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The only thing that made me feel better about pruning down this list of 2025’s most intriguing science fiction, fantasy, speculative, and horror novels (crossed with romance, metafiction, and other subgenres) is that there are still so many more books to shout out about every month.
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But for now, let’s look ahead at 20 books that really stood out: murder ballads and Shakespearean sibling dramas with robots; magic school tales about students and faculty; simulations and snuff films; Hercules and Cleopatra retellings; not to mention Saints and sapphic lady knights. From space stations to distant isles, glitchy roadside attractions to the darkest corners of the Internet, 2025’s SFF books will transport you anywhere you want—and probably a few places that will make you glad you’re reading from the comfort of your couch.
Makana Yamamoto, Hammajang Luck
(Harper Voyager, January 14)
It’s quite fitting to kick off 2025 with a space heist—and one inspired in part by Ocean’s 8, no less. Serving a sentence on an icy prison planet, Edie jumps at the chance for early parole. However, they’re less enthused to see it come in the form of their comrade-turned-double-crosser Angel, who dangles the promise of one last job: revenge on their attempted mark from the job that went south, a gentrifying trillionaire. It sounds as if Makana has poured not only their Hawai’ian heritage, but also their nonbinary identity, into an exciting debut.
Erika Swyler, We Lived on the Horizon
(Atria Books, January 14)
I’ve probably said it a dozen times on these lists, but I am a sucker for far-future tales about how society reforms itself into a new cultural moment built on familiar touchstones. To wit, the Sainted—the descendants of the original founders of Bulwark, a walled metropolis designed to withstand the future’s many disasters. But when one Saint is murdered, another Saint is brought in to investigate the most suspicious aspect of the case: Parallax, Bulwark’s overseeing AI, has erased all evidence of the murder from its records. Seeing as Parallax maintains the city’s history, this does not bode well. Saint Enita Malovis will use her specialty as a bio-prosthetist to create a hybrid being to interact with Parallax, but she may not like what she discovers…
Nnedi Okorafor, Death of the Author
(William Morrow, January 14)
Nnedi Okorafor’s Binti was one of the first novellas launched by Tordotcom Publishing while I was on staff at Reactor (then Tor.com), so she’s always been an author I’ve associated with daring form and content. Her latest novel is a metafictional book-within-a-book about Zelu, a disabled Nigerian author who channels her career frustrations into an ambitious sci-fi saga about the AI apocalypse. Like R.F. Kuang’s Yellowface, but with a speculative twist, the author loses control of the narrative and life imitates art when the robots do actually rise, with Zelu’s novel Rusted Robots offering a new way forward.
Grady Hendrix, Witchcraft for Wayward Girls
(Berkley Books, January 14)
Grady Hendrix sets his latest tale of girlhood and power in a place that stripped its residents of both: the Wellwood House for Unwed Mothers, a Florida maternity home in the 1970s. It’s a familiar, gut-wrenching story, in which girls “in trouble” were sent away for the duration of their pregnancies, resulting in the baby being adopted and the young woman returning to her family months later as if nothing had ever happened. Fifteen-year-old Fern is the latest resident to be renamed and monitored at Wellwood, but when a kindly librarian lends her a book called How to Be a Groovy Witch, she discovers the ability to cast spells. At first she and the other girls—Rose, Zinnia, Holly—use small charms to treat morning sickness and otherwise make their temporary stays bearable, but they soon discover greater connections and a deeper well of power. This unlikely coven will fight back against the strictures of Wellwood, the unsafe homes they’re expected to return to, and society’s demands on girls’ bodies.
