My Top Books of 2025
At the start of the year, I made a few simple reading resolutions. The year before was a very average one for reading, and I was determined to get more from my bookish experience in 2025. So, I pledged to read fewer books (in terms of those silly little book tracker goals), read my owned big books (500+ page books), apply for fewer NetGalley ARCs, and reach for books that made me feel good. I mostly wanted to simplify reading again and stop seeing everything as a challenge that had to be tracked. I love reading – why is everything a ‘challenge’? In hindsight, I kept to all of these goals, and it was a very successful year of reading! Reading continued to be my main hobby, I only fell into one reading slump, my average star-rating was 3.75 stars and, as you’ll see, I’ve selected 14 ‘top books’ out of the 80 that I read in 2025.
The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon
In January, I tackled the behemoth that is The Priory of the Orange Tree. Standing at 825 pages, it was the perfect way to kickstart my ‘big books’ year and it is absolutely one of my favourite books of the year, earning the easiest 5-star rating I’ve given in ages. Not once did it feel like I was reading a doorstop of a book, and I immediately started recommending it to friends like some unhinged, come-to-life The StoryGraph page. This book reminded me exactly why I love the fantasy genre so much.
Here’s my original review:
A stunningly realised feminist high fantasy, in The Priory of the Orange Tree we’re plunged into a word divided where Queen Sabran the Ninth must conceive a daughter to protect her realm and the House of Berethnet. Despite being nearly 900 pages long, The Priory of the Orange Tree is action-packed from start to finish with multiple perspectives and plenty of story too – it’s clear than Samantha Shannon has poured endless research into the flawless world-building. It’s also incredibly ‘high fantasy’, featuring everything from dragons to other mystical creatures, astrology to romance, queendoms and epic battle scenes, religion and tribalism. Characters experience beautiful arcs and I adored getting to spend plenty of time with each one. Plus, the pacing is pretty good for a chunky tome: the chapters end on strong cliffhangers that keep you sat and reading for hours on end. It’s been a long time since I’ve read anything like this and I already want to read it again.
Annie Bot by Sierra Greer
My other genre love is sci-fi, and Annie Bot by Sierra Greer has remained in my mind ever since I read it in February. There’s no denying that we’re right in the thick of the AI generation and robotics seeing a huge surge. In this novel, Greer examines what happens when AI and robotics take the place of nurturing human relationships. Annie (Bot) is a human-like robot, custom-created by Doug, one of many companion bots in the Stella-Handy range. In this dystopia, these robots are made with functions that should suit any of their owner’s needs. Doug can even adjust Annie’s weight, clothing, libido, her way of processing thoughts and actions. But after a personal encounter greatly changes Annie’s cognition, she begins to evolve and adapt, changing the way she sees herself, as well as her ‘relationship’ with her owner.
As Annie learns more from Doug’s controls and commands, she slowly becomes more sentient than imagined. It’s clever how their dynamics peel back Doug’s layers: yes, he’s unlikeable, but it’s definitely interesting to start to understand his reasonings for buying Annie and the fallout of his divorce, his insecurities and shame. There’s a conversation going on here, too, about power and coercive control. This is a moving and thought-provoking novel that is truly fascinating, especially now.
I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman
Continuing with the dystopia theme, I finally read Jacqueline Harpman’s award-winning I Who Have Never Known Men in 2025. This unsettling, bleak novel follows an unnamed narrator as she is caged with 39 other women before being freed. It is quiet and unassuming, spare and spacey, and it’s stayed with me ever since. If you prefer books with lots of action, this won’t be for you – there’s lots going on but it’s all beneath the surface. Sort of reminded me of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.
The Left Hand of Darkness of Ursula K. Le Guin
It surprised me to realise that I only read one Le Guin book in 2025. Next year, I want to read more Le Guin, because I just adore her take on the world and how she brings those thoughts to life through her fantasy and sci-fi works. The Left Hand of Darkness is one of Le Guin’s most famous works for its exploration into gender identity and fluidity, as well as the beautiful nature writing and even more stunning friendship depiction. I completely loved this one for its slow pace and how Le Guin fearlessly examined humanity where gender is fluid, even if it was done imperfectly. Published in the late 60s, this was really quite the feat.
Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer
The only non-fiction to have made it to my ‘top books’ list is Braiding Sweetgrass, which I read on the cusp of spring. I’m a huge fan of nature non-fiction – especially books about trees – and this one was just mesmerising. A culmination of Indigenous values, life guidings and lifestyle, as well as scientific plant goodness, Kimmerer shines in this book to teach us how planet Earth is completely interconnected. The writing itself is totally glorious; immersive, poetic and enchanting.
Monkey King by Wu Cheng’en
I only recently reviewed this book in my Books from December 2025 post, but it’s worthy of a spot in this list because it took me right back to my childhood and growing up with Journey to the West. Funny, witty, spiritual and somber in places, this fantastical action-adventure novel brought me full-circle to why I read the books I read.
The Antidote by Karen Russell
I am already excited for my reread of The Antidote, a brilliantly on-the-nose magical realism set in America’s Dust Bowl, 1930s Nebraska. ‘The Antidote’ is a prairie witch who can keep your memories safe: speak into her emerald ear-horn and your secrets, shames, private joys leave your mind and enter hers instead. But after the dust storm, The Antidote wakes up ‘empty’. Along with three other characters in an accidental found-family, they face what’s ahead, together.
