If the way Dunia’s jinn lineage slips into present-day New York—through those torn “slits” between worlds and the ensuing Strangeness—hooked you, you’ll love how The Golem and the Jinni plants Ahmad (a jinni) and Chava (a golem) in 1890s Manhattan. Like Mr. Geronimo hovering inches above the pavement while trying to keep life normal, Ahmad and Chava try to pass amid Little Syria’s coffeehouses and the Lower East Side’s tenements. Their mythic backstories collide with human desires, secrets, and faith, echoing the jinn war’s blend of wonder, peril, and yearning.

You enjoyed how Rushdie let jinn generals and tricksters invade our world—the Strangeness, the lightning-marked descendants of Dunia, Mr. Geronimo’s unwanted levitation—while most people carried on. In American Gods, Shadow falls in with Mr. Wednesday and discovers Old Gods hustling for belief against New Gods of media and tech. Roadside carnivals, the House on the Rock, and coin-flip miracles mirror the sly, street-level magic of the jinn slipping through to Manhattan. It’s that same sense of the epic erupting beneath everyday asphalt.

If the debates between Ibn Rushd (Averroes) and Al-Ghazali—reason versus revelation, and who gets to define truth—fascinated you amid the jinn war, The City & the City turns that tension into a whole metropolis. Inspector Borlú investigates a murder across Besźel and Ul Qoma, twin cities occupying the same space whose citizens must “unsee” each other—or face Breach. It’s a gripping mystery that, like Rushdie’s philosophical set pieces, asks how agreements of faith and habit make worlds as surely as any jinn’s spell.

Rushdie’s Strangeness—people who can’t sleep, gravity-defying gardeners, and rips between realms where jinn stride through—has that heady, dream-suffused feel. In Kafka on the Shore, fish rain from the sky, cats talk, and an ‘entrance stone’ opens passages as elusive as the slits Dunia’s kin exploit. As Kafka and Nakata wander through overlapping realities, you get the same surreal shimmer that made the jinn war feel like a fable spilling into the sidewalk.

If you relished Rushdie’s mischievous jinn—grand ifrits and tricksters whose pranks and battles lampoon philosophers, politicians, and pundits—The Master and Margarita brings that gleeful bite to Soviet Moscow. Woland (the Devil) and his unruly retinue crash literary salons and stage a riotous “black magic” show, skewering pretension much as the jinn war upends New York’s certainties. It’s sharp, funny, and subversive, with the same audacious blend of the miraculous and the satirical you loved in Dunia’s campaign.