Amal El-Mohtar, The River Has Roots
(Tordotcom Publishing, March 4)
If you loved the time-crossed enemy-spies-to-lovers novella This is How You Lose the Time War, you’ll be delighted to hear that co-author Amal El-Mohtar has written her first solo debut, a reworking of a 17th-century murder ballad anchored by the bond between two sisters. How can you not get chills from a lyric like this: Oh what is stronger than a death? Two sisters singing with one breath. What began as an audio-only novelette (drawing on el-Mohtar’s own experience with the harp) has transformed into a novella with illustrations: In the town of Thistleford, Hawthorn sisters Esther and Ysabel raise their voices together to sing about everything from adventure to sadness. But when Esther flees a betrothal in favor of a lover from Faerie, the sisters will have to draft a far darker ballad to save their lives.
Emery Robin, The Sea Eternal
(Orbit Books, March 11)
The Empire Without End duology is a dazzling retelling of the lives of Cleopatra, Mark Antony, and Julius Caesar through space opera: Altagracia Caviro Patramata, princess of Szayet, puts herself into the hands of Ceian conqueror Matheus Ceirran. But after his murder, Gracia aligns herself with his mercurial captain Anita, who in turn is hunting down Matheus’ assassins. It looks as if the second book will follow Anita’s perspective as she grapples with her heady attraction to Gracia, even as she distrusts the immortal AI Pearl that makes the princess into an oracle. Meanwhile, Matheus’ heir Otávio Julhan is gunning for the throne… I loved how The Stars Undying built out Ceiao and Szayet, so I can’t wait to witness Anita’s interstellar travels, especially as they take her across enemy lines into a rival empire.
Silvia Park, Luminous
(Simon & Schuster, March 11)
Silvia Park’s debut is garnering comparisons to Kazuo Ishiguro for how it sets an android-centric mystery against the reunification of Korea, though Park points to Shakespeare as inspiring the estranged siblings (two humans, one robot) at the heart of the story. Each makes a living or exists because of robotics; Morgan designs them—and is secretly dating one—while Jun possesses several bionic implants following a military accident; and Yoyo is their humanoid brother, lost in childhood. But when a North Korean refugee discovers Yoyo in the junkyard, it dovetails with a missing AI case that Jun is investigating for Seoul’s Robot Crimes Unit, as well as Morgan’s greatest creation rapidly evolving out of her control. Luminous has already been optioned by Media Res, the studio behind AppleTV+’s adaptation of Pachinko.
Katherine Addison, The Tomb of Dragons
(Tor Books, March 11)
It has been an utter delight to watch Katherine Addison return to the world of The Goblin Emperor, and one character in particular: Thara Celehar, introduced in the 2014 novel as a Witness for the Dead, whose story has driven the Cemeteries of Amalo trilogy for the past five years. Stripped first of his access to the goblin court, and now of his ability to speak with the dead, Celehar nonetheless still has commitments to the living. Investigating a murder as well as political unrest, Celehar must do what he has always done: witness, and speak for, those with no voice. The fact that both this trilogy and Goblin Emperor are listed beneath the series title The Chronicles of Osreth gives me hope that this isn’t Addison’s final visit to this ethereal and engrossing kingdom.
Alex Gonzalez, rekt
(Erewhon Books, March 25)
For many reasons, I’m glad to have been introduced to the Internet when I was 12; I can’t imagine growing up entirely swallowed by it. But if ever there was a disturbing horror novel to encapsulate that experience, I think this is it, as it opens with a bunch of 10-year-olds at a sleepover watching execution videos. rekt builds upon this nasty layer of realism, then turns it supernatural: After a car crash kills his girlfriend Ellery, 26-year-old Sammy Dominguez finds guilty solace in old creepypasta forums and other weird corners of the Internet. But as he stumbles his way to the dark web, he witnesses the familiar depravity of snuff films—first, incredibly, a video of Ellery’s death and then, impossibly, the deaths of people who are still alive. Are they paranormal premonitions? Deepfake threats? A nihilistic inevitability? What most draws me to this book is how Gonzalez says that he doesn’t know if he and his readers would be friends, but that we are all strangely bonded by watching the same horrible things online far earlier than we ever should have.
