100 Books Like Thud! A Discworld Novel

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.

This one leans heavier on the laughter, lighter on the thinking—but sometimes a little bit of fun is exactly what I need.

It’s a chaotic mash-up of The Hunger Games and Ready Player One, except with far more laughs and a talking cat. It’s the first in a long series (which I admittedly haven’t finished yet), but even on its own it’s a blast: action-packed, darkly funny, and weirdly endearing.

I fell in love with the two main characters and happily followed them into the madness.

Do you know what makes life-and-death drama better? Throwing it in a pot with a healthy dash of family drama and stirring vigorously. Rachel Aaron understands that, and I love that almost all of her series effortlessly blends the importance of apocalyptic disasters with the difficulty of dysfunctional familial relationships.

And sometimes–just sometimes–the characters get a little healing along the way.

This book does one of my favorite things: deconstructing and reconstructing tropes. It goes ahead and uses Jin, the main character, to critique everything that doesn’t quite make sense in the cultivation subgenre, and then it later uses other characters to validate the same tropes it earlier poked fun at. 

On top of that, the contrast between a relaxed Canadian farmer and his ultra-chuuni “death before dishonor” rooster never fails to be delightful.

Does Terry Pratchett seem a frivolous choice compared to my others? Not at all. There is deep and humane wisdom hidden in his Discworld humor. 

In the eternally recurrent conflict between Dwarves and Trolls in the Discworld, the board game Thud (a parallel world echo of the Scandinavian hnefatafl games) plays a pivotal and, ultimately, crucial role.

The story's hero is Samuel Vimes, a favorite avatar of Pratchett's. Vimes is a recovering alcoholic, depressive policeman who through chance and a stubborn inborn streak of decency and sense of fair play, happens to end up as the Duke of Ankh Morpork (the Discworld equivalent of London) and mediator between the two warring tribes. It's his job to find the point at which they can at least agree to not slaughter each other.

I found so much to love in this story of found family and hidden magic—an enchanted isle, a guardian wizard and his rabbit familiar, and a young woman with a concealed past, all devoted to one another.

The bonds between the wizard, his adopted daughter, and their rabbit familiar were simply lovely, and the sacrifices they made in their quest to save what magic remains in their world were compelling. Despite trials the characters endure, the story still captured a cozy feel which would make it a fantastic winter read.

Though The Magician’s Daughter stands alone, I’d love a sequel—I didn’t want to leave these enchanting characters behind!

I can’t get enough of this novel about a group of young women making their way into the world of publishing in New York City. A window into what it was like to find a career, fall in love, and negotiate life as a single woman in the big city in the 1950s, Rona Jaffe’s book was a watershed when it was published in 1958. I think it should be required reading for all women, regardless of whether they work in publishing, or have ever lived in New York. 

Who are you, and why do you have expertise or a passion for the topic/theme/mood of the book list you created?

I love a good legal thriller, especially one that focuses on character. The intern of the title is young and hungry, eager and ambitious. But she’s got a secret, one that would cause her to lose her job if the judge she’s working for found out about it. Not that the judge doesn’t have her own secrets.

Told from both the intern and judge’s points of view, I was on the edge of my seat, waiting to see who would discover the other’s secrets first.

This heartfelt but bitingly satiric novel explores the ridiculousness informing how tech companies operate.

This novel hit me in a surprisingly deep way. It follows a young woman trying to maintain her connection to humanity—and stay employed—in an increasingly technologized world. The joke is that she’s the driver of an autonomous taxi. Yeah, it’s about a tech company with a fleet of autonomous vehicles and human drivers hidden inside.

It felt so true to me, the perfect symbol for the uselessness of so much tech, the desire of tech bros to replace humans with machines, and the toll on those of us who want to live lives of meaning and connection.

I am in awe of Susan Straight’s Mecca. 

Set in the inland regions of Southern California, far from glamor, this novel contains a cross section of characters from California’s past, present, and future, all connected by blood, by place, by history. It begins with an act of violence committed to disrupt a sexual assault, and that act has consequences that echo through decades. The landscape, beautiful and treacherous and fire-prone, acts like one more character.

The novel ends with a standoff between the characters we’ve grown to know and love and ICE agents—a haunting and newly relevant image. A tremendous work of art.