Books like The Deathless Girls — picked by fans

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.

There’s not enough Muslim historical fantasy in the world, and this one is so lavish and full of aching romance—my favorite kind! It takes us from 18th-century Cairo, where con-girl Nahri accidentally summons centuries-old deava warrior Dara, to the fabled City of Brass, its walls covered in enchanted statues, home to rival clans of djinn.   

I love how the tribes of Deavabad reflect different parts of the Islamic world and its pre-Islamic culture. For example, the main djinn faith reflects Islam, whereas the deava faith with its fire temple reflects the Zoroastrianism of ancient Persia. It’s a complex, believable world in which I can immerse myself, full of revelations, betrayals, tugs of loyalty, and dilemmas of love.

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.

A grimdark fantasy in the tone of Abercrombie, Moss’s The Worthy is a brilliant debut that explores a fractious sibling relationship between brother and sister Prince Barsten and Princess Ailith, both of whom are battling to become heir to the kingdom of Crell. Ailith herself is hiding her lover, Lady Avalon, at the same time as trying to protect the kingdom when it quite literally begins to tear itself apart due to a mysterious magical entity. The book explores issues of patriarchal oppression, historic abuse and trauma, sexuality and homophobia. Despite the grim world and morally grey characters, I found myself drawn into this story because of the important themes it considered. 

I always get pissed off when I hear some guy ranting that feminists are anti-male. In fact, I think feminists are the most pro-male humans on the planet: in spite of 8,000 years to prove the contrary, they believe that men can be peaceful and loving, and can be equal and equitable partners with women. Liz Plank is one such woman. Her book shows exactly that.

This excellent collection of essays brings some of the key readings of Sophocles’ Antigone in an ethical and feminist key. It includes, among others, interpretations by Tina Chanter, Luce Irigaray, and Bracha L. Ettinger. In the fascinating lineup of chapters, the book guides us through political, psychoanalytical, and sexual genealogies and classical interpretations of this Greek myth, thus providing the authoritative scholarship on a female figure of Antigone.  

A hard-hitting work of theory that hinges heavily on Despentes’ personal experience in the worlds of punk and sex work, the French writer and filmmaker goes further than most in her demands for feminist solidarity. Brilliant, fun, and captivating, King Kong Theory sits alongside Paolo Freire, James C. Scott, and Emma Goldman in my personal pantheon of thinkers.

Jill is a little-known but fascinating novel from 1884 about a young woman who, bored of her upper-class life, runs away from home to become a maid.

Jill is everything Victorian women weren’t meant to be: ambitious, scheming, brave, happy to lie, and much more interested in money than marriage. She’s also a bit in love with the woman she works for, which Victorian women certainly weren’t meant to be either.

There is so much I love about Jill, but one of my favourite things about it is how it turns Victorian tropes and expectations on their head, taking the set-up of a typically male adventure narrative and giving it to the character of Jill. It’s a wonderfully proto-feminist Victorian classic and well worth a read.

I loved this atmospheric debut, often described as a collection of interlinked short stories. Set on an isolated group of islands off the coast of Virginia, the stories span more than two centuries of the same family’s history: from the 19th century and far ahead into a post-apocalyptic, post-pandemic future. There are intimations that a supernatural ‘second sight’ runs in the family and the book’s Southern Gothic vibe is nothing short of intriguing. But for all the hints of magic realism, the focus on female characters contending with obstacles of class and gender at different points in history is rooted in an understandable reality. Beautifully written descriptions of the natural environment, poignant characters, and local color all demonstrate Taylor’s imagination to be visionary and impressive.