Daryl Gregory, When We Were Real
(Saga Press, April 1)
I have a feeling that When We Were Real and rekt will be in conversation this year, though this is the far more cheerfully nihilistic option. Seven years ago, humanity confirmed what many had long suspected, that we live in a simulation. And yet, life has continued on—even if, for best friends JP and Dulin, that means JP’s cancer returning. Facing a terminal diagnosis, the two decide to go on a digital pilgrimage to take in North America’s Impossibles, or geographical glitches arranged along the road. Their ensuing adventure has the horny cheek of the Canterbury Tales crossed with the brilliant TV series Mrs. Davis, but what really gets me is the idea of knowing your life is a simulation and still facing down your own mortality for entirely different reasons.
Venessa Vida Kelley, When the Tides Held the Moon
(Erewhon Books, April 29)
I first came across Venessa Kelley’s illustrations for Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and One Last Stop, but then suddenly her work was all over Instagram, whether as book covers or commissioned art of authors’ (and readers’) beloved OTPs. To discover that she has a historical romantasy coming out and that it’s fully illustrated feels like coming up from a dive with buried treasure. In Coney Island’s Luna Park, Benny Caldera struggles to make a living building ironworks while struggling with how New York City will accept him as a queer Afro-Boricua migrant. His latest creation earns him a found family in Coney Island’s freaks, but then he falls hard for the creature that he has unwittingly helped cage: Río, a beautiful merman from a distant land. As Benny sinks into a sea-crossed romance, he must choose between tentative acceptance and destroying their livelihood to save Río’s quality of life.
Emily Tesh, The Incandescent
(Tor Books, May 13)
Some Desperate Glory, Emily Tesh’s passionate rejoinder to Ender’s Game, absolutely devastated me, but in many ways her next standalone novel sounds like a return to the tender, queer Greenhollow novellas that served as many readers’ introduction to her fantasy work. A passionate rejoinder to magic schools, The Incandescent follows the beleaguered faculty of Chetwood School, in particular Director of Magic Doctor Walden. She can do it all, teaching sixth formers and fending off demons from feeding off the young, impressionable students… until she can’t do it anymore, and the demons are still hungry. This sounds like magical burnout, like finding out your teachers are real people with their own messy shit, like a relatable story to professors and academics and people trying to burn the (magical) candle at both ends.
John Wiswell, Wearing the Lion
(DAW, June 17)
John Wiswell’s (Someone You Can Build a Nest In) second novel remixes Greek mythology, specifically the labors of Hercules. Here, he’s Heracles, a well-meaning himbo who has been raised to always seek the approval of his aunt Hera. Little does he know that that’s his mortal mother covering her ass, as Heracles is one of Zeus’ bastards and Hera detests him. But when a tragedy unleashes Heracles’ more monstrous impulses and destroys his family, he embarks on a quest to discover which Olympian has it out for him. The dramatic irony is awfully compelling, the generational trauma of Greek myth sounds as if it will be elevated from subtext to supertext, and overall I’m just very interested in Wiswell’s take on the messiness of Mount Olympus.
R.F. Kuang, Katabasis
(Harper Voyager, August 26)
With her two most recent novels, R.F. Kuang has invited us to follow her into the depths of alt-history Oxford powered by silver translation magic (Babel) and scathing publishing industry satire (Yellowface), so it makes sense that her next book would draw directly upon Dante’s Inferno. From the ancient Greek word for descent (specifically, into Hell), Katabasis follows rival Cambridge students Alice Law and Peter Murdoch as they venture into the underworld after a recently deceased professor. Not because they particularly like or admire Jacob Grimes, the world’s greatest (formerly living) magician, but because they both need his recommendation to ensure they have academic futures. Late-night Magick study sessions will turn into a surprise attraction in what sounds like a dark(ly funny) academia.