I absolutely loved this book! I highlighted endless quotes and passages, and found myself completely unable to put it down. The Antidote makes a curious protagonist: she moves between narratives, sometimes speaking to herself and narrating in first-person, others to her child in second-person, and also we eventually have three other characters feeding in. This makes it a definite ‘must concentrate’ read. There’s a lovely found-family feeling that weaves a gloriously told story about a nation’s forgetting, with an overarching conversation on climate running throughout.
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke
In the autumn, I slowed things down and locked in with Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, Susanna Clarke’s debut that casually sits at over 1000 pages. This is fantasy historical fiction at its richest and best. There’s something unmistakably Austen-esque about the prose – it’s witty and sarcastic and English and feels just perfect for the alternate England that Clarke is conjuring here. I found myself chuckling throughout the book, and her characters are at the heart of it all. They’re sparkling, perfectly brought to life and really move the story forwards. And, there’s even some hilarious appearances from Cabinet ministers of the time, that feel like they add something, rather than showing off how beautifully researched the novel is. I couldn’t fault Clarke for her gorgeous, immersive storytelling here, it’s compelling, utterly magical to read, fantastic, and it makes you want to savour an already-long book for longer.
As a caveat, this one is another of those syrup-slow reads (that I so love) where often not a lot happens. There is plenty of plot to be rewarded with after deliciously descriptive passages and endless historical footnotes which, again, I loved but I fear many readers would find this off-putting.
The Wax Child by Olga Ravn
The Wax Child is a strong contender for my book of the year, although I haven’t formally decided what that is. The Wax Child tells the story of Christenze Kruckow and a 17th-century Danish witch trial. Ravn’s poetic writing style shines off the page here, bringing to life a curiously archaic voice of a child wrought of wax – a prime example of the ‘most sinister magic’. It is childlike and unexpectedly sharp and precise at the same time, and I found no end to my favourite lines of this book! The quiet naïveté of our narrator helps to explore themes of sexuality and felinity as Christenze joins the community of women that help one another cook, clean, sew, live. Does she wish to join these heteronormative conventions and chores? Is this adding to the pile-on that she is a witch? In turn, this ‘village’ is brought to life with the sort of repetitive prose that feels reminiscent of old folklore tales being told around a fire.
The Emperor of Gladness by Ocean Vuong
Although it doesn’t seem to be many people’s favourite Vuong, The Emperor of Gladness stuck with me this year. The gentle storytelling, human voices, and found-family themes were beautiful, and it made me cry for at least half of my flight to Japan back in May.
Little, Big by John Crowley
One of my most memorable reads from 2025 was my slow read of Little, Big with The Unseen Review. Jess’ slow read series here on Substack made reading this truly unique book an accessible and deeply illuminating experience, with plenty of additional material and the safe space to openly discuss the book bit by bit. I found the book really magical to read, and the ‘slow read’ format was perfect for it.
Silvercloak by L.K. Steven
It feels like I didn’t read loads of fantasy this year and The StoryGraph agrees, telling me I gravitated towards literary fiction for the first year ever. That being said, Silvercloak really stood out to me in 2025.
From the pain-and-pleasure magic system to our fiery main character, Silvercloak is entangled with dark magic, grief, vengeance and emotion. When Saffron Killoran’s parents are brutally murdered by Bloodmoons, she vows to avenge their deaths and become a Silvercloak, a magical detective. This book has a little bit of everything: a brief academic setting, gloriously in-depth world-building, your allegiance that will switch time and time again, a high-stakes prophetical romance. Steven’s writing is rich, immersive and full of allegorical references to fantasy fiction and the real world, which I always appreciate. I was on the edge of my seat for at least 80% of this book; I completely loved this adult high fantasy and cannot wait to see what’s next for Saff!
Seascraper by Benjamin Wood
When life is really busy, I love nothing more than escaping with a slow and unfurling, atmospheric novel. And that’s exactly what Seascraper is. Set in a coastal North East England town, Wood engulfs us in the quietude and simplicity of Thomas Flett’s life as a shanker in the 1960s. I loved the perfectly wrought language that Wood chooses here: his writing is rich, calm and simple at the same time, suffusing the story with a curious eeriness and that unsettling feeling in your stomach that comes with any coming-of-age story. I highlighted endless quotes and many of my book notes remark how human and compelling Thomas’ interactions are with filmmaker Edgar Atcheson, who acts as our stark antagonist. What occurs over a few days in this book feel like they’ll stay with me for a long time. This won’t be for those that want action and a solid ending.
The Palace on the Higher Hill by Karim Kattan
An own-voices novel, Kattan brings to life Faysal, who has recently learned that his aunt – whom he can’t remember – has passed away. He travels from his exile in Europe back home to the titular ‘palace on the higher hill’ – their now-crumbling family home on the West Bank – recounting ghosts of his and his family’s past and, all the while, learning of his people’s story. There’s a sense of push and pull, urgency and disillusionment, exile and home, throughout the story, and Kattan explores identity and a truly unique, lived perspective of Palestine in this offbeat family saga.
Kattan’s turns of phrase are gorgeously translated into a trailing first-person perspective that magnetises you from the first page. The way that it’s told solely in Faysal’s voice adds a surreal, solitary layer to the story which really emphasises how Palestinians feel – alone, displaced, unbelieving. I completely loved this book and think you should all read it as well.
