96 books like Silver in the Wood

I fell in love with Murderbot in the first paragraph. Every book afterward in the series just made me love it more.

The hero of the Murderbot Diaries is part robot, part humanoid, and all done-with-everyone’s-crap. Everyone seemed to think that if a construct like it gained its freedom, it would rampage around killing everyone. Instead, it just wanted to be left alone to watch some good shows, and read a book or ten. Been there.

I cracked up at the sarcasm, got pulled in by the action, and felt the compassion that drove Murderbot to jump into the mouth of a deadly creature to save a human’s life. I went through the angst of Murderbot learning how to connect with people without compromising itself, and identified all too well.

This is my favorite book of Donnelly’s, perhaps because I had the distinct pleasure of meeting her upon its release. This book was an inspiration to me as a writer. Not only is Isabelle considered “ugly,” but her spirit is so downtrodden at the beginning of the story because others don’t believe in her abilities. She must find her own agency and her own belief in her abilities to do great things and realize that real beauty shines from within. 

This book haunted me for days after I read it, and I mean that in the best possible way. The story of a henchwoman's rise to power, it's a searing indictment of superheroes that also manages to be an incredibly gripping read. Anna is both deeply sympathetic and full of highly understandable rage, and her struggle against the local "heroes" is more exciting than any superhero movie I've seen in years. I stayed awake until 3 a.m. reading it the first time, even though I had work in the morning, and I'm still itching for Walschots to write a sequel. Once you read it, you will, too.

Fairy-tale retellings are my favorite subgenre, and this book hit every right note for me. I loved the incorporation of stories, known and unknown to me, with art so beautiful there are days I pick this book up just to marvel at it.

The last one brought tears to my eyes, a feat that doesn’t happen often, superseded only by the end of the novel. I cannot recommend it enough.    

I fell in love with how absurd the books are in their brilliance and how they seem to evolve together with the reader.

When reading them as a young adult, I found them funny, creative, and quirky, yet with progressing education and experience, re-reading them reveals Pratchett’s philosophical genius with the many things that are hidden in the plots and many details. Only after reading them the third time did I notice how a simple and impressive description of string theory shaped the plot. After finishing my master's in business psychology, I recognized several behavioral patterns from my lectures and reading materials.

What still impresses me most about it is that not realizing the hidden treasures in the stories still makes it possible to follow them without feeling stupid or as though something is missing.

To me, what’s most striking about this book, a queer retelling of “Snow White,” is that in addition to the POV of the Snow White character, Lynet, there’s also narration from Mina, the Evil Queen insert. Only in this retelling Mina isn’t a superficial villain.

In fact, she’s no villain at all. I find her to be a complex heroine, and her relationship with Lynet is equally rich and complicated. I was compelled by Lynet and Mina’s struggles under the weight of feminine and royal expectations. Despite their conflicts, they are more alike than they are different, and their journey to realizing this was so satisfying.

The sapphic romance between Lynet and a surgeon provides a lovely subplot that adds to, rather than distracts from, the main storyline. One of my all-time favorite sapphic retellings.

Anna-Marie McLemore’s prose is so poetic and elegant that I sometimes reread sentences just because they have such a beautiful cadence to them.

This book is a reimagining of “Snow White and Rose-Red” with elements of Swan Lake and Latinx folklore.

Everything McLemore writes is magic, but this story weaves together everything I love about their work: magical realism, velvety descriptions, and fairy tales cracked open in new ways to shed light on racial and gender politics.

I love the complicated, loving relationship between the two sisters, and I love that the boy Blanca falls in love with has a complicated relationship with gender that is in part inspired by McLemore’s transgender and non-binary husband.

This is a collection of short stories that mixes fairy tales and myths to create six spooky, atmospheric retellings.

A few of the short stories, like “The Witch of Duva” (which borrows from “Hansel and Gretel”) deal with some dark themes, and “When Water Sang Fire,” is a deeply tragic, sapphic work inspired by “The Little Mermaid.”

My favorite of the collection is “The Soldier Prince” which combines “The Nutcracker” and “The Velveteen Rabbit” to produce a story with a fascinating take on agency, love, and self-awareness.

It’s queer in a way I don’t think I can define; I was still thinking about that story weeks after I finished it, and I would—in a heartbeat—read a whole novel about that particular nutcracker.

The life of Zora Neale Hurston, the extraordinary novelist and first female African-American anthropologist, was bigger than words. But this picture book catches the uncatchable. The words are gorgeous. And the illustrations further illuminate the portrait, including delightful hats on the endpapers (a hat-tip to Ms. Hurston’s “HATitude”).

Hurston, a prominent novelist, folklorist, and anthropologist during the Harlem Renaissance time, she finds her greatest recognition in her fictional book Their Eyes Were Watching God. She grew up in Eatonville, Florida, the first incorporated black town in America.  A graduate of Barnard College, she attended graduate classes at Columbia University and receives several honors for her ethnographic research as a pioneer writer of “folk fiction’ about the black South.

Although she gained considerable fame for a brief time, she dies in near obscurity and poverty although a resurgence of her writings influenced a new group of black women writers. I especially valued reading Dust Tracks on the Road, her poignant autobiographical memoir first published in 1942 after reading Alice Walker’s essay of her search to find Hurston’s unmarked grave.