My favorite books that embrace the “strangeness” of science fiction

Recursion tells a time travel story in a way we don’t often see in science fiction, focusing less on the tech, and far more on the personal impact it has on the lives of each character. This isn’t the story of time machines—though the means of time travel depicted here is quite cool and unique. It’s a story about several people who become ensnared in a scheme to misuse the technology, and how quickly matters can go off the rails—with devastating consequences—even when you’re trying to do the right thing.

This book tells the story of a religious man selected to meet the most alien of aliens far across the galaxy, leaving the woman he loves in the process. But their physical distance is the least of their concerns as he finds himself starting to question his most core beliefs as a missionary, and becoming ever more alienated from his own people even as he struggles to communicate his new, alien-inspired insights. Faber wrote this book as his own wife was dying, and I have to think that feeling of urgency and loss was interwoven into this amazing story. As a result, this book is one that touched me so deeply that I’m not sure I could read it a second time though.

A Fire Upon the Deep is a galaxy-spanning book that’s about as wide in scope as you can hope to find. As difficult as it is to boil down into a paragraph, it remains a character-driven story that we follow episodically as we learn how they all relate. Whether it’s a pair of human siblings integrating with a strange pack of telepathic alien canines, or a human employee of a vast alien communication network working with an ancient universal entity to help save the galaxy, Vinge never shrinks from the most exotic of alien concepts, but—astoundingly—never loses the humanity of the tale.

Annihilation is unique in a world of unique books. The story is keenly focused on the lives of its protagonists, yet none are ever named beyond their professions. They are sent into the unknown, an area of land that is in a state of ecstatic transformation, possibly under the influence of an alien virus. They are sent to solve a mystery—namely, what became of the teams prior to theirs, the last of which included the husband of the main character.

The story is, at its core, a psychedelic story about an exploration for some common truth, both internal and external, and how elusive such truth can be. Just as interesting is its more superficial tale of transition, as each character, to some extent, finds themselves changing and questioning their mission, each other, and themselves. The story continues in several other books, but even as a stand-alone work, I was riveted by this setup.

In a way, Wool—actually a series of stories bound together—can be seen as both an odyssey and a chamber piece. What fascinated me was that the entire series (almost) follows the stories of several key people who live within Silo 18, a vast underground complex 144 floors deep. There, generations of people have built a self-sustaining culture because the outdoors is a toxic wasteland that is not only to be avoided but is best not even contemplated. Anyone who does raise questions risks being sent outside to find out for themselves… never to return.

But even as generational memory about the outside world fades, humans being humans, that itch for the truth never fully dies off. And as events inside Silo 18 escalate for our heroes, the push to finally understand what happened to the outside world—including whether other silos exist—becomes impossible to avoid.