If you were captivated by how Misskaella draws wives from seals and the island’s ordinary marriages curdle into something uncanny and cruel, you’ll love how The Fox Woman threads the kitsune myth through a household. As a fox becomes a woman to claim a nobleman, his existing marriage frays from the inside—much like the seal-brides’ homes do when their hidden pelts and sea-longing haunt every room. The prose is lush, intimate, and unsparing about desire’s costs.

If you admired how The Brides of Rollrock Island moves from Misskaella to husbands to children like Daniel—each voice refracting the same tragedy—Lanny builds a similar polyphonic spell. A rural village speaks in overlapping voices while the ancient spirit Dead Papa Toothwort coils through their lives, much as the selkie magic coils through Rollrock’s gossip and guilt. The shifting perspectives create that same creeping, communal complicity you felt on the island.

If the island’s tight rooms, the hidden seal-skins, and the quiet ache of the sea-brides called to you, The Gracekeepers offers that same briny hush. North, a circus performer living afloat with her bear, crosses paths with Callanish, who tends the water-burials that govern their world. Like Rollrock’s rituals and whispered bargains, their sea-bound duties hem them in, and the story lingers on the tender, lonely choices people make when the water owns them.

If the ruthless undercurrent of Rollrock—the stolen pelts, the trapped mothers, the children paying the price—stayed with you, The Changeling channels that same night-tide of dread. When Apollo’s family is shattered by a folkloric horror, he descends into a hidden New York ruled by old tales and new cruelties, echoing the way Rollrock’s myth makes men and women do terrible, intimate things. It’s grim, propulsive, and as unsettling as Misskaella’s bargains.

If Daniel’s dread of his mother’s pull back to the water—and the hollowed-out homes of the seal-wives—felt devastating, Our Wives Under the Sea turns that ache inward. After Leah returns from a disastrous deep-sea mission, Miri watches her change in ways that feel tidal and inhuman, much like the selkie brides who were never meant to stay ashore. It’s intimate, eerie, and painfully tender about loving someone the ocean is still claiming.