, spellcasters of several varieties, ghosts, spirits, the Walking Dead, flying cars, and so much more. Every page is packed with magic, meaning, and the gentle wit that marks all of Nina’s work. If you haven’t read anything of hers, you’re missing out on one of the subtler masters of the genre, and I would recommend this as a great place to start.

When I want answers to my cocktail questions, I turn to Heather Wibbels, aka The Cocktail Contessa. What exactly is a “dash,” the least precise of ingredient measurements? Wibbels has worked out that eight drops equal a dash. No more over-bittered Manhattans! Her passion for cocktail making started when she joined the Bourbon Women Association, a group promoting the culture and enjoyment of American whiskey. After winning BW’s Not-Your-Pink-Drink cocktail contest three years in a row and being made the contest’s head judge, she was obviously the perfect person to write this cocktail manual and compilation of hers and other Bourbon Women’s recipes to celebrate the group’s 10th anniversary. All the classics are here as well as creative variations such as The Banana Bread Old Fashioned and Black Licorice Manhattan. 

This book sits on the easy-to-access shelf right next to my desk. With over 1,000 entries – drink recipes, definitions, bar equipment – it is a handy quick reference guide. The cocktail recipes even include an icon depicting appropriate glassware. It’s especially useful for looking up somewhat obscure ingredients. I’ll admit I didn’t know what Friesengeist was. The Herbsts give the pronunciation [FREET-zhen-gighst] and the definition, “A potent LIQUEUR from Germany. See also MINT-FLAVORED SPIRITS.” The capitalizations are cross-references. Peppered throughout the text are notable quotes, including this one from the great Julia Child, “Forget the cheap white wine; go to beef and gin!”

Booze books need not only to be filed all the way in the back of the bookstore in the “Food/Drink” section; the best deserve to be mainstream—and bestseller Pappyland proved that.

This is a dual memoir in some ways, following the rise, fall, and incredible rise again of the Van Winkle family and their grandfather Pappy’s vaunted and eponymous spirit, along with the story of Thompson reckoning with his own family lore and fatherhood. 

Clay Risen is a writer for the New York Times with an immense passion for whiskey and its history. It was he who broke the news that the famed Jack Daniels learned whiskey-making from an African American. Risen’s American Whiskey, Bourbon, and Rye is exactly what it bills itself as—a guide, and an incredibly useful one to the consumer. Risen provides a short history of whiskey in America, but most of the book provides advice. He helps readers make sense of the jargon used in the whiskey world, such as “straight bourbon,” “Tennessee whiskey,” and “white whiskey”. The book carries 300 reviews of American whiskeys, and its modest dimensions make it easy for the shopper to tuck under one’s arm. Don’t go whiskey shopping without it! 

Christopher Rowe's prose is beautiful, vivid, and engrossing. His vision of a future mid-South dominated by rogue artificial intelligence conceals amid its wild phantasmagoria a surprisingly perceptive tenderness for the ways people cling together as they struggle to adapt and make space for each other in a complex and massively changed world. These stories also communicate an engrossing, evangelical love for bikes and cycling like nothing else I've read.