Fans pick 36 books like Ring Shout

Speaking of authors who combine stylistic daring with profound emotion, I give you George Saunders. Saunders’s strange and funny stories prompted me to try my hand at writing fiction, and his first novel is one of my favorite books.

Inspired by the true story of Abraham Lincoln sneaking, on multiple occasions, into a Washington D.C. crypt to cradle the corpse of his young son, Willie, this book also breathes life into a sizeable cast of ghosts squatting in the “Bardo”—a liminal space between life and death. As the American Civil War rages, President Lincoln and the unwilling ghosts must all come to terms with the inevitability of death. This book is a great American novel, equally hilarious and heart-breaking.

There’s something about an ensemble book that I love. Seeing personalities clash as insults fly and banter is exchanged really gets me going. I usually don’t like overtly funny books or jokes at the expense of drama, but Nicholas Eames has somehow hit the sweet spot for me with Kings of the Wyld.

These characters are more than just there to crack one-liners, of course. They’ve got their fair share of baggage to unpack, and sometimes it takes a friend or a brother to lend a listening ear for the healing to start happening.

For various reasons, I had very few people that I could consider to be true friends when I read this book, and seeing these burly, fearsome warriors start to grow on each other was a balm on my soul.

This is probably the strangest retelling on this list (rivaling Alexis Hall’s wonderful The Affair of the Mysterious Letter) and—perhaps because of that?—the one that follows the original stories most closely.

Indeed, the mysteries explored by Crow are beat-by-beat versions of Holmes’s, except where they deviate to puncture racism, xenophobia, and sexism or to reflect the dictates of the fascinating paranormal world Addison created.

The wary developing friendship between Watson and Crow, the bizarre half-glimpsed world they live in, and the urgency of the prose make it hugely readable.

This book is an epic fantasy novel masquerading as science fiction. Viv (think female Elon Musk) is on the cusp of changing the world with her tech company when she’s kidnapped by an Empress sitting at the end of Time who rules most of the universe and is bent on conquering or destroying the rest. Forced to team up with a space pirate queen, warrior monk, newb pilot, and a machine virus (yes, really--and it's awesome) that used to serve the Empress, Viv traverses the universe to do what no one has ever attempted: rebel. It’s a ragtag Guardians of the Galaxy with loads more twists and turns that will have you reaching for your space sick bag trying to figure out if Viv and team will make it to the end alive.

The Gentleman Bastards are a fun, exciting group with a connection that feels genuine throughout the story and has, by far, some of the best and most hilarious dialogue I've ever read in a book. I've also learned quite a bit about fantasy storytelling from this story, in that you can craft a compelling fantasy story without huge, world-changing stacks by making the characters emotionally motivated in their goal.

The mystery was also a pleasant surprise, as it incorporated clever clues and plot points that came together nicely for a satisfying conclusion. Actions and choices actually weighed in on the events.

The only reason I don’t list Love in the Ruins as my favorite novel is because the shadow of this book looms large over every speculative novel I read.

Both books are extraordinarily funny, but Love in the Ruins has become more of a comfy read, while I still find Gravity’s Rainbow complex and challenging. It’s a cross between slapstick and mind f*ck. I would issue a trigger alert for readers who find occasional perverse sex and violence uncomfortable, but I personally believe reading uncomfortable books can make us grow into better readers and better writers.

I am a historian by day. But I have always believed that artists—whether writers, painters, or musicians—capture the human experience of history and, moreover, convey it in an enduring form for future generations far more effectively than historians. 

Historians have to present a single line of analysis or argument, which inevitably and properly makes events of a particular historical period meaningful to the particular moment in time when they are writing. A true artist can transcend both of those times. In my view, Rushdie’s book achieves that for the period, or generation, after Indian independence in 1947.

I have lived in India and written a lot about Indian history myself, including a book about Bombay, where Rushdie was partly raised. So, I have enjoyed and admired many of his earlier books, but this one remains his great achievement as a work of historical art.

When I first started reading this book, I thought it would be like every other fantasy novel featuring an orphan who goes to an elite school for magic. How wrong I was! Unlike the other books on this list which are more or less set in our world (but with magic!) The Poppy War is actually a secondary world fantasy.

What warrants its place on the list (besides being very good) is the fact that the plot points mirror the events of World War II, specifically the fighting between Japan and China.

This book is not for the faint of heart—there were some sections I found really tough to get through, especially knowing they were based on real-life events. But by then I was hooked, eager to see war orphan Rin realize not only her magic powers but her leadership capabilities.

This is one of the best examples of the… show more.

I like history and dragons, so I was immediately grabbed by a book offering an alternative history with dragons! The story is set during the Napoleonic Wars. Dragons are a major part of the war effort. A dragon chooses his or her captain, and the larger dragons are like warplanes or warships in the air, carrying the captain and a crew, including a medic.

The main human character, naval captain Will Laurence, is picked by a newly hatched dragon, which takes him into Britain’s Aerial Corps. I enjoyed reading how Laurence comes to love Temeraire, and that the dragon is a strong character in his own right. 

Gary Barwin had to make this list. He’s a Prospero of historical weirdness. I was torn between this book and his more recent novel Nothing the Same, Everything Haunted: The Ballad of Motl the Cowboy, which follows its titular character on a harrowing journey across Nazi-infested Europe to retrieve his shot-off-by-a-Dadaist testicles from a Swiss glacier. But Yiddish for Pirates wins the toss because it’s narrated by a parrot.

Aharon, a Yiddish-idiom-spouting 500-year-old ship’s parrot, traces the life of his Captain, Moishe, from a shtetl near Vilnius through Torquemada’s Inquisition and Columbus’ brutal conquest of the Caribbean to an eventual erratic career in piracy, with a couple of quests along the way. What makes Barwin’s work sing is the tragic humanity within the swirl of its jaw-dropping narrative ridiculousness.