100 books like The Two Georges

I love Star Wars, and I’ve been a Star Wars nerd forever. This book jumps into an Imperial conspiracy to restore the Empire using the ghost of its old leader, Grand Admiral Thrawn, who was long thought dead. 

I read this one thinking that the “conspiracy” was upfront and required no special thought. Still, two of the key players—Borsk Fey’lya and Major Grodin Tierce—are playing their own games within games, creating an interwoven conspiracy I confess I didn’t see coming until I read it. When I re-read the book, I looked hard to find their clues, and I had to carefully study each to find the underlying markers. It was an enjoyable, if jolting, way to delve into Star Wars lore.

When I think of Heaven, I think about angels, bliss, and no more sorrow. I don’t usually think about political machinations, rivalries between angelic factions, and alliances of convenience with demons. However, in this book, I found that the afterlife isn’t what we necessarily think it is, and I loved that both Heaven and Hell have their own agendas.

Doloriel, an agent of Heaven, navigates a delicate balance of keeping his boss angel happy while not losing his own soul. This task becomes more difficult when he meets a demon consort named Casimira. I found it riveting that he and Casimira discover that their bosses have their own plans, plans that might not always match the images we know of Heaven and Hell.

I always hear that disaster brings unity, but what if that “unity” was all a manipulation for power? Hidden Empire reminded me a little of the immediate aftermath of 9/11. I’ve wondered if, given our political divisions, we could ever come together like that again.

Orson Scott Card created a world where someone manipulates our division and desire for unity, and I loved seeing how someone could play us on so many levels. Reading about the use of a common enemy to wipe out national leadership and then playing up our political differences to create chaos, I became engrossed in a story about political intrigue and whether or not a savior was the hero we really wanted or the hero he wanted us to believe he was.

Fighting off alien invasions has become a passé, so I’ve wondered what living on a conquered Earth, one where resistance was gone, would be like. How would we live? Way of the Pilgrim showed me that, along with what humans are willing to do to survive and, in some cases, thrive in such an environment. 

While I like reading about our better natures, it has always been our baser desires that have always enthralled me. Shane Evert is a cross between a selfless hero and a man with his own interests at heart, and his plans for humanity clash with his desire for comfort. In the end, he leads his own conspiracy and finds one among the aliens he never imagined could exist.

This book is a glorious exhortation to live, even when—especially when!—death is lurking. It takes place in the plague of 1666. I used to have a bizarre fear of the bubonic plague (like I imagined it was in my closet and, if I opened the door, it would escape out into the world), so it’s strange how much I love this book.

I think it’s because Anna, the main character, is such a force. She repeatedly reminds me to connect with the natural world and myself and then to stretch and reach beyond what I thought I was and who I thought I could be. It's magic.

After life as an unpaid servant to her clergyman cousin, Annabelle Archer’s ecstatic to win a scholarship to Oxford from the National Society for Women’s Suffrage—even if accepting means participating in the group’s political campaigning. A drive to sway influential gentleman to the cause lands Annabelle and her new suffragist friends at a house party given by the haughty Duke of Montgomery, a man far more interested in winning back the family properties his father lost gambling than in debating married women’s property rights. Until he starts debating with Annabelle…

A familiar story, plot-wise. The joy here comes from Dunmore's lovely writing, deft characterizations, and the palpable tension she creates between two people on opposite sides who fall into desperate, exhilarating, and completely unwanted love.

This book filled me with the thrill and horror of being a sailor, the addiction to the sea, and the beauty and tragedy of the world at the time of the Napoleonic wars; it filled me with this experience as if I were there, friends with the protagonists, seeing the sails fill and shine in the sun, receiving my bowl of grog, preparing for battle.

Patrick O’Brian was one of the world’s top experts on the British Navy and the Napoleonic wars, and this gorgeously written series takes you into their most intimate experiences. O’Brian bases his battles on move-by-move histories of real events, and by listening to Patrick Tull read the audiobook (could Tull be the best reader of all time?), I not only feel that world to be real to me, but I wish people spoke to each other with the articulation and meaning of his characters.

Book two of the Game, Set, and Match trilogy is the spy splot that I wish I could write. While the plot is global in scale, with characters crisscrossing continents, what grabbed me was the blending of international espionage with the domestic life and troubles of lead character Bernard Samson. To me, it felt a lot closer to the truth than the plastic, all-action creations of other spy writers.

This book introduced me to the magnificent John le Carré and his grey man, George Smiley. The atmosphere is cold and heavy, the hero is unassuming, and the light he holds against the darkness is small and flickering.

To unravel the truth, Smiley focuses on one piece of information that doesn’t fit. He doesn’t stop until that last piece falls into place and presents him with a wrenching choice.

I loved this because there is a sense of foreboding from the beginning, and the horror builds. SW Perry pulls you into the dirt, grime, and grunge of Tudor London and the roughness of life at the end of the Tudor reign.

You are immersed in the sheer awfulness of medieval medicine and the arrogance of the people who led it. You can almost smell the streets and laboratories and hear Tudor London's din. I also loved it because the key characters are sympathetically developed and flawed.

Also, the dual point of view leads you to feel a sense of urgency and fear, which adds to the pace of the reading.