100 Books Like Winter's Orbit

This book is unhinged in the best way. I love Gideon’s unique voice. Around her is a deadly-serious necromancer murder mystery with interplanetary stakes, and she cares more about cracking dirty jokes and finally eating some warm food. Her relationship with her arch-nemesis/only friend Harrow leaps off the page.

I love the scene where they get into a pool so Harrow can finally confess to Gideon her darkest secret—so hot and so disturbing all at the same time. While this book isn’t technically a romance and the genre feels more like a horror fantasy set in space, I couldn’t resist putting it on the list. As Gideon says to Harrow, “One flesh, one end, bitch.”

Reading this book reminded me that understanding another person is a continuous struggle, and that we lose the most when we mistake appearances for truth. Even for someone like Genly, an emissary whose role is to bridge cultures, truly understanding Estraven proves painfully difficult.

What stayed with me was the tragedy of that gap: how insight often arrives too late.

Estraven’s sacrifice, made so that Genly could reach safety, and Genly’s decision to visit Estraven’s family afterward, left me with a lingering sense that remembrance itself carries moral weight. Sometimes understanding cannot undo loss, but memory—how the living choose to carry it—can still salvage a trace of good from tragedy.

Le Guin’s novel taught me that empathy is not a destination, but an act that must be fought for, again and again.

When I finished this book, I was a little heartbroken because I didn’t want to leave that crew.

I love how Chambers builds a world that doesn’t put heroes on a pedestal—a world full of ordinary, flawed people trying to understand one another while doing extraordinary work in an uncaring universe.

It taught me about quiet courage, the kind that doesn’t need destiny to feel meaningful. It made me believe again that kindness and curiosity can be forms of rebellion.

I come back to the Wayfarer whenever I need reminding that connection, not perfection, is what makes us human.

The Space Between Worlds is less time travel than it is parallel dimensional travel but I think it’s worth fibbing for.

Cara is a traverser – someone who can travel between different versions of her world. She retrieves data about those worlds – what went wrong and what went right – and brings it back to her own for study. She can do this because the Caras in these worlds are all dead. Except when one isn’t, royally mucking up her job.

This book is gritty and queer (though I’m not going to promise an ending wrapped up in a bow) and the method of travel the author created makes for a unique and thought-provoking read.

This book inspired my love of sci-fi romance. I adore the characters and the deceptively simple premise. Cordelia Naismith is a badass survey captain stranded on a wild planet with only her enemy, Aral Vorkosigan, known as The Butcher of Komarr, for company.

As they trek through the wilderness, Cordelia gets to know Aral and realizes her assumptions about him are all wrong. Originally published in 1986, this book launches the Vorkosigan Saga—my favorite sci-fi series. What I love about this book is how Bujold takes the time to let Cordelia and Aral get to know each other as people and bond on a deep emotional and intellectual level. They may be on opposite sides of a war, but they recognize the humanity in each other.

I adored this book. I fell in love with the male main character, Commander Graham Gore, a Victorian explorer brought into a near-future London via a time travel machine. The author deftly handles how Graham might experience the modern world. His relationship with the narrator is complex and fascinating, and gets very sexy!

Bradley explores themes of colonialism, climate change, and identity within a thrilling time travel plot and swoony romance. I think her style of sci-fi romance—exploring big ideas within interesting, exciting stories with characters you root for—could be the next big thing in publishing. I can’t wait to see what she writes next.

I loved the fun enemies-to-lovers-back-to-enemies romance between “memory merchant” Liv and rookie foreman Adrian, set against a disturbingly realistic dystopia. In the world of the Metro, people have traded security for real experiences.

They’ve never tasted real food, spent time in nature, or seen the stars. Instead, they are constantly grinding to keep up their productivity scores. I was drawn to the critique of the gig economy and the use of technology to maximize efficiency over humanity. Dystopian sci-fi is back, baby!

I loved that this book’s inciting incident is the toppling of a many-tiered wedding cake of a British royal couple. The cause? The immature tussling of a prince and the U.S. president’s son? (Adults, mind you. They’re adults) And because of that, they have to pretend to be friends, pals, buddies.

And as with most fake-relationship-themed books, the fake friendship soon turns into real love. Even though both Alex and Henry are outrageously advantaged individuals, I saw them as people—people in love—and not as a representation of their class.

Perhaps the thing I love most about McQuiston’s writing is the idealism and hopefulness she brings to the story. The obstacles Alex and Henry must overcome are literally international and yet, she can boil their love down to the simplest of gestures—and make it seem realistic.

This is another book with a very relatable main character. I’ve been in Dom’s shoes, trying to navigate complicated friendships while also dealing with my own life struggles and insecurities.

Being able to connect with the main character so deeply made the payoff at the end incredibly satisfying. And his love interest, Bucky, was truly swoon-worthy. 

This book has a provenance that’s almost like a prison sentence: released in 1953 under the title Cast the First Stone, it would have been Himes’ first novel, but its frankness about homosexual relationships in prison and the fact that a Black writer had written white main characters, made publishers shit their pants and doctor the life out of it to make it conform to 50s market expectations. Of course, in the process, they ruined it.

But in 1998, Old School Books released Himes’ "director’s cut,” a much different, more beautiful, raw, and thoughtful book that’s as much about prison life as it is about the prison of masculinity. Paradoxically, prison seems to be a place where people indulge homosexual desires, though the atmosphere somehow remains homophobic.

Reading this book could foster more compassion for queer desires, whether those of prisoners who identify as LGBTQIA+, or those who claim… show more.