If you were swept up by Addie and Henry’s love trying to survive centuries and bargains told across shifting timelines, you’ll fall hard for Clare and Henry. Like Addie slipping through eras while only one person remembers her, Henry drops into Clare’s life at different ages, their relationship assembling itself out of sequence into something achingly whole. The emotional beats—like Addie’s moment in the bookshop when Henry finally remembers her name—echo here in scenes where love persists even when time won’t cooperate.

If you loved how Addie’s story stayed intimate—one woman, one curse, one city at a time—this slim novel offers the same personal magic. Like Addie being erased yet leaving traces (the seven-star motif in art, the brief impressions she makes on strangers), Gaiman’s narrator returns to a childhood lane where memory and myth blur. The battles are small but piercing: a kitchen table, a pond that might be an ocean, and a choice that costs more than it seems—just as Addie’s deal with Luc reshaped her life in the quiet spaces.

If Addie’s Faustian bargain and centuries of anonymity made you ponder what a self is without witnesses, Harry August will scratch that philosophical itch. Harry remembers every life he lives and must decide what responsibility comes with knowing more than others—much like Addie weighing how to use her endless years, whether as a muse for artists or in the desperate bargain she strikes to save Henry from his own deal. It wrestles with purpose, morality, and the burden of time in the same thoughtful register.

If Schwab’s language—Addie’s seven freckles like a constellation, the smoky bars of 18th‑century Paris, the hush of a New York bookstore—enchanted you, Morgenstern’s velvet prose will, too. The circus’s magic is as loose and mysterious as Addie’s bargain with Luc: rules are felt more than explained, and romance blooms in candlelight and shadow. You’ll find the same dreamy mood where every page feels like dusk, and love must navigate the constraints of an otherworldly pact.

If Addie’s struggle to define herself when no one remembers her resonated—her name unwritten, her identity stitched through art and the one person who can hold onto her—then Piranesi’s quest will grip you. Wandering an endless House of statues and tides, he must recover who he is and how he came to be there, much as Addie reconstructs a self across centuries and ultimately outwits Luc with a final, carefully worded bargain. It’s intimate, mysterious, and deeply humane.