100 books like Echo

I am not frightened by Cthulhu, the tentacled monsters waiting in the depths of outer space or the ocean. I am mesmerized by them. Lovecraft, often labeled a horror writer, is one of the greatest literary fantasists. His imagination is boundless, and he is as adept at describing strange new environments as he is at evoking a sense of cosmic dread.

This classic novel combines Lovecraft’s signature monsters with an incredible dreamlike atmosphere that grips you and does not let you go. When you stand at the summit of the Mountains of Madness and glimpse what lies on the other side, you are torn between fear and fascination. For me, at least, fascination always wins.   

I first read this book when my baby son was teething. I cradled him in my arms, walked around, and kept reading, unwilling to put it down. Since then, I have reread it several times. The goal of fantasy and science fiction is to transport you into a different world, and Silverberg, a veteran SF writer, knows how to do just that.

The impossible mountain of the book, the Wall, so tall and so sheer that nobody who tries to climb it comes back unchanged (or comes back at all), has loomed in my imagination ever since. I want to be the one to scale it and to find out what waits at the summit. And even though I know the ending, the thrill of discovery is still there every time I reread it.

I love ghost stories. But I am rather tired of old houses with creaky furniture. The strangest and most dangerous monsters lurk in the wilderness, in the remote and inaccessible corners of the natural world. And what is more remote and inaccessible than Kanchenjunga, the third-highest mountain in the world, located on the border between Nepal and India?

I have always admired those mountain climbers of the past who, with inadequate equipment and minimal knowledge, braved the unknown dangers of the heights. Paver’s beautifully written novel is a historical mystery and a ghost story at one, whose final twist is as vertiginous as the pinnacle of the sacred mountain. 

I love cats and mountains. Both are unrequited loves. I am allergic to cats and have a mild fear of heights. But this is precisely the reason why I am fascinated by informed descriptions of mountaineering in books, especially if the climb leads the reader toward something strange and otherworldly.

Climbing the famous El Cap in Yosemite is a challenge even for experienced mountaineers. But it becomes doubly so when you encounter a ghostly apparition while suspended in a fragile cradle thousands of feet above the ground.

This novel, by turns thrilling, touching, and frightening, satisfied both my love for fantasy and my desire to know more about the actual experience of mountain climbing.   

I'm a political junkie. And if you want Veep in book form, this is for you. Are Thom and Clay likable? Eventually, yes! Is the premise completely nuts? Totally, and I love it.

I am a huge sucker for enemies-to-lovers. And pining. And the public lens being trained on our MCs. And this one has it all. The banter, the chemistry, everything you want in a romance, plus the absurd US political system is like a cherry on top. 

Fadeout is the first book in Hansen’s Dave Brandstetter mysteries. The protagonist, an openly gay insurance investigator in 1970s California, is convinced that a man who has been reported dead is actually still alive, and he must hurry to find him. Another classic in the gay mystery canon, Fadeout is vividly noir, grittily honest, and rejects cliches and stereotypes in a way that is still shocking over fifty years later.

I loved the writing style of this book. I felt like I was sitting across from Luc, sharing coffee and listening to him tell me about his life like I would with a true, real-life friend.

And just like I would in real life, all throughout the book, I found myself shaking my head at some of Luc’s decisions and laughing with him when he found himself way over his head. So when Oliver came into his life and clearly became someone who was so obviously good for him, I was thrilled for my new friend. 

My first sexual experience after I moved to London in 1957 was with a slightly older man I met at one of the parties I got invited to after my book was published. When we got to his flat I knew enough to take my clothes off and lie down on the bed, but what was I supposed to do then? Clueless, I lay there like a stick of celery. “You’re not gay,” he kept repeating. “Yes I am,” I kept repeating, but didn’t know how to prove it.

Too many years later, in 1966, The Song of the Loon filled in the blanks of how gay men actually had sex. It’s very well-written explicit erotica, a backwoods fantasy about impossibly handsome masculine men living far from those city gays corrupted by shame and disappointment. Song is no quick potboiler. It’s a gay author’s well-realized attempt to bring to life… show more.

The descriptive writing in this book is beautiful and full of evocative metaphors and similes. Still, it’s the central relationship between the forthright Robin and the secretive, standoffish Edwin that keeps me re-reading it repeatedly.

Unlike the first few recommendations, we see Edwin’s POV, so we know straightaway why he feels the need to hide his true intentions and desires. We also get to experience his quiet, almost reluctant yearning as his and Robin’s shaky friendship turns into more. This one is a lovely, well-developed romance and generally an excellent historical fantasy with an interesting world-building and magic system.

This rare Black queer romance novel is a heartfelt exploration of friendship and second chances.

It doesn’t shy away from the complexities of maintaining relationships in the midst of grief, addressing head on one of the most difficult and underexplored aspects of loss. It’s a reminder that our past shapes us, but our present can redefine us, through the refreshing lens of Black queer characters just trying to figure out their lives.