Books like The Monkey's Mask — picked by fans

In this genre-bending novel, Ricky Rice is working as a janitor in an upstate New York bus station when he’s sent a ticket to Burlington, Vermont, with a note that reminds him of a promise he made years ago—a promise no one else could know about because he made it only to himself. There are a variety of crimes in the book, as well as several mysteries that unfold—not the least Ricky’s quest to understand the organization where he finds himself working.

As he does, he must sift through his past, including the narratives he’s grown up with and that he has used to understand and survive his world. I won’t tell you what the big machine is or how it works, but I loved this book and Ricky and the world he’s trying to (re)make. 

A reader begins a book only to discover that the same sixteen pages are printed over and over—so begins a journey across the beginning of novels and through continents. This is a book that breaks rules and taught me how to read it page by page—and I love that feeling.

Though first published in 1979, Calvino’s novel is remarkably timely with respect to the impact of data science and artificial intelligence on literature, as well as the “author’s position with regard to Trends of Contemporary Thought and Problems That Demand a Solution.”

Some might not consider this detective fiction, but I think—like The Aspern Papers (James) and The Savage Detectives (Bolaño)—the quest to find an obscure or missing text (or artist) fits within the genre and, indeed, is one of my favorite kinds of detective stories. 

In classical detective fiction, the story of the crime is like a puzzle, and piece by piece, clue by clue, we arrive at the big picture. Subdivision is, in some ways, a classic puzzle mystery (it even involves a puzzle!)—except it doesn’t start at a crime scene. It starts with a woman arriving at a guesthouse in the surreal and Kafkaesque Subdivision where she now lives. She can’t remember why she is there or really anything from her past.
Unlike more classical detective fiction, she is not a guide; I followed her—tracking, assembling, interpreting—but when certain elements of the real (maybe) slid into focus, they did so mostly despite her. I couldn’t put it down, and notwithstanding its fairly cerebral tone, I cried at the end.

The crime scene generally occurs near the start of a mystery—something incomprehensible and threatening the reader and detective will endeavor to explain by the book’s end. Sometimes, though, the world is the crime. In almost painfully beautiful language, this book sets us down in a frightening fairytale forest. We’re traveling with a failed detective looking for a runaway wife, but much of the investigative work emanates from the reader attempting—and often failing—to break through the atmosphere, through the visceral but unmappable feelings of danger and loss the text produces in order to find something that can be named, explained, neutered.

This is the kind of book that affected me sidewise; I never saw it coming, but it got me over and over again. The Spanish edition includes illustrations, the English a suggested playlist.

I read this straight through the day I found it, staying up way past my 13-year-old bedtime. The next day I sweet-talked my grandmother into taking me back to the bookstore to get the sequels. Morgon is an unlikely hero, gentle, practical, a farmer, and a master of riddles…wait a second.

Maybe he’s not so unlikely after all. The book begins with a family argument about the crown under his bed. It turns out Morgon won it in a murderous riddle game with a dead king. He's a man who can't stop asking questions and seeking the answers, no matter the cost, and that very bad habit leads him across the realm in a wild and deadly game of riddles against unknown and ancient enemies. McKillip's prose is witty and beautiful, and so is this book.

Once upon a time, the gorgeous covers of the Mercy Thompson series caught my eye and tempted me to taste urban fantasy. The stories turned me into an insatiable glutton. Night Broken is the eighth book in the series, and the way it handles a relationship under stress from a manipulative ex who plays the victim is chef’s kiss perfection. No silly miscommunication tropes here, thank you very much. It’s a solid story about two shifters who are confident enough in their relationship and themselves to deal not only with ex and pack drama, but also a terrifying magical foe. Talk about relationship goals. 

The final book on my list rolls into epic fantasy, with oracles and dragons and magic and prophecies… All sorts of stuff to really make the life of a girl who works at a coffee shop very confusing and difficult. Poor Davie gets thrown into the deep end but works to keep her head above water. Savvy and snarky, she got to me right away, but again, it’s the heart. She’s one of those characters that inspires loyalty from the people around her and you understand why. You want to be by her side too, even if she’s got a totally sardonic inner and outer voice.

This is one of my all-time favorites because of the banter and the fierce independence of the female lead.

I love how Suzanne Wright balances the primal, "feral" instincts of the wolves with sharp, witty dialogue that made me laugh out loud. For me, the chemistry between Taryn and Trey is the gold standard for werewolf romance.

I found the pack politics fascinating, but it was the undeniable heat and the "us against the world" mentality that truly captured my heart.

This book hooked me with the first sentence: “Half blinded by the storm, she stumbled into the open area between buildings.” Anne Bishop created a world with infinite care and remained consistent throughout this series. Although this is the first book, it can be read as a standalone. I felt immediately comfortable in Anne’s world and was able to slip right into the story.

Conflicts occurred, followed by dire consequences, yet detailed sex and violence were not used to carry the plot forward. Throughout this book, I felt as if her characters lived in my neighborhood; many of whom I would’ve wanted as friends. I became invested in them and wanted them to succeed. Dialogue was believable and flowed smoothly.

Normally, I catch errors in spelling and word usage in books I read, which slows the story way down. However, either I was too immersed in the story, or there… show more.

Lawlor’s novel gave me the best gift a book can offer: it changed my mind halfway through.

I had been so intrigued by the premise of a shapeshifting character who can change their gender at will, that I forced myself to read on even though I wasn’t enjoying the emphasis on sex, especially as conquest, and I was sorely disappointed the story didn’t seem to go deeper.

But as I continued, I was happy to be proven wrong. By the end of the novel, I was checking my own biases and prejudices and empathizing deeply with Paul and his/her/their struggles. Reading this novel was an emotional experience unlike any I’ve had with a book.