Five Books That Are Out Of This World
Sci-fi for sceptics
Welcome to Five Books For, a newsletter for people who love great stories. I’m so happy you’re here.
When I was growing up, sci-fi (and fantasy too) was generally perceived to be for nerds. When, aged 11, we were asked to give a presentation to our class about something we liked, I proudly talked for the allotted time about Star Trek: The Next Generation with no consideration for how my schoolmates might perceive me afterwards. (I still love Star Trek now and strongly believe that Picard is the best Captain of all time.)
These days, it feels like fantasy is having a cultural resurgence - perhaps thanks to the Lord Of The Rings films reaching new audiences, or the popularity of Game of Thrones or Harry Potter. I find myself wondering if sci-fi is due a similar revival (perhaps via Stranger Things?) I hope so. Because when more people discover sci-fi, more people get to share in the joy of aliens, space travel, richly imagined futures, time travel, parallel universes, and all the other strange and dazzling things the genre has to offer - not to mention the deep reflections on humanity that sci-fi is so good at exploring.
In this month’s books, we travel across centuries, planets, and dimensions of the mind. Whether through time-travel anomalies, sudden surges of intelligence, alien biology, or the naive perceptions of AI, these novels explore questions of identity, survival, and what it means to be human (and, in one case, what it means to be stuck in a luxury moon hotel with a murderer). Whether you’re a sci-fi sceptic or already a fan, I hope you find something new to surprise and delight you.
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Okay, let’s dive in!
Sea Of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel
“If definitive proof emerges that we’re living in a simulation, the correct response to that news will be So what. A life lived in a simulation is still a life.”
So what’s it about? This is another spectacularly beautiful novel from Mandel, centred around a mysterious event that echoes through time: the sound of violin music playing in an airship terminal. It’s first encountered by a young gentleman, exiled from his family, in a forest on the Canadian coast in 1912 - but it’s also experienced by an author on a book tour on Earth, far from her home on the Moon, and by a time investigator from the far future, tasked with uncovering the source of the anomaly.
What’s great about it? As ever, Mandel’s prose is gorgeous - lyrical, elegant and poetic without sacrificing clarity or venturing into abstraction. This is a quiet, contemplative book - thought-provoking, melancholy and full of hope. The structure hops between different eras but it never feels scattergun; instead, it’s both intimate and cohesive because Mandel focuses in on the experiences of the characters and their interior lives rather than aiming for grand spectacle.
There’s a gentle, thoughtful exploration of the idea that reality is a simulation, but rather than using this as a jumping-off point for a plot-driven thriller, Mandel examines it with the emotional curiosity that we also saw in Station Eleven, which I recommended last month. I especially loved that while each of the main characters lived in a different century, they all echoed each other emotionally, which made the book feel more resonant and cemented the idea of a shared human experience regardless of time.
Give it a try if: you love beautiful prose; you love literature; you’re in the mood for something that’s emotive and resonant; you like quiet, contemplative books; you love sci-fi; you’re sceptical about sci-fi but happy to dip a toe in the waters; you’re drawn to books that explore what it means to be human.
Flowers For Algernon by Daniel Keyes
“Strange about learning; the farther I go the more I see that I never knew even existed. A short while ago I foolishly thought I could learn everything - all the knowledge in the world. Now I hope only to be able to know of its existence, and to understand one grain of it. Is there time?”
So what’s it about? Flowers For Algernon follows the story of Charlie Gordon, a man with a low IQ, who undergoes an experimental surgery to increase his intelligence. The procedure has already been tested on a mouse named Algernon, who has become startlingly clever. At first, the operation appears to be a miraculous success: Charlie’s intelligence skyrockets. But as his cognitive abilities grow, so too does his emotional awareness and his isolation. Ultimately, when Algernon begins to decline, Charlie is forced to confront the fragility of what he’s gained.
What’s great about it? Told entirely through Charlie’s journal entries, the novel traces the arc of his transformation with extraordinary authenticity. The evolving voice - his grammar, spelling, and insights shifting as his IQ rises and then declines - is remarkably done. It’s hard to imagine a novel even attempting this today, but Keyes pulls it off with brilliance. The first-person perspective makes the story far more immediate and affecting than any third-person narration could have been.
Keyes uses this form to its fullest potential, crafting a narrative that is deeply empathetic and quietly devastating. He explores the space between knowledge and happiness, intellect and connection, with compassion and emotional precision. First published as a short story in 1959 and then expanded into a novel in 1966, it remains one of the foundational texts of science fiction. The ethical questions it raises - about medical intervention, consent, personhood, and dignity - feel as urgent now as ever, decades after it was written.
Give it a try if: you love thought-provoking books that explore real-life issues through fiction; you love books with emotional depth; you love books which are predominantly character-driven; you don’t mind books that will break your heart; you like to read books which are foundational to their genres.
Alien Clay by Adrian Tchaikovsky
“Because the hardest thing about sacrifice is not knowing if it’ll be worth it. What’s the point in taking the bullet if the person behind you in the charge loses heart, dithers, runs away? You may as well have stayed at home. You only have one life after all. It can be very hard to know when to throw it away.”
So what’s it about? Scientist Arton Daghdev has been exiled to the hostile planet of Kiln, a penal colony for dissidents, after falling foul of Earth’s authoritarian regime. Kiln is rich with poorly understood alien life, despite the vast, enigmatic structures that suggest the presence of intelligence. When Daghdev is given the chance to study some of the planet’s biological samples, he’s thrilled - at first. But Kiln’s life forms are mysteries wrapped in more mysteries, and the risk of contamination is ever-present. Life in the prison camp is brutal, but Kiln’s biology may hold out the only hope for survival - and, just possibly, the key to revolution back on Earth.
