If stepping through LitenVärld’s wormholes with Ava and Jules—chasing a customer’s grandmother via the FINNA tracker—gave you that delicious jolt of wonder and danger, you’ll love the way the students at Eleanor West’s Home talk about the doors they’ve found and the worlds they survived. Like the showroom portals, each doorway leads to a place with its own rules and costs, and the story stays intimate and character-first the way Finna does.

You laughed (and winced) as corporate sends Ava and her ex Jules into interdimensional showrooms with a cheery device and no real support. Horrorstör nails that same big-box absurdity: an overnight shift in a knockoff-IKEA uncovers a labyrinth of cursed rooms and mandatory smiley corporate scripts. It skewers retail culture with the same bite and humor that Finna uses on LitenVärld’s policies.

If what held you in Finna was Ava and Jules renegotiating boundaries—apologizing, bickering, and slowly finding a better way to be—this gentle novella gives you that same evolving bond. A tea monk and a curious robot wander together, asking good questions and fixing small problems, much like how Ava and Jules learn to work in sync while navigating those perilous showrooms.

As with the FINNA device sending Ava and Jules across dangerous parallel Ikeas, this novel’s tech lets Cara slip between hundreds of Earths—if her counterpart there is dead. The thrills are real, but what stands out is how the jumps expose who gets used, who gets paid, and who gets erased. If you liked Finna’s multiverse weirdness threaded with critique and queer identity, this hits squarely.

If you enjoyed the compact, high-stakes scramble of Ava and Jules versus LitenVärld’s liability-obsessed management, Murderbot’s ordeal on a corporate-run survey mission will feel familiar in the best way. The voice is dry and funny, the cast is small and endearing, and every choice is shadowed by cost-cutting policies—just like that ‘go rescue the customer, here’s a device, don’t make a fuss’ energy in Finna.