©Kate Dollarhyde 2023
Sarah Gailey, Spread Me
(Tor Nightfire, September 23)
Sarah Gailey’s Just Like Home retold the haunted house story through a sentient home; now, their erotic horror novella grants similar self-awareness to a rogue organism searching for a human host on a research station. A warm, wet human host. Consider that the protagonist is named Kinsey, and that tells you all you need to know about how queer this spooky tale will be, as she breaks quarantine on their remote outpost to bring inside a specimen buried in the sand outside. Contamination is only the first violation, as Kinsey and her colleagues are strangely tempted to open themselves up to this alien being—but, as this is still a horror story, at what cost?
C.L. Clark, Fate’s Bane
(Tordotcom Publishing, September 30)
While we eagerly await the end of C.L. Clark’s epic Magic of the Lost trilogy (also this fall), I am deliriously excited to check out their standalone novellas. This first one is described as a sapphic Romeo & Juliet but set in a world like The Northman, in which hostage and ward Agnir grows up among her enemy clan, absorbing their ways and falling for the chieftain’s daughter. I feel like recent R&J retellings don’t delve deeply enough into what makes the Montagues and Capulets convinced they are so culturally different despite existing in the same city; I can only hope that Fate’s Bane will tackle that dissonance, alongside the forbidden love and even more forbidden magic that the tragic sweethearts unlock together.
Yume Kitasei, Saltcrop
(Flatiron Books, September 30)
I feel as if each year that I’ve been including one of Yume Kitasei’s books on my most anticipated list, I know less and less about each one. The Deep Sky had full cover copy by the time I wrote about it; The Stardust Grail had the great hook of reverse Indiana Jones in space; and now Saltcrop is simply this description from the author herself: “a dystopian novel about two sisters who sail across the ocean to find their missing sister, who has gotten entangled with corporations who want what she discovered.” I really enjoy how Kitasei has handled fraught family dynamics in speculative settings, and I always appreciate when an author shares that their latest project has been a stretch for them; so in this case, I am all aboard.
Freya Marske, Cinder House
(Tordotcom Publishing, October 7)
I was about to file this list when Freya Marske updated her Instagram and I audibly gasped in delight. Swordcrossed just came out a few months ago, so I wasn’t anticipating anything new, but Marske’s take on Cinderella? Say less. Actually, say more: It’s a ghost story, where Ella haunts her stepmother and stepsisters but is trapped in a clock-striking-midnight sort of time loop where she constantly returns to the staircase where she died. When a fairy charm-seller grants her three nights of life, of course she’ll go to the ball; of course she’ll fall in love (but not with who you think); of course she’ll have to leave it all behind. Someone in the Instagram comments made a joke about Casper, but now all I can think of is queer Cinderella whispering, “Can I keep you?”
Fran Wilde, A Philosophy of Thieves
(Erewhon Books, October TBD)
Fran Wilde is such a generous member of the SFF community, hosting free monthly write-ins on her Patreon and teaching courses and workshops encouraging writers to push boundaries; so it’s a delight to see her doing the same with her own work. Post-apocalyptic Leverage where performance thieves use high-tech wardrobes to burglarize the ludicrously wealthy? Count me in. In this Gaslamp fantasy future, Roosa and Dax Carnavier must rob one of the year’s most exclusive soirees, or else their father will be sentenced to death. But just as the siblings are broadcasting their heist for entertainment and income, they underestimate just how prepared their marks are for their intrusion. I can’t wait for the half-dozen different ways in which all of these fascinating characters will quadruple-cross one another.
Tasha Suri, The Isle in the Silver Sea
(Orbit Books, October TBD)
Tasha Suri wrote her sapphic lady knight romance “for anyone else who has felt as if they were from ‘Elsewhere’—invisible in the tales that raised them.” This standalone novel combines Arthuriana (particularly The Green Knight) with the Punjabi diaspora, as Simran and Vina (a knight and a witch) are fated to fall in love and kill each other over countless lifetimes, or else their Isle will collapse into the sea. But this latest reincarnation will change everything, as they are determined to rewrite their story. The fact that Suri also cites queer zines and fanfiction as influences means this is likely to be many readers’ dream book, worth waiting most of the year for.
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