Fans pick 99 books like The Dreaming Jewels

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!

While not perhaps a “romance” novel in the established-formula sense, this book is achingly romantic. This epic story truly focuses on the gradual development of the two protagonists’ relationship and how time travel both created and challenged their love. This book ignited my passion for magic-realism romantic novels and remains one of my top books of all time.

I adore the contrast of romantic love between two seemingly destined souls and the brutality of some events caused by Henry’s uncontrolled time travel. There’s also the tricky angle of the age gap (only sometimes, depending on where Henry and Clare are in their lives, but it is occasionally extreme), which the author doesn’t shy away from. And I confess this is probably the book that made me sob the most!

The earliest publication date of this collection goes all the way back to 1935. A strange circus comes to town, with the performers consisting of creatures who talk less about circusy things than they do about philosophy and some strangely specific moralizing. Those thought-provoking aspects are what stick in my mind now. What first drew me to the story was the mystery of the circus itself, and the wonderfully creative creatures inside of it. 

There’s something deliciously attractive about this book.

The language Bradbury uses draws me in every time I visit it, and it keeps me hooked. This was another book I found as a kid, and it left its hooks in me from when I was young.

Is it morbid? There are definitely morbid parts to it. And it deals with life-and-death situations, but it’s just so good. I never wanted it to end.

Strange World is a collection of short stories (and many are very short). They expand on the title, the stories being recollections, reports, and (I’m fairly sure) completely made-up weirdness from around the country and world. Everything from strange coincidences to the absurdly fantastic, are all presented as matter-of-fact. This is perfectly in line with the publication date of 1964. Then, America was fully invested in the UFO craze, tinged with metaphysics and the occult. The stores are a time capsule of this cultural view and – whether or not you believe the stories are true – are a fun read.

What? Something inhuman is stalking through the New York Museum of Natural History? Yes, please! This book started a phenomenal run for Preston and Child, and they continue to hatch more gems to this day. You really can’t go wrong with anything these guys write, whether as a pair or individually.

Its gripping narrative made me quickly rip through it and want much more. Fortunately, there’s a treasure trove of subsequent novels from these guys. This is just the kind of story I love—an intellectual mystery mixed with some good old archaeology/anthropology and a pinch of supernatural monster horror. It has strong characters, it’s fast-paced, and often spooky. And isn’t there something about museums that makes the creative mind wander?

I loved that about the novel’s main setting. The movie was not as good, so I recommend just reading the book.

King is the great American mythmaker.

When I first read this book during my miserable high school years, I learned that a writer can take the trauma of adolescence and high school and turn it into mythology. Bullies, Bible-thumpers, and that rare compassionate soul—in this novel, they become cosmic American forces as resonant as Jung’s archetypes.

Although this book has been around for a very long time, I only encountered it earlier this year.

It is a scientific fiction novel based on a supposed treatment given to a mentally handicapped young man (Charlie) that gave him great intelligence. This treatment had been tried earlier on mice (one being Algernon), enabling them to do cognitive tasks impossible for ordinary mice. The basis for much of the book was that the treatment was not permanent, and first, Algernon and then Charlie deteriorated back to where they were cognitively before the treatment.

The book beautifully describes what it was like (in Charlie’s own words) to be cognitively disabled before the treatment and how he was treated by people; then, when the treatment was effective, and finally, as he was deteriorating, which he recognized was happening. Although fictional, the descriptions of the cognitive changes in Charlie are compelling.

It was hard to settle on a single book by Shua, who is widely considered the “Queen of South American Microfiction,” because her work is just so good. Without a Net is one of her two microfiction collections translated into English. This one deals with characters from circuses and carnivals and is an astonishing collection of microfiction. Each carefully chosen word resonates and illustrates the power of the form. This is a book I would want to have with me if I could only take one book with me on a weeks-long trip.

Charlie is homeless and lives in an abandoned carnival, just one of the places full of wonder and mystery in this novel. He is sometimes fed by a mature-aged gay couple and has an unrequited love. But he dies and we continue reading his story in a surreal version of the world he inhabited while alive. Yes, Charlie is a ghost. The carnival he still lives in has a life of its own, and he needs to protect the living who showed him kindness. A truly beautiful tale.