The best fantasy books to make you laugh, then sneak up and punch you in the feels

I loved this book because it combines three of my favorite things—humor, fantasy, and baking. What’s not to like about a wizard whose familiar is a sourdough starter?

There’s a small army of hilarious gingerbread men, to boot. T. Kingfisher manages a weird balance between humor, horror, and heart. Her world, like ours, has some really dark stuff in it, but she has such a deft touch that I felt cozy even during murder, political scapegoating, and siege.

I love Pratchett’s work so much in general that it’s really hard to pick just one. His work was side-splittingly funny but also the very best kind of satire. He had pointed things to say about society while also making you care deeply about his characters and making you laugh until your face hurts. Do you know how hard that is?

In this book, the protagonist is a con man forced into trying to resuscitate a dying postal service. He’s petty evil, the kind of selfish who has never thought about what happens to his victims. By the end, you can’t help but root for him to triumph over the much less petty but equally hidden evil of systems and big money. But you also can’t look away from the chaos of ravening stamp collectors, hapless wizards, and a literal avalanche of dead letters.

Is it wrong to feel cozy while people are being digested by a monster? And yet. Shesheshen is a terrifying blob monster that has to eat and absorb people to use their bones to walk and talk.

She falls in love! Awww. She wants to lay her eggs in her love so they can feast on her beloved’s entrails. Ewww. This is straight-up horror. But it's somehow also funny and clever and heart-warming, even with all the murder.

I wanted to spend more time with Shesheshen, even though she probably would take the compliment by eating me for my shinbones.

Sometimes, I don’t actually want a lot of tension; there’s a reason this book kicked off a craze for cozy fantasy. I loved the relatively small stakes of an orc-turned-barista.

Watching Viv build herself a family out of the folks in her new town, binding them together in ways they had never before felt bound, reminded me how much we can accomplish in our own surroundings just by being kind. Sometimes, heroism is less about fighting with weapons and more about building something that creates warmth and community.

Technically, this book is science fiction instead of fantasy–aliens, spaceships, planet-hopping, check. But Adams isn’t particularly interested in the science or the predictive aspects as he is in finding a backdrop for his hilarious satire. His phrasing is so deft, his jokes so devastating that people are quoting him decades later. They’re still some of the funniest books ever written.

But there’s a bitter wounded heart under it all that comes out in a wistful strain of melancholy, which makes it all ring true. It’s funny because it has something deep and urgent to say about humans and our nature. But also because every traveler knows what he means by something “almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea.”