If you’re looking for great new books to buy, try these picks for the best science fiction and fantasy books of 2023, like Fourth Wing and Chain-Gang All-Stars.
It’s been another banner year for science fiction and fantasy books. Many of our favorites once again blur the line between sci-fi and fantasy, but this year was a particular standout for books blurring the line between SFF and other genres. This includes everything from historical fiction — both speculative histories and Westerns — to fable retellings to intergenerational sagas in translation.
Though we seem to have crested the wave of pandemic novels, that sense of dread and discoloration has lingered, written into novels of new forms. There’s a preponderance of post-post-apocalyptic science fiction unpacking lofty ideas like sentience and humanity, often set on different planets or among the stars. It has also been a standout year for supernatural horrors and thrillers, particularly ones that mix queer longing with a dose of body horror. Last but not least, it’s been a great year for kissing books set in fantastical worlds.
So jump in and take your pick. Whichever direction you head in, it will be sure to grip you — and make you think. This list is in reverse chronological order, so the newest releases are listed first. We updated this list throughout 2023, sometimes retroactively adding in entries that we missed from earlier in the year. We’ve also included our favorite runners-up.
Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett, Victory City by Salman Rushdie, The Crane Husband by Kelly Barnhill, The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older, Monstrilio by Gerardo Sámano Córdova, White Cat, Black Dog by Kelly Link, Divine Rivals by Rebecca Ross, Our Hideous Progeny by C.E. McGill, The Cheat Code (Wisdom Revolution #3) by Misba, The Deep Sky by Yume Kitasei, Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Vampires of El Norte by Isabel Cañas, Prophet by Sin Blaché and Helen Macdonald, Terrace Story by Hilary Leichter, Her Radiant Curse by Elizabeth Lim, Starling House by Alix E. Harrow, System Collapse (The Murderbot Diaries #7) by Martha Wells, Dark Heir (Dark Rise #2) by C.S. Pacat
Same Bed Different Dreams by Ed Park
Same Bed Different Dreams is a remarkable achievement, and not for the faint of heart. Through three storylines, the book creates a kind of speculative history of Korea, with an emphasis on World War II and Japan’s colonial rule and aftermath (and, crucially, the United States’ involvement). One story thread builds out a hefty alternative history of the Korean Provisional Government’s role and reach. Another story thread focuses on a Black Korean War vet who wrote a sci-fi epic series called 2333, which is later adapted into a video game. And yet another story thread has a more futuristic flavor, focusing on a has-been writer who now works for a tech company called GLOAT. These threads periodically intersect — for example, GLOAT ends up owning the rights to 2333, and turns it into a kind of edutainment.
If it sounds like there’s a lot going on, it’s because there is. And it’s made even denser by the author’s Pynchonian sense of humor. Some of its best moments are utterly weird or feel like the writer was smirking — like a character’s dog who can’t stop “archiving” by burying found manuscript pages, the fact that GLOAT employees truly don’t know what the acronym stands for, or the idea that Marilyn Monroe is a member of the Korean Provisional Government. These absurd bits only make it harder to comb apart what’s real and what’s Ed Park’s “alternate history” in sections with realistic-sounding combinations of fact and fiction.
It’s got the same ambitious patchwork as Jennifer Egan’s The Candy House and Namwali Serpell’s The Old Drift. Critics have compared it to everything from David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas to David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest. There’s also, of course, books within the book. It’s a fever dream of a thing, and one I’d heartily recommend, but perhaps with a notebook in hand or some sticky notes to help track the references. (Or perhaps, as I did, just letting the wave of information roll over you, until you’re left with a vast impression and a desire to reread.) —Nicole Clark The Scarlet Alchemist (The Scarlet Alchemist #1) by Kylie Lee Baker
Do not go into The Scarlet Alchemist expecting typical YA fare. What Kylie Lee Baker delivers is a story of visceral brutality, interlaced with elements of Chinese history and thoughtful meditations on family, race, and belonging. It’s a book that can turn your stomach as easily as it can break your heart.
