Fans pick 100 books like The Marigold

Hopkinson’s stunning debut plunges the reader into a wildly inventive future Toronto. She seamlessly weaves together the politics of race, class, and gender, inflected with the rich culture and history of the Caribbean diaspora.

Despite the grim post-apocalyptic setting, the characters are part of a community, surviving through solidarity and mutual aid. There are no easy answers or neat resolutions to be found here—the fraught, tenuous connections between families and lovers are messy and grounded.

Sadly, many of the elements of this 1998 novel have proven prophetic, and this book is still a clarion call 25 years later.

Barker is known best as a master of body horror, and this book certainly has some grotesque images. But it’s also a gorgeous meditation on memory, identity, love, and the use and misuse of great power.

Along with a vivid travelogue of the five realms that make up Imagica, Barker explores the use of the body itself as a canvas; malleable, changeable, and as fascinating as the view from the window of your train. That said, the view is often stunning, always inventive, and immersive enough that I feel I’ve walked the streets of Yzordderrex myself. 

I normally avoid dystopian, but this story doesn’t dwell in misery like so many apocalyptic stories do.

Last Man Standing is more like Andy Weir’s book, The Martian, because it’s about one man’s survival under extreme conditions. A scientist is stranded on a space station after an attack that has killed everyone else onboard. What happened, and why? He doesn’t know, but he’ll do anything to stay alive and find a way to get back to Earth despite a thousand obstacles in his path and little knowledge of spaceflight.

This story can be intense, but the character stays positive and has a lot of heart.

It’s a dystopian YA novel where the Australian landscape is beautifully rendered in all its glory and danger. It’s also a tightly written and intense page turner, when even quiet moments are infused with a sense of menace.

It has echoes of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, although this book is unmistakably Australian - right down to speculation around where our nation’s attitude to asylum seeks may lead us. It’s not as bleak as The Road (a book I admire), but Mark reminds us how easily our veneer of society could slip away in the wake of a catastrophic, world-changing event.

I did worry for Finn’s dog as much as for Finn himself. (I’m still scarred by The Knife of Never Letting Go. This has parallels to that nail-biting novel, too.)

Do not read this series if you have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). 

Coral is on vacation when her world lights up. It starts with a fire so intense that the ash entirely blocks out the sun, not for a season, but for years. The sky is perpetually grey, and her world goes seriously cold. She must survive the elements, but the real threat comes from the desperation of those left alive and fighting for their lives. This is a brutal world. 

As a paranoid survivalist, this book had me taking notes. Some books you read and forget, others teach you something. Most authors push a moral agenda, but this book teaches real-life skills, like how it’s a good idea to burrow into snow when it’s REALLY cold, or why hanging out in caves isn’t just for Neanderthals, and my personal favourite, how to spot a cannibal. 

I discovered this book in 1985, reading and re-reading the book during high school and, eventually, buying the worn-out copy from the library before graduation.

While it may seem to be a dystopian story – it takes place after a nuclear-biological armageddon, after all – it’s an early example of hopepunk. Candy Smith-Foster repeatedly puts the good of others, including her macaw, Terry (short for Terry Dactyl), ahead of her own welfare. Not bad for a preteen facing the destruction of all she knew.

How much of an impact did this have on me? One of the reasons Kendra’s name starts as Foster-Briggs is to honor Palmer’s masterwork.

A Time to Die is a gritty dystopian book with many unexpected twists and a unique, intricate world that transported me right into it from the first chapter. I loved how genuine and transparent the main character is in her approach to every new circumstance and her newfound relationship with God.

Each chapter is fast-paced, intense, and almost always ends on a cliffhanger. It is one of the most thrilling, raw survival stories I have read, and I recommend it to anyone looking for a book that will keep them engaged and begging for more when it is over.

Written in Soviet Russia in 1972, but only published in 1989, this is the story of a bizarre experimental city populated by strangers from all over the last century. All have made a deal with mysterious mentors who are trying to find out…something, by subjecting the city’s inhabitants to apparently arbitrary torments like plagues of baboons. Our hero, Andrei, tries to take it in stride like a good Soviet boy, but finds himself increasingly doubtful as the conditions of the experiment just get weirder and weirder. The humor and situations are very Russian while the emotions will be familiar to anyone dealing with seemingly incoherent orders from above. Reading it at the height of the pandemic was certainly a trip.

While I don’t always love mainstream classics, The Giver is a classic for a reason, and, in my opinion, it rightfully deserves its place on the shelf.

I love the emotional draw of this book and the invitation to think deeper about the meaning of life and the burden it can take on us. I love books that challenge us to think about the bigger concepts of life and all they entail: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

This is a new dystopian matriarchal novel, first in a series, that I’ve just discovered. Interestingly, it’s been described as the opposite of The Handmaid’s Tale.

The story is of a female-controlled society in which men are kept imprisoned and used as breeders. Neen, a female scientist who is interviewing men for their potential as sperm donors, begins to question the status quo when some of the men she meets don’t fit her preconceptions.

I was attracted to the book because its story is comparable to my book, but the tone and world-building are completely different. I loved the plot twists and the focus on ethical dilemmas.