100 books like Ender's Game

There is a reason the TV series performed as well as it did. Even though this book series hasn’t been and may never be finished, please let me tell you why I think you should read it anyway.

The story that captivated the world and put epic fantasy back on the map is even better in bookish form. Yes, the world-building of Westeros is iconic, but the use of each character’s perspective left me awestruck. Throughout the story and across the different perspectives, the “truths” of the world are revealed in their own intricately conflicting ways—a subtle reminder that history is often written by the hand of the victor.

For those who have watched the show and believe they’ve seen all that GRRM has to offer, I encourage you to take a stab (with the pointy end) at the book series; there are even more layers to the political intrigue… show more.

Joe Abercrombie didn’t earn the moniker Lord Grimdark for nothing. This story explores the darker depths of the human experience and is not for the faint of heart, but the characterization is something completely other.

Though this first book almost serves as more of a prologue for the trilogy, the characters are more than enough to carry this story on their own. Each is a therapist’s headache (and payday) because the Union is a tough place to live, as Logen Ninefingers will continue to remind the reader.

Though I read this book years ago, it still sticks with me as an unforgettable experience because of how immersive the cast was. 

This has been one of my favorite books since I was a kid. I love it for two main reasons: The first is that I’m a fiend for exploring the real limits of ability (which the Bene Gesserit and Fremen do). The second is that as fantastical as the world is, it’s grounded in real science. 

There are no giant sandworts on my own planet, but I completely believe why and how they’d exist on Arrakis. Herbert even includes an appendix to explain how it works, called “The Ecology of Dune.” 

Fiction requires a leap of faith, but the real-science grounding in Dune makes that leap a whole lot easier because I believe where it’s coming from.

Science fiction is supposed to be mind-expanding, but its bestsellers have for far too long been in the hands of Western authors.

This book and its accompanying series changed that through interwoven themes that connect an interplanetary future with today’s cultural, climate, and political divides, and the world is a better place for it. 

This book blew me away! This time, it wasn’t about science in a strict sense but rather the “scientific mindset” the book was written with. Every aspect of a real zombie war is honestly considered—all the ramifications of an event so enormous—versus the simplistic way filmmakers portray it.

How do you fight millions of things that never back down or die? They’d spread out, for instance, so you’d be finding zombies for decades later, maybe in small pieces. They don’t need to breathe, so you could “lose” them underwater until they grab you one day. And what about military strategy? How hard would it be to fight an army of soldiers who can’t panic, never give up, and don’t care enough to retreat? 

From its first publication, this was my favorite book—a post-apocalyptic look at a world where women have lost their rights and are siloed into specific gender roles. I held my breath when the protagonist, Offred, finds ways to rebel, despite the risk of any visible state protest.

I love the complexity of the plot, where women sometimes help each other and other times join the persecution of women for self-survival. And I couldn’t read fast enough to see if Offred, riddled with fear yet finding her core of strength, finds a way out.

It’s a scary read, as it foretells of a totalitarian world, but I felt compassion for all the players as victims of this terrible world. And I knew from the start that Offred was a compelling protagonist whose deep compassion and strength would lead the way.

If you want a break from fantasy and sci-fi, and you love a book with morally grey characters, then this is it.

Beartown is a town that survives on hockey. The kids play it, the grown-ups work in anything related, and just like in sports, both sides consider themselves the good side in every action they take.

We follow the manager of the hockey club as he must make impossible decisions, then the players, each making their own mistakes. We see villains grow from a place that we can understand, and we see good people making bad calls because no one can be perfect all the time.

And most importantly, we see how sometimes, no choice is the right choice. Especially for the victim.

I love the thought that went into building the world of the Capital and the districts: not just the dystopian aesthetic and the could-easily-be-overdone teen angst it creates, but instead the whole idea of class rebellion and the inevitability of comeuppance. Power corrupts, no matter the person who holds that power…and those without power will never be suppressed for long. 

You have to stick with the whole series to see the full cycle, but this book doesn’t dumb down the “karmic cycle of revenge” like some other YA books do. There are two sides to everything, and while this book has plenty of evil and plenty of good, there are also those oh-so-crucial-to-believability characters who walk the gray areas in between.

Ursula Le Guin’s book uses gender identity to address reader estrangement. I love that Le Guin ruthlessly runssacks all our preconceptions, interrogates the assumptions we mistake for laws, and deconstructs conventional notions of what makes a viable society.

The locale is the planet of Winter, where it is always either cold or colder. There is sex but no gender, and individuals can father a child or give birth to one. This circumstance becomes endlessly confusing to Genly Ai, the male visitor from planet Earth, who doesn’t know how to respond to his guide and benefactor Estraven or even what pronoun to use.

It isn’t that he gets the signals wrong, it’s that there are no signals and he doesn’t know how to navigate without them—learning how to respond to people as individuals instead of gendered types.  

What I liked most about this book of the Discworld series, in particular, is the characters. They are very well written and the dialogue of banter between them is fantastic. The world, too, is something I will always remember, how it sucks you in and is so vivid.

But the best part of this book is Ricewind's ability to stumble into trouble and always come out on top.