These thrilling books demolish the biggest myth in genre storytelling
Three of science fiction and fantasy’s best storytellers have returned after agonizingly long absences, and they’re all breaking one of the strongest rules of the genres: that characters are supposed to be lovable, or at least likable. These novels feature protagonists who buck convention by rarely knowing what they’re doing and not always doing the right thing. All three of these books are addictive because of their messy, disastrous heroes, not in spite of them.
1. ‘Blackheart Man’ by Nalo Hopkinson
Hopkinson, a Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America award-winning grand master, hasn’t published a novel since “The New Moon’s Arms” in 2007 – but the unpredictable “Blackheart Man” is worth the wait. Hopkinson has created the ultimate flawed hero: Veycosi, a historian in training who makes rash decisions and cooks up schemes. As Veycosi’s home, a fictional Caribbean island called Chynchin, faces destruction at the hands of eldritch forces as well as its former enslaving occupiers, Veycosi keeps coming up with ways to make matters even worse. He starts the book by creating a disaster – with the best of intentions – and then continues, speeding, down that road.
Veycosi is a troublesome hero, fit for a slyly subversive book. Hopkinson sets up all the pieces of a war novel, or perhaps a supernatural horror story, then surprises the reader again and again with a sumptuously described meal, or a scene of romantic flirtation. Veycosi’s messily polyamorous love life provides at least as much suspense as those foreign invaders, as he falls for both a man and a woman who jointly threaten to destabilize his existing relationships.
Perhaps the most subversive aspect of “Blackheart Man” is the way it complicates the relationship between Chynchin, a former colony, and its ex-colonizers, the Ymisen. Despite their power, the Ymisen aren’t necessarily more sophisticated, and we see their leaders craving access to the scholarship and wealth of knowledge of Chynchin’s Colloquium. Nor is Chynchin without sin: Its residents include a marginalized ethnic minority, the Mirmeki, who must fight for equal treatment.
Hopkinson is a gifted storyteller, so it should come as no surprise that “Blackheart Man” is a novel about storytelling, threaded with tales both ancient and brand new that add up to something truly startling.
2. ‘Glass Houses’ by Madeline Ashby
Kristen is the Chief Emotional Manager for Wuv, a start-up tech company that aims to measure emotions and turn them into a form of money. This absurd (but all-too-believable) venture has just been sold, so its executives take a trip to celebrate, only to find themselves stranded on a terrifying island after their private plane crashes.
Ashby’s first novel in eight years shows that she has lost none of her sardonic touch, delivering plenty of razor-sharp barbs. About a swampy-hot summer day, she writes, “Stepping outside felt like being kissed by a boy who didn’t know how.” A professional futurist, Ashby also expertly skewers the hubris and machismo of tech companies. The masterminds of Wuv fancy that they can measure and harness human emotions, only to discover just how hard it is to control their own reactions to being in a life-or-death situation.
Still, Kristen herself is the most thrilling part of “Glass Houses”: A trauma survivor, she’s hypervigilant, making sense of her circumstances faster than anyone else around her. Where female characters are so often expected to be relatable, Kristen is delightfully spiky and calculating. And she has dark secrets of her own, which Ashby unspools slowly. Even as the deadly island springs surprise after surprise, the truth about Kristen is the biggest shock of all.
3. ‘The Mercy of Gods’ by James S.A. Corey
Corey (the joint pseudonym of Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck) hasn’t published a book since the Expanse series ended with “Leviathan Falls” in 2021. “The Mercy of Gods” is something new but just as exciting: an addictive mix of thriller, weird science fiction and grounded narrative about academia. I’ve never read a book quite like this one.
Dafyd Alkhor is a research assistant to a superstar molecular biologist, but his real talent is navigating academic politics – until aliens called the Carryx show up and kidnap all of humanity’s best and brightest, including Dafyd and his team. Now these researchers are working for the Carryx in a kind of prison/research facility, and Dafyd’s instincts for playing all the angles suddenly come in handy.
Alien captivity is a common enough science fiction trope – but Abraham and Franck revitalize it with their compelling focus on scientific process and interpersonal dynamics, among other things. The result is a philosophical novel about adaptation: how organisms can adapt (or be adapted) to radically new circumstances, but also how humans can adapt to the nearly unthinkable. Is it better to work for the interstellar empire that kidnapped you, or die fighting? At the center of it all is Dafyd, another unconventional protagonist, whose sometimes craven choices come to seem downright heroic.