100 Books Like The Saint of Bright Doors

This book is both a fascinating vision of a tumultuous world and a deep dive into the mind of a troubled and compelling protagonist.

The character work in this book is incredibly impressive, with the long arc of the protagonist’s development drawn in convincing and gripping detail that left me feeling like I had known this person for years through all their triumphs, tragedies, and mistakes, which is to say nothing of its creative and plausible magic, its socio-political commentary, and its meditation on family and grief. Rightfully recognized as a modern classic, it is a book all fans of fantasy should read.

This book sank its hooks into me and refused to let go. When this happens with a book, it’s often because I empathize deeply with the characters and care about their journey. Other times because the writing on a sentence-by-sentence level is beautiful and compulsive. This achieves both.

Simon Jimenez might be the best prose stylist working in the genre right now, and he uses that skill to great effect in crafting a beautiful, slightly surreal world. He also has a keen eye for character and the power to tug on my heartstrings like no one else. I felt hollowed out when I finished this book–in a good way!

In recent years, nothing has gripped with me a child-like sense of excitement and wonder like The West Passage. I read fantasy as much for the experience of wonder as anything else.

As a child, I daydreamed constantly about fantastical worlds and strange planets, and I want fantasy to transport me back to that imaginative mindset. But that isn’t all it has to offer. Every page is packed with strangeness and mystery but also rich with its characters' emotional lives and psychological foibles. I was delighted and intrigued from page one.

While Vonvalt–the titular Justice–sits front-and-center on the cover of this novel, I found myself more drawn in by the story's narrator, his apprentice Helena.

At first, she mostly seems like a Watson-type, a character primarily there to be the audience’s window into the world of her far more interesting mentor. But as the story went on, I was drawn in by Helena’s fascinating characterization–which grows more interesting as the trilogy continues–and by how she navigates the increasingly horrific corners of the world that her story reveals.

I love that the dedication is to the A to Z Challenge bloggers of 2014. (I was one of them!) Here's a well-written and comprehensive reference guide. There's a strong author voice and a great amount of information. It covers the importance of including diverse characters. I recommend The A-Zs of Worldbuilding: Building a Fictional World From Scratch to writers building a fictional world, and to writers using an unfamiliar setting. A necessary reference tool for authors.

I read this before I read the preceding trilogy: Phèdre’s Trilogy, and was well drawn in without the background knowledge that may have come from reading the two series in order. I later did read Phèdre’s Trilogy and enjoyed it, but it was Imriel’s Trilogy that really captured me. I love that while most Fantasy series will focus on aggressive politics and war, these series are more about the arts and diplomacy and humans being very human in all their facets. Imriel was a captivating character who I was eager to follow along with as I discovered the world he lived in.

My editor wrote to me a few years ago (mostly all-caps and !!!s) about a book called The Goblin Emperor, and had I read it, and didn’t she think I’d adore it? She was so convincing that I ordered a copy from my favorite indie bookstore right away and read it in a sitting. I almost cried when I realized Addison had written only one other book at that point—until a friend told me she was also the author Sarah Monette. I spent the next month reading everything in her oeuvre. But none I adored with my whole body being like I did The Goblin Emperor: its deep kindness, its gentleness, its world-building and warmth, its high stakes and heightened language, its arc of grace and growth. 

If you’ve ever wondered what life was like for the people living in the Americas after the last ice age, then read this book. Through the eyes of Young Hunter, we explore what we now call New England thousands of years before the first Europeans crossed the Atlantic. And through Young Hunter, we learn to use weapons, how to survive in the wild, Native American folktales and names, and we learn why Young Hunter’s people fear beings called the Ancient Ones. All of these worldbuilding layers are revealed as Young Hunter embarks on a dangerous journey tracking the creatures that attacked his people, with each layer drawing you in until you are as fearful of the Ancient Ones as Young Hunter and just as determined to face them.

I am so impressed by Pirateaba’s worldbuilding. While there are some fantasy staples in the series, like dragons and dwarves, there are also plenty of lesser-seen races, like gnolls and djinni, and some that are completely unique creations, like the Antinium and the Gazers.

What’s more, all of these races feel like they have their own identities and shared culture, and then, on top of that, individuals from each race are distinct! Two gnolls won’t necessarily see eye-to-eye just because they’re gnolls.

The character work in this book is so good.

Part queer love story, part sci-fi mystery, wholly delightful; this is my comfort read when the world begins to look too bleak and hopeless. This is another story with beautiful worldbuilding, and fascinating details, but the real beauty of it is the characters—complex, flawed, hurting, but loving each other through it.

The story is gentle, with enough intrigue to hold your interest but never mile-a-minute action, and one of the sweetest love-stories I’ve ever read, but the book never veers into the saccharine—as much as it is a love story, it’s also a story about the messiness of being human—impulsive, thoughtless sometimes, hurting and hurt, but trying ultimately to do the right thing, no matter the cost.