Unquiet
Things

I probably should have written this intro before I even began this series on cover artists. Actually, it just occurred to me today that I have written so frequently about book cover artists that I should make a series about it. In fact, now is probably a good time to confess that there is zero foresight or planning or scheduling at all when it comes to these blog posts. I get an idea–I write about it–I hit publish. I don’t have a content calendar or a backlog of posts waiting in the wings. I barely even edit these things!

So let me take a moment to apologize properly for my characteristic lack of foresight. But better late than never, right? Classic Sarah, chronically putting the dramatic reveal before the proper setup. Either way, here we are at last…

There’s a peculiar magic in the way a book cover can beckon to you from across a dusty shop or on a quiet library shelf; its ensorcelling visual siren song ensnares your imagination before you’ve even cracked the spine or read the first page. My obsession with cover art is a many-splendored thing, and as a connoisseur of the gloriously over-the-top, I’ve long been enthralled by these gateways to other worlds, particularly those depicting gothic romances, psychedelic fantasies, and golden age sci-fi. These genres, with their unapologetic embrace of the dramatic and fantastical, speak to the part of me that still believes in mythical monsters and mystical creatures and all manner of ghosts and goblins and ghoulies.

I’ve waxed poetic about many a cover artist in these digital pages: Victor Kalin with his brooding heroines and looming castles, Ted Coconis and his fever dream color palettes, Laurence Schwinger’s mastery of shadow and light. I’ve swooned over Hector Garrido’s penchant for placing impossibly coiffed damsels in the most dire of circumstances, marveled at Ed Emshwiller’s ability to make even the most outlandish alien worlds seem plausible, and lost myself in the transcendent visions of Leo and Diane Dillon. But today we turn our gaze to an artist whose gothic romance covers are a veritable feast for the eyes: the inimitable Vic Prezio.

Before we dive into the delicious depths of Prezio’s gothic oeuvre, I feel compelled to acknowledge the elephant in the room – or perhaps more accurately, the scantily clad pin-up and problematic stereotypes in the room. Yes, Prezio is perhaps best known for his ‘men’s magazine’ art. To which I say: yawn and yikes. Let’s just draw a veil over that particular aspect of his career and instead lose ourselves in the fog-shrouded moors and candlelit corridors of his gothic imaginings.

Vic Prezio’s gothic romance covers are a masterclass in atmospheric tension. His heroines, invariably clad in diaphanous nightgowns that seem to exist in a perpetual state of windswept drama, navigate landscapes that are equal parts allure and menace. Crumbling mansions loom against stormy skies, their windows glowing with an eldritch light that promises secrets best left undiscovered.

But it’s in his depiction of landscapes that Prezio truly shines. His seaside scenes rival the most evocative marine paintings, with jagged cliffs and turbulent waters that echo the emotional storms of his characters. The grounds of his manor houses are studies in cultivated wildness, where manicured lawns give way to tangled woods with shadows deep enough to hide a multitude of secrets.

Prezio’s shadowed midnight streets evoke comparisons to the nocturnes of Whistler or the gaslit avenues of Atkinson Grimshaw. While perhaps not rivaling these masters in technical execution, Prezio captures their spirit, transforming ordinary urban scenes into stages for extraordinary encounters. Gas lamps cast pools of sickly yellow light, barely holding the encroaching fog at bay. Cobblestones gleam with recent rain, reflecting the moon in fractured shards of silver.

[Edit: A commenter inquired as to the provenance of the above artwork, and I think…I may have saved it in my Vic Prezio folder by accident. I am but a human person and I do make mistakes! It’s possible the artist is actually Darrell Greene, but I am not entirely sure about that. My first inclination is to be embarrassed about flagrantly misattributing something, but I guess at least it was just in a blog post and not a published book, ha! At any rate, who has time for embarrassment when there’s a new artist to learn about?! And a big thanks to Steve for catching the error, seriously–thank you. ]

His color palette is a thing of moody beauty. He favors rich, deep hues – midnight blues that seem to swallow light, forest greens that whisper of ancient, untamed wilderness, and crimsons that could be passion or peril, depending on how the light hits them. These dark tones are often punctuated by a single, startling splash of brightness – the heroine’s golden hair, a shaft of moonlight piercing the gloom, or the sickly yellow glow of a ghost light leading unwary travelers astray.

There’s a delicious absurdity to many of Prezio’s compositions, a quality that I find utterly irresistible. On one cover, a ghostly woman outside a crumbling wooden house bathed in a crimson sunset looks as if she’s experiencing a head-scratching, logic-defying transporter malfunction  – she appears to be morphing into a tree, her form blurring with the gnarled branches behind her.

Another cover features a negligee-clad woman transfixed by a zombified hand rising from a marsh. Despite the apparent danger, she’s at a comically safe distance, with ample time to turn and flee, yet she remains rooted to the spot in classic gothic heroine fashion.

