If you loved how Alana and Marko slowly built a ramshackle, loving household on the run—picking up oddballs along the way—then you’ll fall for the Wayfarer’s crew in The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet. It has the same warm, banter-rich vibe you get when Saga pauses between firefights: shared meals, cross-species friendships, and hard-won trust. You’ll recognize the tenderness that keeps people together even as politics and old grudges (think Landfall vs. Wreath) threaten to rip them apart.

Marko and Alana’s desperate love across enemy lines is Saga’s beating heart. If that stole your breath, This Is How You Lose the Time War channels that same forbidden, world-defying passion—two elite agents from rival factions writing increasingly intimate letters as they sabotage each other and then can’t stop reaching out. It’s the poignant, lyrical counterpart to those moments when Alana and Marko choose each other over the endless Landfall–Wreath conflict.

If Prince Robot IV’s war obligations, The Will’s chase, and the constant run-and-gun escapes pulled you through Saga, Leviathan Wakes brings that same propulsive space opera rush. A ragtag ship’s crew stumbles into a system-spanning conspiracy, balancing high-stakes action with messy, human choices—much like how Alana and Marko keep choosing family amid chaos.

Saga’s joy is discovering cultures that feel lived-in, from the TV-headed royals to mercenaries and magic-wielders. Children of Time delivers that same awe of otherness, following the rise of a truly alien civilization whose social structures and ethics evolve in fascinating ways. If you loved how Saga made even ‘enemies’ understandable—think of how Hazel’s narration reframes both Wreath and Landfall—you’ll savor the patient, surprising empathy here.

If Prince Robot IV’s court, propaganda, and the way public narratives shape fates intrigued you, A Memory Called Empire dives deep into empire, identity, and information control. Like Saga’s quiet, dangerous conversations—think of the journalists chasing Alana and Marko—this novel thrives on subtext, cultural collision, and the costs of belonging. It’s sharp, tense, and emotionally resonant in the same way Hazel’s commentary makes every political choice feel personal.