If Corwin’s hazy, calculating voice hooked you—waking in a hospital with no memory, bluffing his way past Random and confronting Eric while concealing his motives—you’ll relish Severian’s confession in The Shadow of the Torturer. Like Corwin, Severian narrates his rise and wanderings while hiding gaps, recasting events, and forcing you to read between the lines. The way Corwin withholds truths about the Pattern and the Trumps finds a dark mirror in Severian’s selective revelations about the guild, his exile, and the powerful figures he serves and betrays.

If you loved the knife’s‑edge court maneuvering around Eric’s coronation on Kolvir and the back‑stabbing between Oberon’s children, A Game of Thrones delivers that same thrill on a grander scale. The feints and betrayals—Eddard Stark navigating a treacherous Small Council, the Lannisters tightening their grip, oaths traded and broken—echo the way Corwin tests loyalties with Benedict and Random while plotting to unseat his brother. It’s the same intoxicating mix of honor, ambition, and treachery—just with even deadlier pieces on the board.

If crossing Shadow with Random to reach Amber, shifting realities like changing lanes, and dealing with near‑divine rulers fired your imagination, The Maker of Universes is a perfect next step. Farmer’s pocket cosmoses are stacked like Amber’s infinite reflections, ruled by powerful Lords whose whims reshape reality. The revelation that behind familiar worlds stand capricious, long‑lived architects scratches the same itch as discovering the Pattern, the Trumps, and the hidden hands of Oberon’s line.

If Corwin’s willingness to raise guns from Shadow, spill blood on the Pattern’s periphery, and play his siblings against each other kept you riveted, you’ll be drawn to Jorg’s cold‑eyed climb in Prince of Thorns. It’s the same intoxicating perspective: a prince who narrates his own ruthless ascent with wit and venom, turning setbacks into stepping stones the way Corwin pivots from amnesia to a bid for the throne. You’ll recognize that blend of charisma, brutality, and destiny‑driven obsession.

If Corwin’s sardonic, boots‑on‑the‑ground voice—brawling through Shadow, striking bargains with Random, and springing traps around Eric—was your jam, Heroes Die puts you in similar company. Caine narrates with the same razor edge, navigating a deadly otherworld while outmaneuvering patrons and enemies alike. The tightly plotted gambits, bone‑crunching fights, and calculated betrayals feel like Corwin’s campaign for Amber filtered through even grittier stakes and a narrator who knows exactly how much to tell you—and how much to weaponize.