55 Books Like The Face of the Waters

What if reproduction required people to mate with another species—creatures more alien than bacteria?

In this book, Lilith Iyapo awakes after a nuclear war to find her alien saviors expect just that. The alien Oankali are organisms whose cells modify their own genes to perfection. But their genes run short of diversity, until they are compelled to share genes with a population as alien to them as—humans.

This disturbing novel asks us how much of our own humanity would we trade for survival? Would I welcome a half-alien child if its monstrous traits cured cancer? A science fiction novel that made me imagine the biological dilemmas of gene exchange.

This may have been the first time travel book I ever read, though I didn’t anticipate the life-changing significance back in the halcyon days of middle school.

At a time of awkward, pubescent change, its story about identity, isolation, and the pursuit of individuality struck a chord, enough that I still think of it decades later. The sci-fi premise is simple but haunting: a shed where time passes differently becomes the backdrop for a psychological duel between brothers.

Revisiting it recently through adult eyes, the prose is understandably spare—it is young adult fiction, after all—but the introspective core and emotional resolution remain impressively resonant.

In this novel, human beings have been nearly wiped out and scattered throughout the galaxy when a drug derived from our unusual binary brains becomes the most sought-after recreational narcotic in the universe. 

One human woman and her ragtag crew might be able to save the human race—so long as she can keep straight which reality is real: the one where she plays the hero, or the one where she’s the victim.

A wild, neo-pulp ride through a world like Star Wars crossed with the underground ZAP! Comix, the ending will punch you in the gut and remind you why we flee to fictional worlds.

This story imagines a human colony on an alien world that is both terrifying and surreal. 

One by one the colonists meet strange fates or murder each other, until they all wake up to discover the entire sequence of events was a virtual reality—a diversion designed to occupy them while awaiting an unlikely rescue from otherwise certain doom. However, elements from the virtual reality escape into the waking world, leading to salvation for at least one of the voyagers.

This book will keep you guessing right up to the end, and beyond, making the reader consider what is real, what is religion, and what do we want most out of life.

David Hill’s research is incredible and results in a mind-blowing account of how not only convicts, but their guards and sailors, would colonise Australia, enduring the most brutal hardships. The transportation is described, and it is a miracle that anyone ever reached the destination in the leaky, unseaworthy ships. The enterprise was poorly-planned and underfunded, resulting in appalling suffering.

With such a shocking start, it is a wonder that Australia ever developed into the wonderful, successful country that it is now.

This is probably the most obscure book on this list, but it’s also one of the absolute best.

I knew little about the topic—the fate of Britain’s convicts during and after the American Revolution—but it grabbed me by the collar and refused to let go.

Full of empathy and precision, Emma Christopher takes us into the bowels of Britain’s penal world, and I love how she turns what could’ve been a grim topic—convict transportation, punishment, exile—into a deeply human saga of endurance, injustice, incompetence, and improvisation that ranges from Virginia to Africa to Australia. 

This is a gripping, suspenseful, atmospheric mystery set in colonial Australia with an enigmatic pairing of a convict and a housekeeper who investigate a series of murders in the penal colony of New South Wales.

It has an intricate plot that keeps the reader guessing and is built upon a historical foundation that adds authenticity to the tale. The brutality of the transportation system contrasts with the humanity and tenacity of those who rail against it. 

As my stories all have a colonial Australian focus, with a commitment to accurate history, this book rings a bell for me. There is much about the background, the atmosphere, the setting, and the language that resonates with me, and it is a cracking good read to boot. 

This is a heavy tome, but it is really compelling reading for a history buff like me. Hughes tells the story of the British colonisation of the continent we now know as Australia by focusing on details, details, details—and people! This is not a dry academic book taking the reader through a timeline. Instead, I like its focus on the people at the basis of this brutal period in the history of Australia, associated with huge human costs—both for the convicts forcibly transported half a world away and for the Indigenous population.

Hughes is a storyteller, and he does engage in some speculation, but overall, his facts hold up, and so this book is a must-read for anyone with even a passing interest in how modern Australia developed over the past 250 years. 

This is a novel about the savagery of convict life in the Australian penal colony.

It made me realize that the idea of escape is often better than the reality. That sometimes you are better off with the misery you have than the consequences of trying to escape it. This was particularly relevant to me as I was planning a prison escape around this time. Had I followed through with that escape my life would not be what it is today.

Tom is an old mate, and a magician with words. He is also a prodigious researcher. Books: yes. The bibliography in The Commonwealth of Thieves runs to seven tight-packed pages, divided between primary sources (three pages) and secondary sources. The bibliography is underpinned by no fewer than 27 pages of notes. The Australian history I was taught at school was hogwash. Tom has set it straight in this brilliantly researched and off-the-wall history of our early days.