If you were gripped by how Amanda’s conversation with David keeps slipping between memory and menace—never letting you know what’s real—then you’ll love the way I’m Thinking of Ending Things confines you to a narrator’s troubled mind while reality frays at the edges. Like the way the “rescue distance” fixates Amanda until it distorts everything from Carla’s story to the poisoned horses by the stream, Reid’s narrator spirals through a road trip and an eerie school visit where certainty collapses and every detail feels like a trap.

If the surreal interrogations in Fever Dream—David pressing Amanda to find the exact moment when “the worms” entered, the soul-splitting healer, the sickening water—left you thrilled by that off-kilter, fevered logic, The Third Policeman deepens that sensation. Its narrator wanders a countryside where bicycles and bodies exchange atoms, and policemen enforce rules that feel as arbitrary and terrifying as David’s relentless questions. It’s the same skin-prickle of dread when familiar rules go wrong.

If you liked how Fever Dream traps you in a single, urgent dialogue—Amanda on a hospital bed, David guiding her back through Carla, Nina, and the toxic stream—Hamid’s slim novel offers that same claustrophobic intensity. One voice addresses a silent listener over a single evening, and the tension builds in what’s said and unsaid, just as David’s prompts force Amanda to revisit the moments she missed. It’s intimate, inexorable, and impossible to look away.

If the poisoned water, dead animals, and warped child in Fever Dream haunted you—Carla’s desperate gamble with the healer, Amanda tracking the “rescue distance” as toxins seep into every choice—Annihilation channels that same eco-horror. A biologist’s field journal in a contaminated zone documents mutations, disappearances, and a landscape that gets inside you. The dread isn’t just out there; it colonizes the mind, just as David insists the exact moment of contamination matters.

If Amanda’s fixation on Nina’s safety—the measured “rescue distance,” the tallying of risks—made Fever Dream hit hard, Shriver’s epistolary novel turns that same forensic gaze on motherhood’s dread. Through Eva’s letters, you watch her excavate every early sign and overlooked moment with Kevin, much as Amanda replays Carla’s warnings and the night at the stream. The single-voice, document-like narrative tightens the screws until love and fear are indistinguishable.