The Silmarillion — J.R.R. Tolkien
Tolkien didn't just write a myth, he created one. The Silmarillion is the kind of book that makes you reconsider everything you thought you understood about Tolkien's world. It delves into the myth-building of Tolkien's world: from the music of the Ainur, the creation of Arda, and the coming of the Elves and Men, through the long and arduous wars with Morgoth and eventually Sauron, to how the Silmarils and the Rings of Power came to be. It was such rich and detailed world-building. It's amazing how all this creative, imaginative world was built by Tolkien, considering the years it must've taken him. It widened my understanding of the Tolkien legendarium and let me appreciate The Lord of the Rings, and even The Hobbit, on a deeper level. The Old English was hard, and sometimes I had to backtrack and re-read paragraphs, though that's not a detriment, and not the author's fault. Language has just evolved differently since. After this, I want to go back and re-read The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit again, and it will now be a far richer read than ever before.
The Elsewhere Express — Samantha Sotto Yambao
Magic realism and I have a love-hate relationship — it's a hit or miss, and unfortunately, this one is a miss. The Elsewhere Express follows characters aboard a train composed and run entirely by thoughts, tasked with finding their compartments and eventually tracking down a stowaway. The world-building is genuinely creative and imaginative, and I found one small moment of connection in the almost-blind experience of a character, which hit differently given my limited eyesight. The story, however, is so front-loaded with world-building that character purpose and story progression get completely lost. Halfway through, I still wasn't sure what the characters were trying to do or why, and the train itself was visually impossible to picture: how do you imagine a compartment or a room made of thoughts or emotions? Since I tend to visualize in the character's perspective when I read, not being able to picture the surroundings left me lost. The author has an amazing imagination, and she's never failed me before, but this one had me trudging through from February to months later. I almost DNF'd, and the ending left me with only a vague idea of how it concluded.
Witch Hat Atelier (Vol. 1–5) — Kamome Shirahama
Witch Hat Atelier tells an amazing story partnered with some of the most gorgeous art I've seen in manga — the kind of series that makes you want to slow down and just look. Coco is an ordinary girl passionate about magic but born without it, until she accidentally witnesses that magic isn't cast through incantation, but drawn. One forbidden mistake later, she finds herself apprenticed to a witch named Qifrey, racing to save her mother while uncovering a world far more dangerous than she imagined. We see Coco navigating the wonders and terror of magic while building meaningful friendships with the other apprentices in Qifrey's atelier. What I love most is that magical ability isn't something you're born with — it's learned, practiced, drawn with your own hand — and that makes every spell feel creative and alive. The series also quietly wrestles with the tension between innovation and strict tradition, and it gives both sides room to breathe. Nothing worth noting through these first five volumes — the series itself gives me nothing to complain about, only the price tag does. Volume 5 ended on a cliffhanger that has me genuinely restless, and I think that's the highest compliment I can give: I'm not just curious about what happens next — I'm invested.