The best science fiction and fantasy books for exploring new worlds

I had been reading Heroic and Epic Fantasy for years, and I’d purposely avoided reading Sci-Fi, convinced that it would influence my burgeoning plot development. I wanted to maintain my plot integrity and not be subconsciously led by other authors in the genre (but of course I couldn’t avoid the influence of the SF I watched on TV). Of course, I was missing out on some great writing. I was enthralled by this story—it combined an undead trope with space opera, as the ‘risen empire’ maintains its territory while facing an external threat from the technologically hybrid Rix. There’s a fascination with the potential of biological augmentation and the place of AI in our distant future (consider ‘immortal’ humans against potentially ‘eternal’ hybrid humans), but this story is extremely character-driven and concerned with the place of the individual. The fictional science was breathtaking and not without research, but what stuck in my mind was the drone warfare, something I used in my own book. Note that The Risen Empire is the first book of a series, and many plots are not resolved in this volume.

Pawn of Prophecy was the very first novel I ever read for pleasure, loaned to me by a friend who remains responsible for much of my artistic influences. It opens the immersive and character-driven 5-book epic fantasy series, The Belgariad (which is itself part of a larger sequence of books). Pawn of Prophecy plays on the ancient trope of ‘the hidden child’ dating back to pre-biblical tales (in the Bible, you’ve got Moses, Josiah, and later even the Jesus story in Mark features this trope); in which Garion notices himself watched by a mysterious figure while his Aunt Pol hides her own secrets and raises the boy in purposeful obscurity. Garion, of course, has a world-shattering birthright and a destiny awaits him.

There’s some wonderful worldbuilding here, although as I matured in my own writing, I began to consider Eddings’ nations/races as very one-dimensional—every member of each given race acts in stereotypical fashion. That said, Tolkien’s work was arguably the same; and Eddings (and his wife, as it transpired) immerses us in a fully realised fantasy world that you might say magnifies characterisation by way of the nations to which his characters belong. I still think back fondly to this introduction to writing fantasy and worldbuilding in general.

I had never planned to read this book, but by a strange twist of fate, it became highly influential for me. I saw the cover art first, featuring the protagonist with his ‘coldfire’ blade and with the dark creeping lines of magic at his feet—this became the basis for an early rendering of the central character in Kiranis.

Rising focuses on a dark power that attacks the minds of humans, thriving on their fear. There was a wonderful tone to this dark fantasy story that permeated the creepy forests in which I recall most of the action taking place; and the anti-hero at the centre of the story occupies this gothic, almost Victorian Stoker-esque world. Tarrant was an ‘evil’ character with the hope of redemption through a woman he falls in love with, and this story, alongside my reading of Gemmell and Feist, taught me how to create more depth to my characters.

While the background to the story is that of our distant descendants migrating to another planet, Black Sun Rising is not Sci-Fi—it’s very much a dark fantasy; and it opens the Coldfire Trilogy.

This was the first Feist book I read, back then having no knowledge of the enormity of the Midkemia universe and yet to read Magician (oh, to be young again!). Shadow is the first book of the Serpentwar Saga, starting decades after the events of the preceding Riftwar Saga. Aside from the building scope of this book and its introduction to the breathtaking scale of events to come, I can still recall the tone and clarity of the scenes in which young Erik, initially an apprentice blacksmith, is facing the noose. For me, Feist captured the dread and hopelessness of impending nothingness, and…well, I won’t spoil it.

There’s a massive plot developing, as you’d expect from Feist, but I think this was probably the first time I’d appreciated the political and military machinations of large-scale campaigns, and it wasn’t just one day there’s peace, the next there’s war. That sense of impending doom at the gallows is magnified a hundredfold as we realise the scale of things to come, as the Saaur, the Pantathian priests, and the Dark Queen herself come into the picture—only to learn that they all have their own doom snapping at their heels. You don’t have to read Riftwar before this—at least I didn’t, and I enjoyed Riftwar just as much afterwards—and it’s an excellent introduction to the work of this wonderful author.

No list of mine would be complete without a title from my favourite author; but the Troy trilogy is a bittersweet masterpiece—Gemmell died before it was completed. Thankfully, his wife took up the work from his extensive notes and it’s graciously unclear as to where in the final book the transition is made. She captured his voice tremendously.

As a lover of the Classics, it didn’t take long for me to get fully immersed in this reimagining of Homer’s Iliad, with the excellent characterisation and worldbuilding you’d expect from Gemmell. It also incorporates echoes of the author’s love of biblical stories (playing on the claims to a potential overlap in the chronology) and ancient Roman literature—especially the Aeneid (Virgil’s attempt to appropriate for Rome the legacy of Troy). If you enjoy epic historical fiction/fantasy, this is an absolute must-read. The research is clear, the passion for the ancient world and this tragic tale more than evident. Check it out.