Summer is officially here, which means it’s time to revisit my never-shortening reading list, cross off the books I’ve made it through, feel a twinge of guilt about those I haven’t opened yet, and stuff it full of new titles to take on vacation. 

As readers of this newsletter might have guessed, I spend a good chunk of my free time (such as that is) reading science fiction. However, for the past year and a half, I’ve also been working on a ProPublica and Drilled investigation into how fossil fuel money warps academic research on climate change. Through my reporting, I’ve become utterly fascinated with how corporate money has shaped research writ large, and how our dominant climate narratives came to be. I would be remiss if I didn’t give a brief shoutout to a few non-fiction titles I’ve revisited during the past year, including Naomi Oreskes’ and Eric Conway’s Merchants of Doubt, Genevieve Guenther’s The Language of Climate Politics, and Andreas Maln and Winn Carton’s Overshoot: How the World Surrendered to Climate Breakdown. 

All are worth your time. But if you’re looking for something a bit more removed from the horrors of modern existence, here are the new-ish sci-fi, fantasy, and horror books I’ve most enjoyed reading this year, plus a few I haven’t started yet.

The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, by Stephen Graham Jones (2025)

Acclaimed horror writer Stephen Graham Jones’ latest work took home a 2026 Nebula Award. This, along with what I’ve read about the plot—which revolves around an undead member of the Blackfeet Tribe’s quest for revenge in the wake of a brutal massacre—placed it at the top of my summer reading list. As America’s 250th anniversary approaches, I’ve been encouraged to see Native writers offering fresh retellings our nation’s history that shed light on some of its uglier moments—moments we need to remember if we want to understand how we arrived at today.

The Death of Mountains, by Jordan Kurella (2025)

Another 2026 Nebula award winner, Jordan Kurella’s latest novella is about an Appalachian mountain that faces Death itself after being carved up by generations of coal miners. It’s a beautiful allegory for humankind’s exploitation of nature that has vibes of N.K. Jemisin’s Broken Earth Trilogy, which also turns rocks into people. Magical realism meets geology is one of my favorite budding sub genres, and if you haven’t tried it out it yet, this short book is a great place to start.

The Faith of Beasts, by James SA Corey (2026)

I am still only halfway through The Faith of Beasts, because my attention keeps getting pulled in different directions. And yet, I find myself riveted by the latest installment of Corey’s new space opera series The Captive’s War. A far-future retelling of The Book of Daniel, the novels revolve around a group of human scientists who are taken from their homeworld to work for the Carryx, a race of sentient cockroaches who’ve built a galaxy-spanning empire out of alien slave labor. I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck, who write together under the Corey pen name, about their new series and the science underpinning it. Check it out for a lot more context.

Rose/House, by Arkady Martine (2023)

Over the past year, I’ve grown fascinated by the Silicon Valley discourse around AI, which seems increasingly steeped in tropes from 50-year-old science fiction. Thankfully, contemporary sci-fi writers like Arkady Martine are taking AI in new directions. The Hugo-winning author’s latest novella—a murder mystery that takes place inside a sentient piece of architecture—raises fresh questions about what artificial intelligence actually is, while showing how our (human) need to assign boundaries and bodies to dispersed algorithms can lead us to underestimate them. It’s twisty, haunting, and unexpected to the very end.

Automatic Noodle, by Annalee Newitz (2025)

For an even starker inversion of every AI trope Sam Altman wants you to believe, please read this novella about a ragtag group of droids who open a noodle shop in San Francisco. Set in a near-future California where robots have been granted basic rights but not full citizenship, Automatic Noodle asks big questions and small ones at the same time. Can robots who lack tastebuds make mouth-watering biangbiang noodles? Apparently, yes. Should they be accepted as masters of the craft? It depends on whether you are willing to see a blender on wheels as a person—and in Newitz’s future, the meatbags haven’t made up their minds yet. But Newitz challenges our conventional notions of personhood in a way that’s both thought-provoking and highly entertaining. Their latest work was a finalist for the 2026 Nebula awards, so this isn’t just Maddie’s robot bias talking.

Greenteeth, by Molly O’Neill (2025)

For cozy fantasy with a touch of grimdark, you can’t do much better than Molly O’Neill’s Greenteeth, which I will admit I purchased entirely based on the cover. The tale that followed did not disappoint: An ancient lake monster, a magical mom, and a goblin embark on an epic quest to defeat an evil power that’s taking over Britain. Steeped in Celtic folklore, it’s old-school fantasy with modernized characters whose struggles with identity, community, and parenthood will be relatable to many readers, especially the momma bears out there.

Hungerstone, by Katt Dunn (2025)

As a sucker for all things vampire-related (sorry), I needed little convincing to read this modern retelling of the 1872 Gothic novella Carmilla, which Goodreads describes as a “thrillingly seductive sapphic romance.” In case you do, Dunn’s Hungerstone is a fast-paced, deeply satisfying read that takes the female rage simmering beneath so many Victorian-era novels and surfaces it like a tsunami. Katt Dunn’s re-imagining of Carmilla’s story is the best blend of Gothic horror, vampire romance, and revenge quest I’ve read in years, perhaps ever. If you’re in your feelings about a relationship gone sour, it’s the book for you.

Yours for the Taking, by Gabrielle Korn (2023)

I’ve wanted to write a more in-depth review of this book for over a year, and maybe I still will. But here’s the short plug: Yours for the Taking is an astonishing, underrated work of climate fiction that takes the genre in wild new directions. On a decaying and increasingly lawless future Earth, an all-female utopia beckons. But the climate-controlled biodome known as “Inside” is not what it seems. Rather than uprooting patriarchy, it replicates many of modern society’s oppressive power structures as the second-wave feminist billionaire behind it attempts to foist her vision of freedom upon its inhabitants. It’s a fast-paced, thrilling read that warns that ultra-rich mavericks aren’t going to save us.

The Jellyfish Problem, by Tessa Yang (2026)

A modern-day Loch Ness monster story steeped in marine biology? Hell yes.

A giant jellyfish terrorizes a small town off the coast of Maine. The only person who can solve the tentacled mystery? An introverted marine biologist greiving the recent death of her scientific partner. This book is hot off the press, but a recent NPR interview with the author—which hints at the misunderstood nature of an abyssal beast struggling to survive in a deteriorating environment—intrigued me enough to pick up a copy. I’ll report back.

A City Dreaming, by Maurice Broaddus (2026)

Also on my summer reading list is the third and final book in Maurice Broaddus’ Astra Black trilogy, which has drawn comparisons to both Black Panther and The Expanse but is truly a thing of its own. Set in a version of the 22nd century where the so-called Muungano empire has spread across the solar system, this afrofuturistic series envisions what it might look like for people of Africa and the African diaspora to escape the shackles of history and Earth’s gravity well. For more context on the series and the scientist-turned-middle school teacher behind it, check out my 2022 interview with Broaddus about Astra Black’s first installment, Sweep of Stars.