100 books like The Saint of Bright Doors

This book is both a fascinating vision of a tumultuous world and a deep dive into the mind of a troubled and compelling protagonist.

The character work in this book is incredibly impressive, with the long arc of the protagonist’s development drawn in convincing and gripping detail that left me feeling like I had known this person for years through all their triumphs, tragedies, and mistakes, which is to say nothing of its creative and plausible magic, its socio-political commentary, and its meditation on family and grief. Rightfully recognized as a modern classic, it is a book all fans of fantasy should read.

This book sank its hooks into me and refused to let go. When this happens with a book, it’s often because I empathize deeply with the characters and care about their journey. Other times because the writing on a sentence-by-sentence level is beautiful and compulsive. This achieves both.

Simon Jimenez might be the best prose stylist working in the genre right now, and he uses that skill to great effect in crafting a beautiful, slightly surreal world. He also has a keen eye for character and the power to tug on my heartstrings like no one else. I felt hollowed out when I finished this book–in a good way!

In recent years, nothing has gripped with me a child-like sense of excitement and wonder like The West Passage. I read fantasy as much for the experience of wonder as anything else.

As a child, I daydreamed constantly about fantastical worlds and strange planets, and I want fantasy to transport me back to that imaginative mindset. But that isn’t all it has to offer. Every page is packed with strangeness and mystery but also rich with its characters' emotional lives and psychological foibles. I was delighted and intrigued from page one.

While Vonvalt–the titular Justice–sits front-and-center on the cover of this novel, I found myself more drawn in by the story's narrator, his apprentice Helena.

At first, she mostly seems like a Watson-type, a character primarily there to be the audience’s window into the world of her far more interesting mentor. But as the story went on, I was drawn in by Helena’s fascinating characterization–which grows more interesting as the trilogy continues–and by how she navigates the increasingly horrific corners of the world that her story reveals.

For my bookworm girlies who long for a historical adventure. This was one of the first historical fantasy/romance books I ever read and I loved it. I remember really loving the main character because not only was she bookish and unintentionally funny, she was smart, awkward, and relatable. The story gives the reader a chance to dive into a culture you may not be completely familiar with and that accounts for half the intrigue right there! I love the lore, the supernatural elements, the history, the action. It’s a story that ticks all the boxes for fun reads and I’d encourage anyone who enjoys those things to give it a shot.  

I read this before I read the preceding trilogy: Phèdre’s Trilogy, and was well drawn in without the background knowledge that may have come from reading the two series in order. I later did read Phèdre’s Trilogy and enjoyed it, but it was Imriel’s Trilogy that really captured me. I love that while most Fantasy series will focus on aggressive politics and war, these series are more about the arts and diplomacy and humans being very human in all their facets. Imriel was a captivating character who I was eager to follow along with as I discovered the world he lived in.

My editor wrote to me a few years ago (mostly all-caps and !!!s) about a book called The Goblin Emperor, and had I read it, and didn’t she think I’d adore it? She was so convincing that I ordered a copy from my favorite indie bookstore right away and read it in a sitting. I almost cried when I realized Addison had written only one other book at that point—until a friend told me she was also the author Sarah Monette. I spent the next month reading everything in her oeuvre. But none I adored with my whole body being like I did The Goblin Emperor: its deep kindness, its gentleness, its world-building and warmth, its high stakes and heightened language, its arc of grace and growth. 

This is one of the very few books that made me yelp out loud in surprise when the twist happened, and I will forever recommend it because of how unique it was. The feel is reflective of The Road with the main part of the story showing a pained journey through a dangerous landscape. It also feels post-apocalyptic as these survivors struggle to cross the abandoned world that’s been overtaken by nature. The author wrote in a unique language that makes Idyll feel otherworldly but familiar too. All this blends together for really great world-building. I don’t want to give anything away, but there is a definite twist where the whole story flips into something different. You go from feeling like this is a Western to suddenly — Oh, yep, there’s the sci-fi!  

I love everything this author does because his world-building is simple but perfect. The post-apocalyptic world-building in this story involves not only a description of mass desolation but also how that desolation has changed humanity. Of course, people are going to be affected by their environment – especially under post-apocalyptic circumstances – and too often I feel like characters in post-apocalyptic fiction are just the same as people today. 

Zombie worlds all have the same familiar feel, but I really liked the idea of how “tribes” of survivors had formed in cities and how these people had reverted to more primitive ways – if the world hadn’t functioned in decades, yeah, teens wouldn’t know about electricity. The world-building in this book covers everything from setting to characters to a strange new social structure that was really intriguing.

Cyteen won a Hugo Award in 1989 and pushed the envelope on both world building and character development. For me though, it was the author’s exploration of what it means to be human that made this book one of my all-time favourites. 

In Cyteen, there are born humans and made people. Some of the made people are clones of a particularly powerful individual, but most are created to perform a function. These lower-ranked people are taught everything they need to know by ‘tape’, while they sleep. 

The book asks some deep philosophical questions about what makes a person human, and whether any of us have the right to create ‘sub-humans’ for our own benefit. These are powerful questions that still beg for answers.