60 books like The Circle

Crichton is, without question, my favorite author, and what I love most about his books is the singular word that defines them all: immersive. As one of the later Crichton books I read, I actually saw the movie adaptation of this book first, and I cannot stress enough how much better the book is.

The details involved build both a compelling representation of 14th century France, complete with indecipherable language, and a believable mechanism for that time travel based on quantum mechanics, more than a decade before the boom of multiverse fiction.

This is my favorite portal fantasy series. It truly defined portal fantasy for me, on top of all of the other books/series that I’ve already mentioned. 

Meghan is your average teen…until she discovers a portal to a parallel world, the world of the Fey. This series has Meghan, and creatures from the fey realm, traveling back and forth as Meghan seeks to discover her true identity and her role in both worlds. 

I loved how this series was fantasy but intertwined traditional fairytale creatures, storylines, and elements with Kagawa’s own twist on the Fey, along with Shakespearean creatures and even Shakespearean humor. 

The Iron Fey is always my foremost recommendation for anyone who enjoys a great portal fantasy series, with one foot grounded on Earth, in reality, and the other in the fantastical.

This book is technically more ghost/time travel than strictly fantasy, but it was the book that opened my eyes to the idea of “portal fantasy.” It’s the story of a teenage girl in an old mansion who is able, with her horse, Candlelight, to travel through a portal and meet the girl who lived in the mansion many years before her. It was mysterious, slightly spooky, and used the idea of parallel worlds in such a unique way. I read hundreds of books as a teen, but this one really stuck with me. 

This was probably the next book that confirmed the concept of portal fantasy for me. It’s an allegorical story of a young woman’s fight against evil and evil forces, but starts out on Earth before moving to a parallel fantastical realm. I remember reading this as a teen and being fascinated by the idea of moving back and forth between worlds. At this time, I wasn’t even aware of the term “portal fantasy” or the subgenre, but Arena developed my interest in it. 

In this series intro, Marc Cameron introduces us to Special Agent Jericho Quinn, an Air Force veteran, champion boxer, and trained assassin.

When three Middle Eastern terrorists are injected with a biological weapon and unleashed on American soil, Quinn is chosen for a new global task force. He works directly for the Director of National Intelligence and the U.S. President himself.

Quinn's methods, as he navigates the treacherous world of international espionage and terrorism, are simple and brutal. His Air Force OSI background proves to be an integral part of the way he thinks and operates. National Security is a page-turner and even better on audio. Great read!

This was one of the first fiction books I read that set before me a world that is ordinary interrupted, and affected by another world that is supernatural.

In this book, when the main character goes to sleep, he wakes up in another world populated by mysterious beings and people.

Perhaps most interesting about this set up, is that events in this “dream world” affect events in the waking one.

While the main character only retains a passive ability (entering this other world and healing) the whole traveling between both spaces, his interactions with both divine and malevolent beings, and his race to stop his world from destruction all pulled me into the story in such a way that I could not put down.

I have taught the history of terrorism for over twenty years, and I think this is the single best introduction to terrorism available. When people ask me for one book to read on the subject, this is my obvious choice.

Hoffman is one of the most respected scholars of terrorism. In this book he includes a brief survey of the history of terrorism as a springboard to examining how it manifests in the world today. The writing is accessible, and the takeaways are clear.

This book turned the field of Terrorism Studies on its head. Historical sociologist Lisa Stampnitzky demonstrates that the legion of terrorism experts who rose to prominence in North America, Western Europe, and Israel in the 1970s were not neutral analysts of political violence. Rather, through their intellectual work, much of it funded with government grants, terrorism scholars helped construct the contemporary meaning of terrorism as a threat to society fundamentally different from other forms of violence, crime, and political activity. This book made it clear that we can’t understand the history of “terrorism” without analyzing the history of the term itself, and how the use of this term in law, academia, politics, international relations, and popular culture has shaped political power and violent conflicts between states and insurgents.

I return over and over to Zulaika and Douglass’ book as the most important and valuable text in the field that has come to be called critical terrorism studies. They ask a simple question: How can terrorism, something that kills relatively so few Americans–less in a typical year than are killed by lightning or choke to death on dinner–come to be seen as a fundamental threat to the very foundation of our life?

They weave an answer out of history, media studies, and sociology that is jargon-free enough to be accessible to an educated reader but sophisticated enough to get you rethinking everything you thought you knew about terrorism. That’s what it did for me.

If ever there was a book that cast a spell over me, it was Incendiary. The novel is written as a letter to Osama Bin Laden; the letter writer is a woman whose husband and son were killed in a terrorist attack. How male author Chris Cleave manages to speak in the voice of a heartbreakingly traumatized, possibly drunk woman is a true act of ventriloquism. I could imagine the whole thing performed on a black box stage as a monologue and it would be riveting. The heroine's rage is understandable throughout the course of the story. What is surprising is her grace, her sense of humor, even her tenderness toward the man who destroyed her family. At one point she urges him to "stop making boy-shaped holes in the world."