100 books like The Outside

Autistic minds are uniquely suited to interface with 26th-century computers. Has this led society to appreciate autistic people? Of course not! Instead, they’ve been turned into a caste called Operators, enslaved computer programmers denied human rights. But this is starting to change, and recently-liberated Operator Hoshi Archer has a new life as a private investigator. Her latest case? A serial killer who’s ritually murdering Operators. Dora Raymaker vividly describes autistic experience in a way that no non-autistic writer could, and it was profoundly moving for me to read a book written from the viewpoint of a character whose sensory processing was so much like my own. On top of all this, Hoshi and the Red City Circuit is a gripping can’t-put-it-down detective thriller!

Seriously, I’m not exaggerating, and I say this as someone who’s read all the works of Philip K. Dick: Wallflower Assassin is without exception the weirdest, wildest, most psychedelic, and gleefully anarchistic book it’s ever been my pleasure to encounter. Our narrator, Jack, has near-total amnesia, induced by a trauma he can’t remember (because amnesia). He’s stumbling randomly between alternate universes, stalked and manipulated by agents of the sinister Reality Patrol. Oh, and he’s not in his own body––his mind has somehow been transferred into the body of a deadly former Reality Patrol assassin named Max. And Max’s mind is still in there, too, disoriented and annoyed at Jack’s presence... And all of this only just begins to scratch the surface of how weird it gets.

Transgender anarchist author Margaret Killjoy’s collection of short speculative fiction stories, We Won’t Be Here Tomorrow, is a stark contrast to the dazzling high-tech fantasies and cinematic adventures of my first three recommendations. Most of these stories are set in disturbingly plausible and not-at-all-distant futures, and veer into the territories of dark fantasy, gritty dystopianism, and atomspheric horror. No interplanetary space opera here; Killjoy’s protagonists are earthbound, anarchistic outcasts and misfits struggling to survive on the edges of society or in society’s ruins, in worlds gone unfathomably strange. And Killjoy writes it all beautifully, with a clarity of description that often left me stunned by its simple poetic power. This one’s for you if you like your speculative fiction close to the bone.

Okay, I’m bending the rules just a little bit here. We’re not supposed to include our own books on this list—and this isn’t my book, but I am one of the three co-editors. No list of essential neuroqueer fiction would be complete, though, without mention of the annual Spoon Knife neuroqueer lit anthology. Spoon Knife accepts fiction of all genres, plus some short memoir and poetry; anything goes, as long as the editors deem the content and style to be sufficiently neuroqueer (and each volume has a different team of editors). I picked Volume 5 for this list because it’s a volume that ended up including a lot of speculative fiction. Pieces by 24 authors, all wildly different from each other, each one a strange little neuroqueer gem.

This book seems a bit strange at first, when the story begins with Moon-Watcher, the leader of a tribe of early ape-man, who struggles for survival during the brutal Pleistocene ice age. After an alien monolith appears, it seems to advance the way he thinks, leading him to develop crude weapons. When the same monolith is discovered in the future, we seem fated to find the answers behind the eerie structure. Skipping to a team of astronauts who travel aboard a ship to further investigate, things take an unexpected turn when the ship’s A.I. called HAL-9000, gets very confused about keeping secrets. Something about the way it remains so polite while it deceives the crew, is enough to give anyone a nightmare.

The first sci-fi I ever read, plucked from a dusty shelf on a mission compound in Niger. The physics explanations were beyond me, and honestly still are, but the astronomical imagery rewired my nine-year-old brain. This is a book (and series) that melds the rigor of hard SF with the scope and imagination of the best space opera, following the remnants of humanity as they flee inscrutable, implacable AI monstrosities. It makes the universe feel visceral and terrifyingly beautiful, and makes the reader feel like an ant.

Biko and The Thief follows Lindewe Glover, a thief attempting to rob the starship Stephen S. Biko while its passengers are in stasis.

After her attempt is derailed, she must reckon not only with the ship’s mother AI and unforeseen defenses, space pirates, and the dangers of deep space, but also with the prospect of spending the Biko’s entire flight time awake and alone.

Her profession may be dubious, but her plight is anyone’s nightmare. Greene’s episodic storytelling will leave you curious about Lindi’s survival and the repercussions of her foiled theft.

The great thing about this one is how closely related the magic and technology are—the magic is really used to manipulate technology. For example, Mechanists can tap into the inner workings of machines, while Datamancers can comb through data even better than AI. The book features fantastic action sequences at a breakneck pace, and a lovable rag-tag team thrown-in together to defeat a terrifying villain named Mother.

Bill, the Galactic Hero is a satirical novel by Harry Harrison published while I was still in my teens. It’s funny, it’s satirical, and still delivers a good plot. Harrison also wrote the fabulous Stainless Steel Rat books. Taken together Harry’s novels taught me about the use of humor in military books—and literature generally. 

Illuminae is the first book in a YA science fiction series called the Illuminae Files Trilogy.

The story is told through intersecting first-person narratives constructed from journals, letters, texts, reports, and pictures. You want to absorb all that “found footage” goodness on paper. Trust.

There’s almost no exposition in Illuminae, especially in the first few chapters. That’s the beauty of these books – the narration is so visceral and urgent that you get invested in the story long before you really understand what’s happening. Putting the pieces of the world-building together is an addictive mystery in and of itself.

I don’t recommend cracking open this book the night before anything requiring a good night’s rest and lots of focus – your mind will be in 2575 until well after you’ve finished the last page.