Books like The Iron Dragon's Mother — picked by fans

I very nearly stopped reading this book–even though it’s so short as it starts off unbelievably abstract. I didn’t know what was going on, and the descriptions only added to the confusion. But I’m so glad I kept going.

The main character does amnesia in the most charming way, and discovering his past and the strange world he seems both lost in and totally at home in was absolutely enchanting. This has stuck with me ever since, like the most vivid fever dream.

For a more traditional take on fantasy, Sofia Samatar’s A Stranger in Olondria is lovely and immersive, a fascinating new world worthy of Ursula Le Guin and Gene Wolfe.

Reportedly, she created Olondria from a combination of regions in Turkey and North Africa, and it feels absolutely fresh and instantly powerful. A teenage merchant becomes haunted by the ghost of a young girl and must find a way to put her to rest.

But the story is really about the power of books and stories and language itself. It’s a love letter to adventure and open seas, harbors, and alleys, and snowy mountains in the distance.

Ms. Samatar holds several advanced degrees in language and literature, including Arabic and various African dialects, and you can feel the joy of her verbal artistry dancing on the page.

Stranger is not to be missed.

You know how you go somewhere you’ve never been and you feel hollow in your bones, like you’re more fragile there, you might blow away in a strong wind or just melt down if this place doesn’t learn to recognize you?

Amatka is like that, and it’s about that. We follow someone trying to diligently do a perfectly normal market research gig in place where everyday objects must be clearly labelled and the labels reinforced constantly, otherwise they dissolve into slush.

She has to keep putting things in their place, but she’s not too good at that, because she’s always been out of place herself.

I mean, isn’t that exactly what life is like? And then it all falls apart.

Death in Spring is a tiny book containing a bigger, more intricate world than many a doorstopper, for all that the whole story set in a small, nameless hamlet.

Life there too is made of strange, violent rituals, only not the ones we know. We follow a boy growing up and learning them, and being scarred by these mysteries—what do they fill the mouths of the dead with, before they are killed and put into a tree forever? (It’s cement.)

Rodoreda wrote in Catalan, and Tennent’s translation is fluid and beautiful.

Perfection is a rare thing; if you want to see what that looks like, here you go.   

This book resonated deeply with me because it explored the intricate layers of human nature, beautifully encapsulated in the quote, ‘To know what a person has done, and to know who a person is, are very different things.’

The gripping narrative, based on a true story set in 19th-century Iceland, draws me into the life of Agnes Magnúsdóttir, a woman accused of murder, as she awaits her execution. Kent's masterful storytelling skilfully delves into Agnes' complexities, making her a character so vividly real that I fervently hoped for a different outcome despite knowing the inevitable fate that awaited her.

This emotional investment and the stark portrayal of the human condition left a lasting impact. Kent captured both the darkness and light within us all.

My all time fav Humorous Murder Mystery (now out of print but still available currently in the anthology He Do The Time Police In Different Voices) British author David Langford's The Spear of he Sun is set on a spaceship. This gem is simultaneously a terrific Locked Room murder mystery; the best Father Brown story I have ever read (and I've been a Father Brown fan for decades); a wonderful cozy mystery; and a fantastic parody-pastiche of GK Chesterton, The Roman Catholic Church imprints, and Isaac Asimov's SF Magazine, all three at the same time. It's tears-of-laughter-pouring-down-your-cheeks funny, and a Hall-of-Fame-Quality of murder mystery if read straight. Don't miss it.

I loved this book because it was equally gripping and thrilling as it was funny. It’s impressive when a book so seamlessly weaves real-world experiences and pop culture references with the sci-fi aspects of a dystopian world.

I loved the main character, Frankie, and how she was relatable yet completely unique. Her humor and love of movies,  I also loved how it was thought-provoking without feeling like a soap-box political book.

This book was like a quirky Black Mirror-esque cautionary tale of where our society could easily be heading, with plenty of laugh-out-loud moments. I liked how Bryan Johnston took reality TV and made it extreme.

An Agatha Christie-style mystery set in Buenos Aires. At two in the morning, Pancho Soler returns drunk to his apartment building on Santa Fe Avenue. He presses the button for the lift, and it arrives with a surprise inside: a beautiful blonde woman, sitting upright, but dead. Many of the suspects who live in the building are recent immigrants from Europe and, as the novel is set in the 1950s, their memories and secrets from WW2 are still fresh. Boris, a Bulgarian chemist who worked for the Nazis, is the most entertaining of the lot. There are the usual red herrings and revelations in the search for the murderer. The young Argentinian detective is a little flat by Christie's standards, but this is a satisfying whodunnit.   

It's all about the unlikely alliance between a woman and her clone in this gripping revenge thriller.

Evelyn Caldwell learns that her husband Nathan is cheating on her when she discovers that he has stolen her cloning technology and replaced her with a more docile substitute. They work together to conceal Nathan's murder and preserve Evelyn's scientific reputation.

However, Evelyn discovers her clone standing over Nathan's body and crying, "It was self-defense." Its juicy premise raises eerie questions about love, justice, and the nature of identity.

Many of the women in my family worked in domestic service. I do know that their work lives were not easy and their employers were often quite demanding. Still, each time I wander into the Victorian era where Mrs. Jeffries is housekeeper to Inspector Witherspoon of the Metropolitan Police, I imagine that my grandmother or my aunt is one of the household staff who Mrs. Jeffries organizes to do a “behind the scenes” investigation and provide the Inspector with the right clues to solve his cases.