10 books like Emperor Mollusk Versus the Sinister Brain

Okay, I know Frankenstein’s Creature is generally viewed as a Monster rather than zombie but hey, he’s built from graveyard flesh and bone. His creator is generally seen as a ‘man of science’ but he dabbled in the occult and alchemy, too, even if he abandoned those ideas to try modern alternatives. It’s an amazing book using The Creature’s plight to challenge our ideas and morals. These ideas of how we should treat people and the results remain poignant but it is the loneliness of the Creature and its battle to survive its rejection by its creator and society that holds the modern-day reader even now.

I really connected with evil genius Doctor Impossible and his whacky world of superheroes. In grade and high school, I felt like I was the one who was overlooked, which was often the good days; getting noticed generally meant I was being made fun of and bullied. But to take revenge, to show my plebeian classmates the (imagined) might that lay within me, how glorious that would be! Hahaha! Evil laugh aside, as Doctor Impossible does just that, I also enjoyed his vulnerable needs, longings, and regrets. And the lives of the heroes are not all they are cracked up to be. While not as stark (or violent) as The Boys, Grossman also exposes the toll superhero biology can take on the mind and body. A fun and poignant read.

Given my belief that Thanos had a point (what science-math-oriented person can’t tremble at the algorithm of over-population?), it’s no surprise I enjoyed an anthology of different takes on mad scientists and what drives them. I got my fix of humorously boastful ego-maniacs, such as Professor Incognito’s itemized “apology” to his girlfriend (with attempted sincerity because of their couple’s therapist). And the variety of these tales exposed me to a bevy of villainy, from a psychologist who uses the “soft” sciences to unleash the insanity within stable scientists because “everyone deserves the opportunity to go mad” to a side-hustling villainy coach whose budget forces her to choose between new tech plating or weapons-grade plutonium. What’s a would-be world conqueror to do? Relatable.

I know plenty of people have seen film adaptations of this story, but in Stevenson’s novel, the drug takes on a larger, more sinister role. In the story, Dr. Jekyll – a respected and well-meaning scientist – creates a drug that can alter his personality to allow his baser, more evil elements to come to the surface. It essentially summons his “alter-ego” Mr. Hyde. As the good doctor becomes more and more dependent on the drug, his evil counterpart becomes more and more the prominent personality. At its surface, the novel is a classic exploration of good vs. evil, but a careful reading also illuminates the real dangers of substance abuse and what that can do to a personality.

This is a fascinating exploration of culture and personality, both human and alien. The breadth and variation in human culture is cleverly placed in context by the presence of alien cultures and, as we get to know them, we see not only how they differ from ours, but we get to question our own values and societal norms. The story is set on a spaceship which is used to build hyperspace tunnels. They agree to build a tunnel to open a cargo route to a far-off planet in an active war zone. The dangers of the journey, and of the task when they arrive, reveal the true personalities of the crew, and none of them come out of it unchanged.

In a future US where NASA and the space program is all but defunct, former astronaut Sally Jensen is brought out of an involuntary retirement to lead a new, barely-qualified team on a most intriguing—and dangerous—mission to an asteroid that's slowing down as it approaches Earth. Gripping and addictive, I found myself not able to put this book down once I started it. This definitely falls into the sci-fi horror camp, a blend which—fortunately—this story handles really well. If you’re looking for a hard science fiction novel with a hefty helping of horror mixed throughout, you cannot go wrong with this gem!

A revolutionary, especially for the time period, development of cosmic horror elucidated to the reader in a then rarely used first-person perspective. The utter insignificance of mankind, in relation to the grand time span of the cosmos. As well as the almost perfunctory inclusion of a nubile human race in relation to a much vaster multiverse, definitely set a precedence for all expansions of the borders of consciousness to come. Way ahead of his time, the mythos of HP Lovecraft were vastly underappreciated in their day, but have become the inspiration for a whole slew of successful modern authors.  

Good space opera is built on time-honored tropes, and Pratt hits them all on the head. Space princess? Check. Ragtag crew? Check. Strange, otherworldly aliens and a dash of romance? Double check. The Wrong Stars is space opera at its finest, with a classic adventure between humans and aliens, good versus evil, and technological innovation that makes you stop and consider current trends. 

The romance line is sapphic, age gap, flirtatious and commanding. Callie is our commanding captain, cool and in charge. Elena has been in cryosleep on a generational ship that was attacked by violent aliens and has some trauma to work out. Who better to help than Callie? And of course the whole crew needs to go investigate these new aliens. The fate of the galaxy is at stake!

In Claiming T-Mo, Australian-African writer Eugen Bacon re-invents and shatters all the familiar codes of the magical sci-fi genre. A novel about women, magic, fate, and freedom, Claiming T-Mo is also a deep reflection on motherhood, love, masculinity, and identities. As the different female narrators share their views and feelings about T-Mo, the elusive central character, more questions about filiation and heritage unroll, making the reader a part of the quest. I love Eugen Bacon because she is an incredibly versatile talent, who turns everything she writes about into pure gold. 

I’m often attracted to characters who seem to be haunted – whether by places, people, or their own past. Stanislaw Lem ups the ante a good deal by having his cast of characters apparently haunted by the entire ocean of the planet they’ve landed on. But that isn’t why I find Solaris so moving and intriguing. Just as we’re starting to orientate ourselves to how the planet can bend reality for the astronauts who are based there, Lem throws an entirely unexpected question into the mix – what if the ‘monsters’ don’t realise they’re ‘monsters’, what if they’re as bewildered by the situation as the ‘victims’? That blindsided me (which is another thing I like stories to do) and, for me, it adds a special layer of poignancy to the book.