What’s great about it? The world-building here is astonishing. Kiln is lush, strange, and brimming with life that challenges everything we know about evolution, although it all feels scientifically grounded and biologically plausible. Tchaikovsky’s ecosystem is wildly imaginative but underpinned by real scientific logic, which makes the alien feel uncannily real.
Daghdev is a compelling lens through which to view this world: flawed, proud, but deeply curious. Through him, Tchaikovsky explores ideas both vast and intimate, from the mechanisms of biology to the machinery of oppression. The novel takes the familiar ‘first contact’ premise and flips it on its head: what if life didn’t evolve into individual organisms, but rather as collective, cooperative, mutable entities? What would that do to our sense of self, of agency, of what it means to survive?
There’s body horror here too, but it’s used sparingly and to great effect, creeping in at the edges rather than dominating the narrative. What lingers more is the book’s central question: what does it mean to be free - biologically, politically, or intellectually? And what might real change require - rebellion, reinvention, or outright mutation?
Give it a try if: you love books with exceptional world-building; you love books about science; you find evolution or biology fascinating; you’re interested in philosophical questions; you’re love books that explore current issues through an imaginative lens; you love stories of survival; you love books that aren’t afraid to be brainy.
The Launch Party by Lauren Forry
“Penelope dismissed every protocol she knew as soon as it entered her head. She could not call in any backup. She was on the moon. She could not call in SOCO. She was on the moon. She couldn’t even examine the scene properly because she didn’t have any protective gear. She was on the moon.”
So what’s it about? The first-ever luxury hotel on the moon is opening, and ten lucky contest winners are setting off on the three-day journey, thrilled to be the first guests. Amongst them are a journalist, a reality TV star, a billionaire and Penelope, a London police officer. But when they arrive, they’re baffled to find that all of the staff have returned to Earth with the shuttle, and the hotel is empty. Is this a bizarre PR stunt? A secret reality show setup? Or is something more sinister going on?
The mystery deepens when one of the guests is found murdered the next morning. With no way to call for help and three long days until another shuttle can arrive from Earth, the remaining guests must work together to survive. But trust is in short supply, and Penelope will need all her instincts and experience to uncover the truth and keep them alive.
What’s great about it? Forry takes the classic format of a closed-circle mystery and cleverly transposes it into a high-tech, claustrophobic near-future. The glamorous setting and luxury of the hotel provides a sharp contrast to the rising paranoia of the guests, and the steadily mounting tension keeps the pace brisk. Layers of hidden motives and personal rivalries make the unraveling of the mystery both satisfying and sinister and there’s a real joy to reading something so Christie-esque set in space - Forry manages make it feel completely believable despite the fact that no one has travelled to the moon for decades now. Think a low-gravity, high-stakes version of Christie’s And Then There Were None.
Give it a try if: you love Agatha Christie or golden age detective fiction; you love sci-fi and feel like trying something a little different; you love books with memorable characters; you love books which take real joy in their nods to previous classics.
Klara And The Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro
“‘But then suppose you stepped into one of those rooms,’ he said, ‘and discovered another room within it. And inside that room, another room still. Rooms within rooms within rooms. Isn’t that how it might be, trying to learn Josie’s heart? No matter how long you wandered through those rooms, wouldn’t there always be others you’d not yet entered?’”
So what’s it about? Klara, an unusually observant Artificial Friend, is designed to be a companion for lonely children. From her place in a store window, she watches the world with hopeful curiosity, studying the humans who pass by. Eventually, she’s chosen by Josie, a sickly teenager, and Klara devotes herself completely to bringing happiness to her new family. Powered by the sun, Klara reveres it with an almost religious faith - and comes to hope that the sun might have the power to heal Josie, too.
What’s great about it? Klara and the Sun is one of those quietly devastating novels that slips past your defences and then lodges itself quietly in your heart. Ishiguro uses Klara’s limited but earnest perspective to explore themes of faith, love, and sacrifice. The novel’s simplicity belies its emotional depth, raising profound questions about whether love can exist without true consciousness, and indeed on the nature of consciousness itself.
While the world Klara and Josie live in is a dystopia shaped by genetic engineering, the advance of AI, and great inequality, it unfolds subtly, with no grand exposition but rather a slow, graceful accumulation of detail. Klara’s often literal-minded attempts to make sense of human behaviour are by turns funny, haunting, and profound. What makes this novel sing is its restraint: Ishiguro is one of my favourite writers and I’m always blown away by how beautiful (and often heartbreaking) his prose is even as it’s so simple and clear. Klara And The Sun is full of his usual subtlety and grace.
Give it a try if: you love quiet, philosophical fiction; you love literature; you love books which explore contemporary issues in a subtle, heartfelt way; you’re interested in the changes AI will bring to society; you love books that examine what it means to be human.
Thanks for reading!
I hope you found something good to read here. As ever, I’d love to hear if you’ve read and loved (or even hated) any of the books here, and which ones you’d add to the list. You can reply directly to this email or leave a comment by clicking the button below.
Join me next time for the fun stuff edition, where I’ll share an extra recommendation, a poem and a few great links to read. I also have a brilliant recommendation for you over at my Global Comment Great Adaptations column later in the month - I’ll share the link in the next edition so stay tuned for that.
In the meantime, I wish you happy reading,
Kate
Love the painting so much. I've read Sea of Tranquility. It took me a bit to get into but once I did I enjoyed it. I recommended it to my husband and he thoroughly enjoyed it too. I could relate to the locations on Vancouver Island which made it extra special.
Such a great list! We discussed Sea of Tranquility last year on our podcast and really enjoyed it. Launch Party sounds fascinating - I'm picking it up immediately!
- Shruti