If you loved how Sphereland turns big ideas—like measuring a huge triangle to show curved space and the balloon‑universe analogy—into plot, you’ll savor how The Planiverse builds a fully worked 2‑D world with real constraints. Following Arde, you’ll see how chemistry, engineering, and even climbing work when creatures are literally flat—an intellectual continuation of the Hexagon’s experiments and debates with Flatland’s authorities.

In Sphereland, the young scholar’s leap from Euclid to curved space—and the shock of discovering a larger cosmos beyond Flatland—sparks that heady sense of “more.” White Light takes that thrill further: a mathematician literally journeys into a realm where you can walk to infinity, visit Hilbert’s Hotel, and treat higher dimensions as places you can explore. It’s the same boundary‑breaking wonder, just pushed into the infinite.

Where Sphereland uses story—like the astronomer’s giant‑triangle test and the clash with Flatland’s priests—to probe truth and perception, Einstein’s Dreams offers brief, luminous tales that ask how different kinds of time would shape lives. If the expansion of the Hexagon’s worldview intrigued you, these meditations will scratch the same itch, trading proofs for beautifully crafted parables.

If the wry send‑ups in Sphereland—from hidebound academicians to doctrinaire priests refusing to see curved space—made you grin, Adams’ cosmic farce will delight you. From the demolition of Earth for a hyperspace bypass to deep‑thought answers that miss the question, it skewers authority and certainty with the same mischievous spirit, while still geeking out about big ideas.

Like Sphereland’s dimensional revelations challenging Flatland’s censors and customs, Gulliver’s Travels sends its traveler through Lilliput, Brobdingnag, and beyond to expose the follies of rigid thinking. If you enjoyed how geometric discovery doubles as social critique—those scenes where empirical results collide with dogma—Swift’s sharp, imaginative allegory will feel like a classic precursor.