Listen, I know you’re a sensible person. You live in the real world. You read books about real people doing real things. You reject escapism in all of its forms. Tales of malaise, heartbreak, middle-aged angst? All great. Is there suffering? Is a recession involved? Even better. You’ve put away childish things: “Harry Potter” is for kids, “Twilight” is for teenagers and “Game of Thrones” is for people who can’t be bothered with the War of the Roses unless it includes dragons.

I don’t agree with you, but I hear you and I’m going to meet you where you are. I won’t try to sell you on sexy faeries or sagas of wizards and orcs that stretch across 12 books. There will be no traveling bands of companions with complementary skills on this list; hot bounty hunters boning vampire lords need not apply.

But there will be magic. Just a little. Enough to push us past the literary safe space of magical realism and into fantasy, but not enough to send you running for more grounded ground.