Fans pick 89 books like Assassin's Apprentice

There have been too many novels featuring the story of King Arthur to count; this is my favorite. I found it (and the following two books in the series) really captured the idea of who Arthur was, why he was needed, and why he did what he did at the time for me.

It was the first Cornwell novel I read, and he has become my favourite novellist. I think he writes battle scenes better than anyone–he puts you in the middle of the action and makes you feel the visceral nature of combat (especially in his Arthurian and medieval books). If anyone is looking for a place to start with Arthurian fiction but doesn’t know where to begin, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend this book and series. 

Three worlds in one book! There’s the not-so-important world of the Ancelstierre, roughly Edwardian or early-20th-Century-ish, and there’s the Old Kingdom, basically medieval, where Charter Magic wars with Free Magic (and how well Nix thinks through the workings of his forms of magic).

But the third world is the one that takes the cake! An underworld of the dead, with its different levels, gates, and sills. Sabriel discovers her own special inheritance and powers—OK, that’s standard fantasy fare, except that Sabriel’s powers are those of an abhorsen. It’s the Abhorsen’s role to make sure that the dead stay dead, and journey on down into the deeper levels of death. Of course, the dead who keep coming back are the ones who drive the narrative!

Like The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Frank Herbert’s book tells the story of a man who could be the villain or the hero, depending on who you ask. I love watching how an intelligent yet malleable person can be swept up in feelings of duty, responsibility, and leadership only to make highly questionable decisions.

Paul Atreides’ moral ambiguity is undeniably engineered by the shifting and slimy political landscape of the Dune universe, driving home the idea in my mind that good worldbuilding can set the stage for truly complicated characters.

Clarke transports the reader to England during the time of the Napoleonic Wars. There is, however, one small twist: magic once existed in this world and has now returned through two men, drastically changing the course of history and society.

The story is rich in gothic atmosphere and wry humour, and is positively bursting with ideas (there are almost 200 footnotes!). Clarke imbues her protagonists with conflicting approaches to the pursuit of knowledge, with Norrell representing cautious rationality and conservative methodology, while Strange embodies an adventurous spirit and a willingness to embrace the arcane and often the dangerous.

This book was one of the first assassin books ever written, and it’s a masterpiece of classic fantasy. The character is exactly as brooding and dour as I’d expected, but the moment he saves a young woman and her two orphaned companions, I understood there was so much more to him. And over the course of the book—and all his books—I saw those layers stripped away piece by piece and the grief-stricken man beneath.

The story was action-packed in exactly the way I wanted it to be, but it also profoundly explored nobility, morality, belief, and faith. The final scenes of the trilogy had me in tears, something not easily accomplished.  

Of the five recommendations I made, this one is the heaviest. Historical fiction set in Germany during WWII, and having our main character be a poor German girl offers such an interesting juxtaposition of the starkness of the global stage with homelife for Liesel.

Another reason I love this book: Death as the narrator. So awesome giving Death a voice and imagining how he might think/feel. I also love how multifaceted all the characters are–they are full of both light and darkness, but it’s their decisions that determine if light will shine in such dark times.

I've added this one by Stephen Covey to my Favorites because its insights impacted me. Though some of its terms may show their age, the timeless wisdom within resonates powerfully.

Covey's message about personal responsibility and the power of choice seems even more relevant today amidst a landscape of growing self-entitlement. His words ring true: "We are free to choose our actions, but we are not free to choose the consequences." This stark reminder amplifies the book's significance and enduring relevance. I

found it an essential read for my personal growth and character.

I loved how the novel doesn't reveal right away what it is truly about but lets it dawn on you and then invites you into a moving family story. Another tale of humans and apes, it made me feel the joys and repercussions of deep bonds across species and between siblings.

I was moved by a family that begins as a scientific experiment, struggling to find love and justice and what we like to call humanity, though maybe we need to find another word.

In most stories, animals don’t exist for their own reasons—their purpose is simply to serve the needs of the main characters or the machinations of the plot. In Barn 8, however, chickens not only have agency and their own raison d’etre, but they catalyze every single major turn of events.

I love the premise—a group of unlikely activists decides to free the million-plus chickens suffering on an egg farm—and its quirky, clever style. But the best part is the chickens at the heart of the tale. Unferth gets inside their heads, showing their loyalty and love, their distinctive personalities, and their undeniable, fierce intelligence.

It's a captivating glimpse into the inner world of extraordinary animals who deserve to be the heroes of their own stories.

This book introduces a very good series and was responsible for encouraging my love of science fantasy – some of which I write. While I have tried to keep away from more famous authors, this one got through because it really is that good.

As with all good science fantasy, it has various levels, some of the deepest making one think, or you can just go with the flow and enjoy the yarn. That is something I also strive to do with readers, well, I try to.