Dark Matter, by Blake Crouch

In physics, “dark matter” is a hypothetical form of matter, which we are pretty sure exists even though we can’t prove it. This works as a good metaphor for a thriller based on paranoia and conspiracies. Or you could take the title of Blake Crouch’s new book very literally. The circumstances are a dark matter, indeed: A man is kidnapped, drugged, and wakes up to find that the life he had is completely different. Daniela, his loving wife, is now dating an academic rival; his son, Charlie, was never born. On top of that, our guy, Jason, is being doggedly pursued by a group of strange scientists who are confused about why he doesn’t remember them.

The opening act strikes an intoxicating, sinister tone. As the book finds its footing, the sci-fi machinations start kicking into gear, opening the novel into a voyage that involves blindly leaping into different dimensions (plus a really earnest motif about work vs. family). The sci-fi doesn’t get super heady—it’s more Sliders than Primer—but Dark Matter is a thriller first. This book is about movement, and this one moves fast. Blake Crouch is known for the moody Wayward Pines trilogy (now a Fox show you’ve never watched). It’s clear he has a better grasp of how to keep a reader turning pages than to seal all the holes in a plot. But reading Dark Matter, you’ll be running so fast that you’ll never need to look behind you.

TLDR: The thriller equivalent of that episode of Community about the darkest timeline.

The Continuous Katherine Mortenhoe, by D. G. Compton

Maybe you don’t want a sci-fi thriller, per se. Maybe you prefer your science fiction to be more...British? And I don't mean that in the Doctor Who way. (If you're a Whovian, my book recommendation for you is Tumblr dot com.) The Continuous Katherine Mortenhoe, recently reissued by NYRB Classics, is a savage critique of media packaged in a near future where very few people ever die. Which makes Katherine special, because she has just been diagnosed with a rare, fatal disease. With only four weeks to live, she becomes the subject of a reality-TV show called Human Destiny. It’s all very Black Mirror.

The book alternates from the perspective of Katherine and the host of the TV program, whose point of view is that of the show’s. He is literally “the man with the TV eyes,” with tiny cameras implanted in his retinas. As you might expect, Compton’s central theme here is the dynamic between the public and private self, and the ethical questions raised when technology is able to surveil people. Considering Katherine Mortenhoe was originally published in 1974, the book is eerily relevant in a world where we’ve surrendered so much of our personal information to tech giants like Facebook and Google. It also reads like something written today, which is impressive for something written yesterday about tomorrow.

TLDR: UnREAL : The Bachelor :: Katherine Mortehnhoe : Big Brother (the U.K. version, obviously).

Hot Dog Taste Test, by Lisa Hanawalt

Recently, I’ve started to prefer the aesthetic of mixtapes to albums. I suppose the literary equivalent of that is a notebook, or in the case of Lisa Hanawalt’s Hot Dog Taste Test, a sketchbook. This collection feels like peering into her brain, which is colorful and irreverent and often gross-out funny. Hot Dog follows up Hanawalt’s other delightfully weird comic, My Dirty Dumb Eyes, but you might recognize her work from the cartoon BoJack Horseman, for which she lent her signature character designs (animal heads and human bodies are a Hanawalt specialty). Though much of the book comes from her published work in Lucky Peach, there’s a lot here that illustrates her range as an artist: richly saturated watercolors, playful marker work, pencil sketches, and even a little photography.