100 books like Among Others

Welcome to a world where the inhabitants are androgynous, able to manifest both male and female genitalia. A world where you can be both a mother and a father of your children, where gender roles and expectations make no sense. I was absolutely astounded by this book when I read it many years ago. In a beautifully told sci-fi tale of political intrigue and adventure, I found myself constantly confronted by my limitations in terms of gender equity. 

For what LeGuin called her “social science fiction” and “thought experiments,” LeGuin created worlds—canvases really—where human foibles, conflicts, values, and ideas could be played out to their logical conclusion. This is one of her best.

LeGuin writes, “All science fiction is a metaphor,” and that is certainly the case with her books. Brilliant metaphors that shine light not so much on other worlds but on our own. I taught TLHOD in high… show more.

The two main reasons I’m including 334 on this list are its structure and themes. This is an intricate mosaic novel built around a series of interconnected tales set in an apartment building, following characters through a four-year period.

It explores ideas like people inhabiting such subjectively different worlds that they can’t truly communicate with each other, the visibility or lack thereof of class lines, and the ultimate futility of crime, virtual reality, and cryonics to provide any true solution to life’s woes. Irony, art, and death are always a stone’s throw away.

Disch’s mastery of style and the rhythm of his prose are also on display in this book. Besides his brilliant fiction and poetry, he wrote several volumes with strong opinions about science fiction, reflecting his deep, if critical, engagement with the genre. My novel includes more than one reference to this complex and visionary artist.

When I discovered this book as a teenager, it exploded my understanding of what science fiction could do. After revisiting it recently, I found its absurdism, dark humor, and satire to be as fresh, funny, biting, and original as ever.

Voice is probably the most distinctive literary characteristic of Malzberg’s vast short fiction output, of which this collection contains a number of 70s gems. This work showcases some of Malzberg’s obsessive interests, like alienated astronauts, hallucinating patients, assassinations, and the deconstruction of genre tropes. Malzberg’s commentary on science fiction and fandom–the recursive strand in his work–links it directly to my novel, which mentions his work explicitly.

The stories in this collection are short but savage, genius, offensive, and maniacal. You’ve been warned! 

As a teen in the 90s, I bought a lot of used science fiction paperbacks from the 70s; I loved this tribute to that era’s key artists and their signature styles. I found this book to be much more than a pretty exercise in nostalgia, however, weaving in smart historical commentary and creating an interesting context for works through subject-related groupings like “Life in the Future(s)” and “Cryptozoology and the Paranormal.”

By chronicling the science fiction art of the time during which Jason Velez in Equimedian is active in fandom and builds his collection, this thorough, gorgeous survey doubles as a kind of extended universe artifact for my novel! It’s a beautiful resource that includes full-page reproductions of stunning covers (including some by authors on this list, like Malzberg), and I find that it inspires me to continue exploring the strange byways of 70s science fiction.

White Oleander, the 2002 film, was one of the most shocking and nuanced depictions of motherhood I had ever seen onscreen—I had to read the book. What most transfixed me about the story is, on the surface, Astrid’s mother and foster mothers had everything society tells you should make life a cakewalk: beauty, ingenuity, and, in one case, wealth.

But the truth is, they are all battling a host of demons, ultimately blessing and cursing Astrid with their flawed, life-worn wisdom. Even still, I love that author Janet Fitch never sacrifices the women to easy “bad mother” stereotypes. It’s clear each mother is mostly doing the best she knows how to outsmart a world riddled with traps.

This is another novel I enjoy teaching; students respond well to it. Desai excels in giving detailed domestic pictures of life in India. Here she recounts how an ungainly disabled daughter with what seems to be epilepsy and a learning disability is largely kept out of sight by her upper-middle-class family in the 20th century. The daughter, Uma, goes away with assorted other characters, finding a measure of freedom, but invariably needs to return to her parents’ confining house. At the end of the novel, she is largely taking care of them. Desai shows what we might call a “feminist ethic of care” as she writes of a disabled woman as interesting and worthy of sustained attention, which implicitly feeds into advocates’ contention of the value of all disabled people.

I stole this book off my mother’s shelf when I was fifteen, and no book has ever hit me as hard regarding the complexities inside female friendships.

While I was enthralled by the love triangle in this book, I think the greatest love story Blume has ever written is Vix and Caitlin’s honest, imperfect friendship, revisited year after year as they summer together in Martha’s Vineyard. 

Great adventure doesn’t always mean jungles, star-wastes, or derring-do. The human heart – what one poet called "the wilderness behind the eyes" – can be as electrifying as any firefight. In this tradition, Alice Munro won the 2013 Nobel Prize in Literature. Lives of Girls and Women is her second novel, and like all great adventure stories will tell you more about yourself than you ever suspected. As Sir Walter Scott said of Jane Austen: "That young lady has a talent for describing the involvements and feelings and characters of ordinary life."

There’s a spookiness to this historical story that pulled me in straight away. But the adventure of children soon exposes a deeper chasm of heartbreak, and the vulnerability in young lives. Here in the mountain village superstition houses fear, crippling a community at large. That parents are the guidepost for how a child perceives themselves, and how they function and see the world as adults is something to think on. The Last Sin Eater teaches us all another way to live that is filled with goodness and grace.

In this book, George Eliot’s novel of provincial life in 1830s England, nearly everyone marries the wrong person. Even the future happiness of its heroine, Dorothea, when she finally unites with her true love, Will, is questionable. And yet it stands for me, not only as one of the finest novels ever written but one of literature’s greatest romances.

Virginia Woolf famously wrote that it is a novel “for grown-up people.” I believe it is essential reading because it reflects real life where couples are mismatched, love goes unrequited, and ambitions are thwarted. It illuminates the small ways our better selves become compromised—and the larger gestures by which we are redeemed. As Eliot’s characters zigzag their way to each other, it is love that brings this redemption. How very romantic!