Books like The Two Georges — picked by fans

I love Star Wars, and I’ve been a Star Wars nerd forever. This book jumps into an Imperial conspiracy to restore the Empire using the ghost of its old leader, Grand Admiral Thrawn, who was long thought dead. 

I read this one thinking that the “conspiracy” was upfront and required no special thought. Still, two of the key players—Borsk Fey’lya and Major Grodin Tierce—are playing their own games within games, creating an interwoven conspiracy I confess I didn’t see coming until I read it. When I re-read the book, I looked hard to find their clues, and I had to carefully study each to find the underlying markers. It was an enjoyable, if jolting, way to delve into Star Wars lore.

When I think of Heaven, I think about angels, bliss, and no more sorrow. I don’t usually think about political machinations, rivalries between angelic factions, and alliances of convenience with demons. However, in this book, I found that the afterlife isn’t what we necessarily think it is, and I loved that both Heaven and Hell have their own agendas.

Doloriel, an agent of Heaven, navigates a delicate balance of keeping his boss angel happy while not losing his own soul. This task becomes more difficult when he meets a demon consort named Casimira. I found it riveting that he and Casimira discover that their bosses have their own plans, plans that might not always match the images we know of Heaven and Hell.

I always hear that disaster brings unity, but what if that “unity” was all a manipulation for power? Hidden Empire reminded me a little of the immediate aftermath of 9/11. I’ve wondered if, given our political divisions, we could ever come together like that again.

Orson Scott Card created a world where someone manipulates our division and desire for unity, and I loved seeing how someone could play us on so many levels. Reading about the use of a common enemy to wipe out national leadership and then playing up our political differences to create chaos, I became engrossed in a story about political intrigue and whether or not a savior was the hero we really wanted or the hero he wanted us to believe he was.

Fighting off alien invasions has become a passé, so I’ve wondered what living on a conquered Earth, one where resistance was gone, would be like. How would we live? Way of the Pilgrim showed me that, along with what humans are willing to do to survive and, in some cases, thrive in such an environment. 

While I like reading about our better natures, it has always been our baser desires that have always enthralled me. Shane Evert is a cross between a selfless hero and a man with his own interests at heart, and his plans for humanity clash with his desire for comfort. In the end, he leads his own conspiracy and finds one among the aliens he never imagined could exist.

One of my biggest influences, John le Carré, has supplied a whole generation of readers with (mostly) Cold War-era thrillers that proved sharp, incisive, minutely constructed, and often fun (in a quintessentially British manner). 

A legend of the craft, le Carré fathered a child, Nick Harkaway, who happens to share the same predisposition for precise and compelling espionage stories with memorable dialogue. For those of you familiar with le Carré’s work, you’ve heard of George Smiley, one of his most recognizable characters—an anti-James Bond with a self-effacing persona and an unassuming stature who is, in fact, lethal and highly effective.

Karla’s Choice is his last adventure, penned by the master’s son himself. It is a tour de force in characterization and the relentless dissection of human nature and its unpredictable wanderings. Some of the best dialogue and tradecraft you’ll ever read, set against the backdrop of a developing Cold War… show more.

Laetitia Rodd is the kind of detective I wish we saw more often—an older woman whose intelligence and social skills make her a force to be reckoned with. I was completely charmed by her quiet determination and ability to navigate the constraints of 19th-century England while solving a deeply intriguing mystery.

This book made me feel like I was stepping into a world of candlelit corridors and whispered secrets, and I loved every moment of it.

After life as an unpaid servant to her clergyman cousin, Annabelle Archer’s ecstatic to win a scholarship to Oxford from the National Society for Women’s Suffrage—even if accepting means participating in the group’s political campaigning. A drive to sway influential gentleman to the cause lands Annabelle and her new suffragist friends at a house party given by the haughty Duke of Montgomery, a man far more interested in winning back the family properties his father lost gambling than in debating married women’s property rights. Until he starts debating with Annabelle…

A familiar story, plot-wise. The joy here comes from Dunmore's lovely writing, deft characterizations, and the palpable tension she creates between two people on opposite sides who fall into desperate, exhilarating, and completely unwanted love.

This book is a glorious exhortation to live, even when—especially when!—death is lurking. It takes place in the plague of 1666. I used to have a bizarre fear of the bubonic plague (like I imagined it was in my closet and, if I opened the door, it would escape out into the world), so it’s strange how much I love this book.

I think it’s because Anna, the main character, is such a force. She repeatedly reminds me to connect with the natural world and myself and then to stretch and reach beyond what I thought I was and who I thought I could be. It's magic.

Menewood, the name of the valley where she builds her personal stronghold, picks up where Hild ended. I simply had to find out what happened next! It was a riotous journey of violence, hunger, and work, yet also the raw beauty of her world: trees, birds, valleys, and hills. Her language continues to be rich and abundant with details, good and painful.

The political complexity and even savagery of her time echo our own. Yet Hild remains a unique and complicated woman who is heroic in every sense of the word. Again, the actress who read the book does a stunning job, especially pronouncing some very foreign Saxon names. I look forward to the next book, which I insist must be a series. After all, Hild will become a powerful abbess at Whitby. 

Patrick O’Brian’s beloved Aubrey-Maturin novels are as much about music as they are about the navy.

Captain Jack Aubrey and surgeon Stephen Maturin meet at a chamber music concert in the opening pages of this first novel in the series. The scene prefigures the way they will one day play duets at sea on their cello and violin.

I love how the opening scene uses music to establish their contrasting personalities. Jack, who is all enthusiasm, can’t help himself but beat time to Locatelli’s String Quartet in C Major. Stephen insults Jack by telling him he is ruining the concert; if he’s going to beat the measure, he should at least not rush. What could have led to a duel ends in a lifetime of friendship.