Fans pick 100 books like Fire On The Mountain

It’s a fascinating book. The story takes place in 2024, and some themes seem prophetic: water shortages, soaring food prices, the resulting social chaos, and Mars exploration. There is also a president who promises to “make America great again” (the book was written in 1993). 

I liked the story, though it left a rather heavy impression on me. I couldn't put it down despite how grim it was. I was especially fascinated by its invented religion, though I’m more inclined to view it as a philosophy. It was refreshing, stimulating, and thought-provoking.

Through her dystopian vision, Octavia Butler explores the issues of inequality, poverty, slavery, politics, capitalism, religion, and human psychology. Her book is a great analysis of what human beings are capable of in crisis.

After her most famous work of speculative fiction, The Handmaid’s Tale, was adapted for a popular television series in 2017, Atwood wrote a sequel of sorts and a book that, to me, is more interesting and engaging than the remarkable story it builds on.

It takes the form of a truth-and-reconciliation investigation of the theocratic coup that turned the U.S. into the Republic of Gilead. It turns the epilogue to The Handmaid’s Tale—often criticized as a Wizard of Oz-like cop-out at the end of an otherwise unflinching novel—into the launching point for a text that digs in much deeper, with profound wisdom and a clear-eyed species of hope.

This masterpiece from one of the giants of mind-blowing SF is best known as a canonical example of alternate history: set in a world where the Axis powers won World War II, and the former U.S.A. is divided between occupying forces of Imperial Japan on the West Coast and Nazi Germany. As such, the conflict in the book is really about the underground resistance forces’ efforts against the occupiers.

Lots of writers have played with similar premises, but I love Dick’s the most because of its narrative daring, from using the I Ching as a device to generate plot to the Borgesian engine of the imaginary novel within the novel on which the story’s ultimate revelations turn.

One of the best and most underappreciated works of contemporary speculative fiction by one of its finest living stylists, this book dares to riff on The Diary of Anne Frank and manages to pull it off with a first-person narration by a 12-year-old girl in New York City recounting her everyday life as the nation is coming apart in civil conflict and unrest.

The rapidly maturing innocence of the point of view dials up the intensity of the story—making it feel more real—while at the same time giving it a uniquely accessible charisma powered by emotional connection more than the cyberpunk eyeball kicks that charged Womack’s other amazing novels.

Walker’s Jubilee extends the slave narrative, a popular weapon used by abolitionists to fight slavery. Instead of ending when the main character escapes their cruel master, Walker tells the story of a woman’s journey from emancipation to reconstruction and beyond.

I included this book not only because of a great beginning, but also because I wanted to give an example of how important story is to the success of a book, and in some cases more important than the language.

Besides, how can you not read on after a first chapter with the title, “Death is a mystery that only the squinch owl knows”? 

The American Civil War is everywhere, yet nowhere in William Faulkner’s fiction. This book explores the history of Yoknapatawpha County and the fiction of William Faulkner’s Civil War. It is a fascinating exploration of historical memory, race-making, narrative construction, and the South during and after Sherman.

Like The Dawn Watch, I especially loved it because it was neither a history book nor a work of literary analysis. If you have read Faulkner, this is an essential book that helps you understand how all of this is really about the Civil War, even though you’ll find very little gunfire in those pages. The pain is nowhere because it is everywhere. 

I really love this book because I have been known to go on a “haunted” history tour now and again and I love a good ghost story. However, I realize that sometimes the true stories from our past are more scary than the fantastic ones.

This book particularly hit home because it covers quite a few ghost stories from New Orleans that I am very familiar with. However, those “spooky” ghost stories become truly frightening when contextualized by Miles. 

I only recently discovered the work of Anna J. Cooper, but I find myself reading and thinking about and with her a lot. She’s not an obvious philosophical love for me in that she never writes about LGBTQIA life and does write about men and women from a relatively conservative, Christian, cis, and straight point of view. However, Cooper gives voice to and insight into the struggles of Black women, and her work helps me, as someone who is both racialized as white and an immigrant to the US, perceive and feel important dimensions of the reality in which I now live.

Thus, in her writings about the things she knows about, I find a friend and a colleague as I’m trying to think about intersectional issues that go beyond the life I know first-personally.

I am, to put it lightly, obsessed with the way Octavia Butler revolutionizes the timescape and invites us to speculate about worlds that could be. In this and so many of her books, her vision of Afrofuturism is one that reminds us that our ancestral pasts and our imagined futures are always connected. 

I thought a lot about the future when I wrote my book, and I share Butler’s conviction that there is collective healing and liberation in revisiting and reimagining the past.

I also love that my neighborhood library in Pasadena is the one Octavia Butler used to frequent!

Ever since I was a little kid in Springfield, Illinois (Lincoln’s hometown), I found racism hard to understand. Where did it come from? Why is it so rooted in our society?

This book taught me about black dreams, freedom, and rights ravaged by widespread violence and intimidation. I was particularly impressed by General Lewis Merrill, assigned by Grant to prosecute KKK excesses in the northern counties of South Carolina; he was a man who, like me, could not believe the cruel outrages he was told… until he saw them for himself.