60 books like Ammonite

Kage Baker is an Isaac Asimov compared to Terry Pratchett’s Marx Brothers. In the Garden of Iden is more sci-fi than fantasy, including time travel, cybernetics, and nanotechnologies. And love and loss. This book is part of a series of novels that Baker crafted about time-travelling enhanced humans who carry out critical tasks throughout history. 

What I loved most about this book is how very human her main characters are. Like Pratchett and Bill Shakespeare, Baker is a master at showing us human nature. Her comedy is high comedy. I laugh because I recognize myself in her characters. Baker has a fine eye for the subtle and the absurd. And yet unlike many humorous authors, the tragedies of the heart are always at the core of her stories.

It’s too easy, in time travel fantasies, to imagine that you would feel a step above the people around you... that you alone know what’s coming, and just, in general, have your advanced-future-person perspective on the world. That’s not how history should feel. The All Clear series’s time-traveling historians arrive to observe the London Blitz and have that comforting certainty ripped out from underneath them. They’re left lost, alone, and isolated in a well-painted portrait of a world on the edge of collapse.

Darwinia was the first novel I read by Robert Charles Wilson, who I believe is the best modern-day science fiction writer. Darwinia was a novel I had to read twice to really grasp how brilliantly Wilson had woven everything together. This is one of those novels where the ending can sneak up on you and blow you away and you weren’t even remotely prepared, which is preferred over any ending that I can predict.

Not all books about the past have to be set in the past. In the far-flung future, deep in interstellar space and surrounded by impossible living technologies, an amnesiac takes part in a sociological experiment to reconstruct twentieth-century middle-class living. Glasshouse is, among other things, a playful, bitter, and funny takedown of both the era and the impossibility of actually reconstructing history. The paranoia engendered by twentieth-century living is only far too justified by the interstellar conspiracy that’s ensnared the study’s participants.

Multidimensional books tend to focus on either the existence of higher and lower dimensions, or on parallel universes. The Dark Forest (book 3), like my novel, is one of very few that take the string theory approach rather than show parallel universes.

The Three-Body Problem is an epic three-novel series that takes you from the cultural revolution in the ’60s, all the way to…well, the end. There’s a lot of cryogenic freezing to get the main character through time. 

The final theme of the series, introduced in The Dark Forest, is the unfolding and collapsing of dimensions. In the first book, a radio telescope operator finds out that we aren’t alone. A battle with the alien species ensues, including a scene in the Panama Canal that convinced me to spend a few days visiting the modern marvel. It’s well worth the 1500+ pages.

I loved this book for many reasons growing up but I think first and foremost because it was one of the first books I had ever seen with an illustration of a black child on the front cover aimed at children around my age. It was also turned into a TV series and I remember realising at this point in my early teens that there are so many ways that a book can be interpreted. Not just in the minds of their readers but through different creative mediums and this really excited my imagination as I have been acting since I was small and very involved in many different forms of music. This made Whizziwig, a story about possibility at every turn as the subject matter is also about chancing upon an alien life form in your backyard with whom the protagonist becomes friends. Plus, it was the first… show more.

I love the entire Dune series, but most readers don't get past the first book. The characters retained the growth and development from the first book and we see how they continue to deal with their differing struggles, like Chani who desperately wants children, while Paul knows that her desire will bring her death. Unable to marry Chani, Paul has taken a wife, in name only, but the woman loves him and desperately wants to be loved by him. I saw myself in these two women who wanted such simple things, but for reasons out of their control, were not able to have them. It made me realize that sometimes we have to let go of what we want and just be grateful for what we have, for as long as we may have it.

If you want to look for a precursor to the modern trend of retelling fairy stories as sci-fi novels, you could do worse than look at The Snow Queen, which unashamedly draws its inspiration from the Hans Christian Anderson tale of the same name. But to talk of Vinge’s novel in those terms is to do it a grave disservice. This is a brilliant example of someone using sci-fi’s fascination with technology and aliens as a mere backdrop to something else. Beyond space travel and intriguing devices, The Snow Queen is a love story, an examination of cultures (Vinge has a background in anthropology), and a poignant plea about the dangers of over-exploitation. Come to The Snow Queen for the writing alone. Even if you loathe sci-fi, I can almost guarantee you will love this.

Two fantastic cities are even better than one.

At the center of the story is Spearpoint, the tallest skyscraping megabuilding that you could imagine. It is so enormous that it is divided into segments from bottom to top with different levels of technology (Horsetown and Steamville at the bottom, cybertowns, and then the fantastic Celestial Levels at the top). But wait, there’s more.

Roaming the rest of the planet is the Swarm, hundreds of giant aircraft that function together as the neighborhoods of a “distributed city” much like the fleet in Battlestar Galactica. The very different cities do not play well together, and you get to choose which one you’d rather live in. I like flying, myself.

Song of Scarabaeus is sci-fi, not fantasy, but it definitely has that perfect blend: just enough adventure, just enough sci-fi/fantasy, just enough of a love story. The relationship between the two characters, a scientist and her bodyguard, creates instant on-page tension. I can’t spoil why, but it’s an interesting life-and-death situation that kept me turning pages. With this captivating plot, great characterization, realistic dialogue, and expert worldbuilding, I wish I could erase my memory of this book and experience it all over again.