Set in an alternate Tang dynasty, the novel follows Zilan, a profoundly talented young alchemist who travels to the capital in hopes of landing a coveted position in the royal service. But being a poor, half Scotian girl means the odds are stacked inordinately high against her in the imperial service exams — and that’s before her skills with the illegal art of resurrection catch the prince’s attention and pull her into a dangerous political game. While the premise seems familiar (underdog competes in trials, falls into star-crossed romance), Baker’s skills with immersive world-building, knotty characters, and genuinely gruesome horror make The Scarlet Alchemist a dazzling and singular tale that left me rushing to read her back catalog. —Sadie Gennis Land of Milk and Honey by C Pam Zhang
After I read How Much of These Hills is Gold in 2020, C Pam Zhang became an instant must-read author in my household. Land of Milk and Honey is entirely unlike her debut — where her debut’s language was sparse and pointed, this book is florid and indulgent — though similar in the extent to which it transported me somewhere entirely new, and more than a little threatening.
In Land of Milk and Honey the climate apocalypse has rendered fresh produce, at scale, a thing of the past — which is to say a provision of the extremely rich. The protagonist, listless and hungry, applies for a job as a private chef for a mysterious family in the Italian Alps (those who live around it call it “la terra di latte e miele”). While there, she unravels the family’s true intentions, while making them delicious meals from rare ingredients.
Zhang sensuously describes all pleasures of the tongue, moving from descriptions of lapping of culinary delicacies to the folds of the flesh. Food feels hyperreal, with an emphasis on the texture and taste of every ingredient — and sometimes the cruelty of that ingredient’s procurement. The same can be said of its scenes depicting queer intimacy; that texture and taste take precedent, and the cruelties of human emotion, too. Even after I finished, I was hungry for more. —N. Clark Every Drop Is a Man’s Nightmare by Megan Kamalei Kakimoto
This short story collection initially caught my attention with its cover, which depicts a woman springing up from the center of a corpse flower, like a stalk standing against the wind. Each story weaves together Hawaiian mythology and the everyday lives of the Hawaiian and mixed-race Japanese women who live there.
These stories range from fabulism to science fiction, all speculative fiction in their own way. In one story, a woman’s encounter with a wild pig ends up foreshadowing a complicated pregnancy later in her life. In another story, a Brazilian waxing company allows people to pay for hairless skin by giving up personality traits. In another story, the narrator falls for a woman who lives with her family — in one of numerous queer stories in the collection — but has to cope with that woman’s decision to return to “what remains of Kaua’i” and join their protests.
The author’s own words, published in The Guardian, sum it up best: “There is a mythical idealisation of the islands of Hawaii as paradise, peace in the tropics; some even call it a modern utopia. Yet this flattening of Hawaii to a postcard image divests our homeland of its culture and colour, reducing us to a place and history that is easily digestible. But we are not easily digestible, and our stories are not meant to be easy for you.” —N. Clark He Who Drowned the World (The Radiant Emperor #2) by Shelley Parker-Chan
An alternate history of the founding of the Ming dynasty, He Who Drowned the World shifts between four tragically ambitious figures willing to pay any price to materialize their destiny, whether that’s revenge on the empire or crowning themselves the ruler of it. They pursue these goals with unshakeable inertia, doing endlessly cruel and sadistic actions with only the occasional doubts as to whether happiness could be possible if they chose a different path.
This is a relentlessly brutal sequel, and there’s a hopelessness that weighs heavy throughout the book. But Parker-Chan’s penetrating ability to bring empathy and nuance into even the darkest corners of humanity sparks an undeniable connection with these characters, whose self-destructive natures would otherwise be too hard to bear witness to. He Who Drowned the World is a dark and difficult read, yet Parker-Chan’s prose is so brilliant, her character work so complex, that I still found myself sad to leave this world behind. —SG Labyrinth’s Heart (Rook & Rose #3) by M.A. Carrick
One of my favorite fantasy series of the past five years, Rook & Rose is an intricately layered trilogy where there are so many secrets, schemes, and conspiracies that at times it’s admittedly difficult to keep track of them all. Because of that, there were a lot of loose ends to tie up in the anticipated conclusion, Labyrinth’s Heart. (Ren alone was juggling four different identities at the novel’s start.) So imagine my surprise when I discovered M.A. Carrick not only managed to leave no question unanswered by the series’ end, but wrapped up even the most complicated storylines in big, bright bows.
