100 books like The Devourers

Grendel is the original monster from English literature who killed many warriors and did battle with Beowulf. 

This poignant book tells the story from his point of view. It’s never completely clear what Grendel is, only that he seems to exist somewhere between humans and beasts. He is frustrated by how emotionally drawn he is to the singing he hears in the humans’ mead hall but is equally frustrated by the stupidity of the animals he encounters. 

He knows from first-hand experience how cruel men can be but because he is so alone in the world, he can’t stop himself from seeking them out. Reading this book is a hard look at loneliness, a long walk at the side of a creature whose very existence is painful.  

This Hugo Award-winning novel has one of the most original stories I’ve read that revolves around a remarkable mother, Essun.

While Essun pretends to be ordinary, she is an orogene, a race of humans with the ability to significantly alter her environment. As a result, the orogenes are wretched exiles, feared by society and trapped in a governing system that seeks to control them.

I was immediately taken with Essun’s emotional journey as the story opens with the loss of her child. She wants to live a quiet life with her family but is pursued by officials who cannot allow her to go free.

The story really tapped into the most primal aspects of motherhood. Ultimately, it’s motherhood that strengthens Essun’s power as she unleashes it with devastating effectiveness. 

The story of two mystical creatures stuck in 1899 New York who have to make their own way in the world.  Despite their different natures, they become unlikely friends and have to work together to survive. 

While I enjoyed the perspective of both supernatural beings in this book, I found the golem especially engaging. Through her eyes, the reader gets an amazingly detailed view of turn-of-the-century New York as well as the intricacies of human behavior. 

The jinni faces different challenges—he’s lost a chunk of his memory—but he also has to adapt to life among people. Wrapped in a rich tapestry of historical details, the story walks us through their processes of acclimating to human society and facing the dangers of their pasts.

A unicorn believes she’s the last of her kind and undertakes a quest to find where the others have gone. This might be my favorite book!

It plays with the fantasy genre in a way that few books can. It seamlessly mixes the whimsical with the mundane and it gives us memorable characters who are unique twists on old tropes.

What I love most about this book is seeing life through the eyes of the unicorn protagonist. She’s a timeless creature—unaging, unchanging—who finds navigating a mortal world to be puzzling, inconvenient, and, at times, terrifying.

Can you imagine being immortal and suddenly being forced to confront your own impossible mortality? Read this book and you will.

Shapeshifting lizard people. Oh. You want me to say something else?

How about... a world like no other, peopled by all manner of beings (but no humans, which is honestly a delight). The setting is so fantastic, but also so meticulously designed—every settlement and civilization feels organic, fully realized, and unlike anything else. But what about the story—?

Moon doesn't know where he's from, but he knows he's the only shapeshifter he's ever met, and the only person with wings...and worse, he thinks he's part of the terrible Fell, a species that seems to be invasive and hostile and looks a lot like him.

Then he meets another Raksura, and learns how wrong he's been about everything, including himself. 

I love a good re-imagined fairytale, and Tidbeck delivers...except it's more like she took all the fairy tales, smashed them, and reassembled them in a mosaic that's both familiar and alien at the same time.

Dora and Thistle are two among many children trapped in the Garden, servants to the fairy-like overlords who, when those children grow up, will eat them. Dora and Thistle escape, but so does one of the wicked overlords....

The prose is gorgeous, and the story is all the things fairytales should be: magical, terrifying, fantastic, with journeys and helpers and—well. I won't tell you if the ending is happy or not. Read to the end and find out. 

I am a sucker for an unusual world-build, but I also love a good morally grey hero.

Harmon delivers both. Most of civilization exists underground with a frozen wasteland above, with populations gathered into politically discrete city-states.

The magic is half chemistry, half alchemy, and unique. Our protagonist, Ig, is an elemental bound to the service of one of those city rulers, forced by that binding to kill (or whatever else he's told). He wants to be free. And that's about where you can stop imagining you know how this story will go.

The tale is dark, violent, intricate, and grimly delightful, but there's a bright sliver of hope: just enough, anyway, to show you how dark the shadows are. 

The myth of Medusa as told by her and her two Gorgon sisters. I’ve read many versions of Medusa’s story but I particularly like this one.

She’s typically treated just as an obstacle for the hero Perseus but in this book, she’s a given a voice—as an assault survivor, as the unjust victim of a god’s anger, as the baby sister of two immortal “monsters.”

The Gorgons completely rearrange their lives to accommodate the needs of their mortal sister who they love more than anything in the world. And Medusa, though she’s called a monster, makes the conscious decision to live in solitude rather than endanger others with her deadly gaze.

The definition of “monster” gets so blurry it becomes meaningless after reading this book.

As a child, I loved—and still love—reading the stories of Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie, and the Hardy Boys.

But my favorite was Feluda, a series of mystery stories or novellas created by ace filmmaker Satyajit Ray.

Ray’s Feluda stories revolve around a fictional detective called Feluda, who travels across India’s vibrant landscapes, from the caves of Ajanta Ellora in the west, to Jaipur in the north, to Chennai in the south, to many more, and outside India too.

Ray’s detective stories are well rooted in Indian culture, very clean, and virtually without any “Adult” content, and only a bit of violence but make for interesting and gripping reading despite it. 

Written originally in Bengali language, it is translated very well. It is eminently suitable for readers of all age groups.  

Days and Nights in Calcutta is a fascinating dual view of the same time and place by a husband and wife, both highly esteemed writers. The couple has returned to her family home in the famously complex and crowded Indian city and this is the account-in-two-voices of their year there. His feels full of wonder and surprise; it has a sunlit quality. Hers feels full of intensity and concern; it is tightly wrought. The book shows me not just India, a place I love to see and feel, but the importance of everyone’s story and view.