100 books like The Heroes

Here is yet another book where at first it seems as though there are no heroes.

Abercrombie writes a masterful world filled with magic, politics, swordfights, and bleak attitudes. One of the main POV characters is a torturer—I mean a full-on break your toes and laugh about it torturer—but even still, I found myself wanting more of his story. He’s certainly not a hero, but he was at one point, and that’s even more intriguing.

The characters drive this fantasy series, but the world is also a gorgeous setting that Abercrombie clearly spent many long nights thinking through. Every detail feels like it matters, and throughout this trilogy, the smallest specks of plot come back to matter.

On top of it all, I loved the audiobook narrator and his particular performances for each character brought the world to life.

The Expanse series was a real game-changer for me. An epic space opera set in a very real and gritty future with a host of working-class heroes.

James, Naomi, and Amos work in deep space on an ice trawler and only become involved in the action by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When they get swept up in the story, the characters must learn and adapt to navigate the world of politics and espionage.

This book series walks the tightrope of creating a very possible future in space without getting too impeded, explaining the science of how that all works. If you like epic space opera set in a plausible future, this series is a fantastic read.

Dashiell Hammett, more than any other author, created the hardboiled anti-hero. He’s also a damn fine prose writer. I re-read one of his books every year because of this, hoping perhaps to absorb his spare, elegant style. Each sentence is brutally trimmed of any excess and yet resonates with layered meaning. 

Dashiell Hammett himself was a broken hero. He fought in two World Wars for his country and yet was sent to jail by the committee for un-American activities for refusing to name names. He was a communist, who yet, as a young man, worked for the fascist, union-busting Pinkertons.

A complex, troubled individual who created dark and cynical worlds, and none more cynical than that of The Maltese Falcon. Here, we have a femme fatale, a hardboiled detective, gangsters, and conmen, all vying for the titular prize. It is a mean-streets masterpiece. 

Jessica Cluess surprises not just the readers, but also each of the characters in her novel with her choices for protagonists. Every new emperor in her world is chosen from a contest amongst the eldest heirs of each of the five major houses of the land. But this time, the eldest of each family is spurned and the younger, apparently weaker child is picked to compete. House of Dragons is a lot of fun, and the story has a clever construction, for this strange choice of hero is no accident. There is a powerful reason and lesson in House of Dragons. Read it and find out why we sometimes want the second pick for the team.

The old story of the child who was secretly the son or daughter of royalty is a solid fantasy trope. And for good reason—it resonates. Almost all children secretly imagine they are a prince or princess, that they are special. The Pariah has none of that. Young Alwyn’s mother was a prostitute, and he never knew his father. Be certain that his dad was no one special, for this is not one of those kinds of stories. Alwyn is a thief, grubbing out an existence in the forest with a band of robbers. As far as personal virtues go, Alwyn is a liar and murderer. Anthony Ryan redeems Alwyn, though, digging into the good that exists even in those that have acted so heinously. And I may have described Alwyn uncharitably—the thief is a product of tough times, neglect, and hard realities. When he somehow ends up in service to… show more.

Was there ever a less heroic leading character than Prince Jalan? Apparently a vain, selfish coward, he would not even be likable if he was not also funny and honest. Well, he is honest some of the time, in his inside voice, even while being a liar to almost everyone else. So, when Jalan gets unwillingly and unwittingly caught up with an enormous Viking to go on a quest to save the world, I had to wonder how this one was going to work out. But it turns out that Jalan may have been lying to himself more than the reader, or himself, even realized, and he may not be quite the coward that he says he is.

The protagonist of this book is Takeshi Kovacs, a former UN elite soldier turned private investigator. He’s old, or, to be precise, his mind has been around for decades, kept in ‘storage,’ a form of virtual prison. He is ‘decanted’ from storage and put into a body–a ‘sleeve,’ a temporary residence that he may get to keep if he does this one job: solving a seemingly unsolvable murder. 

Fifteen years ago, when I first read it, Altered Carbon showed me cyberpunk still had something to say. I wasn’t a writer then and hadn’t even considered being a writer, but I did think to myself: were I ever to write, it would be in this genre. Fifteen years later, the very same author, Richard Morgan, provided the cover praise for my debut novel. Surreal.

One of Megan Abbott’s early gems, this book dragged me down into the muck of midcentury noir, and I LOVED IT. When I was first diving into the genre of noir, I was aching for more female representation (besides the evil femme fatale or the Girl Friday you see pop up in so much of the classic noir literature).

This book feels both modern and like a throwback, with women in the driver’s seat for once. This is a book I reread when I need a boost as a writer to remember why I love writing and why I love noir specifically—it’s short, but it packs a mighty punch. 

I cried at the end of this brilliantly crafted novel about the futility of war.

It shows how an unnamed society might respond to ongoing conflict. Both sides have de-humanised the other; both are committed to revenge and retribution for the daily tragedies; and groups on both sides believe there can’t be peace without the total subjugation of the other.

I really appreciate how Nik’s worldview is shaken – and ultimately widened – when he crosses into enemy territory to find a captured friend. This story is a lesson in how peace can never come without justice, or empathy, told through great characters, gripping plot, and nail-biting tension.

(I imagine the unspecified city as being in Australia/New Zealand – the author is from NZ.)

When recommending Geraldine Brooks’ multi-layered and intricately crafted March, another book must always be mentioned. Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. March is the Pulitzer Prize-winning historical fiction rooted in Alcott’s classic novel that’s been read and loved for centuries. The March of the title is Jo March’s father in Little Women. In real life, his name was Amos Bronson Alcott. And he was the father of Louisa May Alcott. Brooks tells March’s fictitious story masterfully and with great historical acumen. Her depictions of Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson are truly historic. Geraldine Brooks is not a historian. Her husband Tony Horwitz was. In Brooks’ case it seems that to fall in love with a historian is to fall in love with history as well. March is the beautiful proof.