There are elements of Labyrinth’s Heart that feel like they were precisely crafted to cater to fans, but here’s the thing: I don’t really care. Carrick created such a lush world populated by lovable characters, an interesting magic system, and a lived-in cultural history that I was just happy to be back in Nadežra after a two-year wait. While things may have been tied up a bit too neatly for my usual tastes, that didn’t stop me from whipping through pages and smiling the whole way through. Sometimes it’s nice to simply soak in a happy ending rather than bathe in the bittersweet. —SG Mister Magic by Kiersten White
The latest fantasy-with-an-irresistible-pop-premise from the author of Hide, Mister Magic revolves around a children’s TV show no viewer can forget … or prove it ever existed in the first place. There are no official records of it, no YouTube videos or merchandise or passed-around VHS tapes, and any discussion of it on the internet rapidly disappears. But the people who remember seeing it are convinced the special effects were remarkably vivid and realistic. They agree the central concept is unnerving: a creepy magician-figure leading a group of children in imagination-games aimed at teaching some decidedly non-standard lessons about embracing conformity and meekness. And they’re all sure that something horrible happened while they were watching, though they can’t agree on what.
A reunion between five of the former child cast members, taking place 30 years after the show ended, slowly unravels its mysteries, which are even weirder than the description above suggests. Mister Magic is a startling dark fantasy with a lot of foreboding, foreshadowing, and eerie twists. At heart, though, it’s also an incisive story about the kinds of people who revel in control over other people’s lives, and about what an act of rebellion imagination can be. —Tasha Robinson The Museum of Human History by Rebekah Bergman
A poetic reflection on memory, loss, and connection, The Museum of Human History is a stunning debut reminiscent of the work of Emily St. John Mandel. Slipping backward and forward in time, this introspective mosaic weaves between an identical twin whose sister fell asleep at age 8 and has never aged in the 25 years since, a museum director who questions his place within the family legacy, a widower who lost his most cherished memories as a result of an anti-aging treatment, and others equally struggling with the passage of time. There is a lyrical detachment in Bergman’s prose that leaves you feeling like you’re watching events unfold through a pane of thick glass, never fully able to connect with the characters, yet you remain helplessly transfixed by the haunting cycle they’re caught in. It’s an incredibly melancholy book, but the kind of aching sadness you’re happy to sink into. —SG The Jasad Heir (The Scorched Throne #1) by Sara Hashem
“Arin of Nizahl was maddeningly elegant. I wanted to cut him open and compare our bones to understand why his gave him grace and mine gave me back pain.” This was the line that absolutely sold me on The Jasad Heir, an irresistible enemies-to-lovers fantasy that reminded me why I’ll never quit this genre.
Headstrong Sylvia is the presumed dead heir of Jasad, a kingdom that was destroyed by the neighboring Nizahl and saw its citizens’ innate magic outlawed. Sylvia managed to carve out a relatively normal life for herself as a chemist’s apprentice, but everything falls apart after she accidentally reveals her magic to the heir of Nizahl. Using her life as leverage, the calculating Arin strikes a deal with Sylvia to help him capture a group of Jasadi rebels and act as his champion in a series of deadly trials. It’s a familiar setup, but one impeccably done by Hashem, who delivers sharp political intrigue, sparkling banter, and touching friendships on top of Sylvia and Arin’s simmering romance. —SG The Surviving Sky (The Rages Trilogy #1) by Kritika H. Rao
After I finished The Surviving Sky, I wouldn’t shut up about it and tried (not always successfully) to get everyone I know to read it. So let me try once more, and maybe with less yelling this time:
With the planet’s surface made unlivable by catastrophic storms, the remains of humanity survive on floating cities constructed of and powered by plants that only a select group of people, known as architects, can control. An archeologist without the ability to traject plants, Ahilya has dedicated her life to finding a way to unshackle humanity’s survival from the architects’ powers and return to the surface. It’s not hard to see why this mission causes friction in her marriage to Iravan, one of the most powerful architects in their city, and one with an arrogance to match his revered status. Though estranged, Ahilya and Iravan come together to help clear his name after he’s accused of pushing his powers dangerously far, an accusation, which if proved true, carries dire consequences for the architect.
But the deeper they look into trajection and its risks, the more Ahilya and Iravan realize they don’t actually know much about where their people – and their powers – came from. And as the floating cities begin to sink toward the earthrages below, the race to save their civilization may also be the end of society as it stands, as Ahilya and Iravan uncover long-buried truths that previous generations worked hard to keep hidden.
So did I do it? Did I convince you to read this Hindu philosophy-inspired debut with some of the most inventive world-building and one of the most complex romances I’ve read in years? Please say yes. You’ll be doing us both a favor. —SG The Combat Codes and Grievar’s Blood (The Combat Codes Saga #1-2) by Alexander Darwin
In the world of The Combat Codes, war no longer exists as it used to. Neither does justice — both concepts have been replaced by proxies who fight on behalf of nations or individuals, solving disputes with their fists.
