Fans pick 83 books like Black Sun Rising

I’m cheating a little here by recommending a trilogy but this was one of the best historical fiction I’ve read.

The series is about Prince Aeneas and the legendary story of the war between the Trojans and the Greeks. David Gemmell sets the scene prior to war from the POV of Aeneas, who was regarded as pirate but as the story progresses you learn more about his actions and why he keeps roaming the sea.

It is full of action and stays true to the unfolding drama of the Trojan War. For me, the historical backdrop and the research the author included was one of the main reasons this series wins.

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.

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… show more.

I couldn’t look at society the same way after reading this tale of how a group of schoolboys stranded on an island descends, step by step, into savagery. The savagery is inside all of us, and the veneer of civilization that our education puts on it is very thin and easily cracks. Haunting. 

This is possibly the best known book on my list, yet it took me a long time to discover it.

This is a thriller-style adventure that follows Nathaniel, a young magician’s apprentice on a quest for revenge, who summons Bartimaeus, an all-powerful djinni. Nathaniel (unwittingly) and Bartimaeus (unwillingly) get caught up in a tangled plot of magic-fueled mayhem in which they have to work together to survive.

Bartimaeus’ sarcastic observations and side tangents add an element of humor that keep it from staying dark and somber, while also highlighting the underlying threads of slavery and social injustice in this fantasy world.

I was a lonely child despite having friends and siblings. I was (still am) an awkward kid who only felt at ease with a book, a cat or two (or twelve), and a dog (or four). But the dogs of my childhood were not mine. They belonged to my siblings and parents, so I was beset with dog envy.

Family turmoil delayed my turn as a dog owner until I was a young adult. Through all those years of waiting and wishing, this book reminded me that the experience of owning and loving dogs is mostly wonderful, sometimes painful, and always unforgettable. What’s more, the rural setting was so hauntingly familiar that it may as well have been my own house, yard, and woods.

I first read the Belgariad as a series of books as a child. I love the banter between characters, the growth, and development of the characters throughout the story, the way that individuals impact the world, sometimes in great ways and sometimes in small ones, and how there is a contrast between good and evil, hope and despair.

It was this book that disabused me of the notion that fantasy had to be written in a specific way, often in highfalutin or profound language. It encouraged me to put my own stories into writing.

Though very much a historical fantasy novel, this book was easy to understand despite the unfamiliar terms and background details of a fantastical universe. I think it’s due to Katheryn Kurtz’s initial use of simple, down-to-earth language and a fairly straightforward story, which, looking back now, was probably aimed at teenagers or young adults. I was sometimes reminded of the first volume of JRR Tolkien’s epic novel, especially because the succeeding books got progressively darker and more complex.

In this introductory book, the world of the Deryni, a race of mortals with magical powers, is fleshed out so well that the kingdom of Gwynedd, its people, and its neighboring realms feel so real that… show more.

Royce Melborn is exactly the assassin I’d expect: scowling, suspicious, irritable, prone to violence, and scarred by hard life. So, of course, he ends up forming a team with Hadrian Blackwater, the most cheerful, upbeat swordsman in the world.

The “mismatched friends” and “grumpy/sunshine” flavor of the story was immensely fun—reminiscent of all my favorite buddy cop TV shows and movies—and did a wonderful job of anchoring me to these two characters as they fought their way through a world determined to harm them.

The dynamic between the characters is mirrored by a twisty-turny plot, a fascinatingly detailed world, and an epic storyline that kept me turning the pages to find out what came next. 

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… show more.