In yet another, a woman sits at a bloody piano, looking coquettishly alarmed, as if she’s been interrupted mid-way through a flirty rendition of “Three Blind Mice.” Behind her, a menacing figure glowers from a mirror, creating a delightful juxtaposition of the mundane and the macabre. It’s as if Prezio delighted in pushing the boundaries of the genre, seeing just how far he could stretch credulity before it snapped like an overstretched piece of lacy elastic from a flimsy peignoir.

Yet, for all their melodramatic excess (or perhaps because of it?), there’s something undeniably compelling about these covers. They capture the essence of the gothic romance genre – that delicious frisson of fear and desire, the thrill of the unknown, the promise of passion lurking just beyond the veil of propriety.

In Prezio’s hands, these stock elements become something more than the sum of their parts. They become windows into worlds where every shadow holds a secret, and where what should be perceived as menace and danger becomes, to the right kind of connoisseur, a tantalizing promise. In Prezio’s gothic landscapes, threats don’t just lurk—they beckon, transforming the nightmare into a thrilling invitation to adventure.

At least for us, the readers, if not for the artfully terror-stricken lady on the cover.

So here’s to Vic Prezio, master of the gothic cover, weaver of visual tales that have likely caused many a reader to miss their bus stop, so engrossed were they in the promise of the pages within. May his heroines never run out of breath, may his manor houses never succumb to mundane building codes, and may we all find a little of that gothic magic in our everyday lives, with a luxurious abundance of billowing nightgowns.

Billow on, friends. Billow on.

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As a writer, blogger, and (most importantly) a voracious reader, I’ve long been beguiled by the weird, wonderful threads that stitch seemingly random experiences together. These uncanny echoes, what Carl Jung called synchronicities, are like tiny magic tricks the universe performs for the observant soul. They have been a constant companion in my literary journeys, often leaving me breathless with wonder and pondering the hidden mechanics of our universe.

A recent example, and the thing that actually inspired this blog post, happened just this morning. Within the span of five minutes, I encountered two strikingly similar instances in completely unrelated texts. In Calling a Wolf a Wolf, a book of poetry by Kaveh Akbar, I came across the line, “…hobble back to your hovel like a knight moving in Ls.” The vivid imagery of a chess piece’s movement stuck with me as I set the book aside. Moments later, I picked up Spiritus Mundi, an anthology by contemporary creatives inspired by occult writing prompts. There, in a description of a dream, I read of a bed “hovering, darting over the floor like a chess piece in L-shapes.”

The parallel was unmistakable – two distinct authors, in two entirely different contexts, conjuring the same unusual image of L-shaped movement. What are the odds? And yet, in the world of synchronicities, such occurrences seem to happen with surprising frequency.

These literary echoes aren’t confined to the realm of fiction and poetry. Often, they bridge the gap between the written word and our lived experiences. Just today, I found myself fretting and extremely agitated over the state of our lawn. With Ývan nursing a broken foot and all our attempts at finding temporary lawn maintenance services mysteriously unresponsive, I’ve been anxiously eyeing the growing grass, all too aware of our HOA’s stringent standards and all the judging eyes of the neighborhood.

To take my mind off it for a moment, I randomly opened The Sphinx and the Milky Way: Selections from the Journals of artist Charles Burchfield. To my astonishment, I found him lamenting the very same issue – the pressure to maintain a perfectly manicured lawn in a neighborhood of immaculate yards. He writes of cutting down bunches of weed, plants that he actually deems quite beautiful, “Back of it all was the custom of people to have neat flat lawns–our front yard was a “disgrace,” and, accordingly, I was out with my sickle.” Burchfield’s frustration penned almost 100 years ago in 1925, mirrored my own current predicament with uncanny accuracy.

These synchronicities, while fascinating, often leave us grasping for explanations. Are they merely coincidences, random alignments in the vast tapestry of human experience? Or do they point to something deeper, a hidden order in the universe that occasionally makes itself known through these moments of convergence?

Carl Jung believed these meaningful coincidences were evidence of an acausal connecting principle – a force that links events not through cause and effect, but through meaning and significance. He saw synchronicities as moments when the collective unconscious bubbles up into our conscious awareness, revealing connections that transcend our ordinary understanding of time and space. As a reader and writer, I find Jung’s perspective particularly compelling. Books, after all, are portals to the collective human experience. They allow us to tap into the thoughts, emotions, and observations of countless individuals across time and space. Perhaps it’s not so surprising, then, that as we immerse ourselves in this vast sea of human consciousness, we occasionally encounter currents that align with our own lives in startling ways.

But synchronicities aren’t just curiosities to be marveled at and forgotten. They can serve as powerful tools for self-reflection and personal growth. When we encounter these meaningful coincidences, they often highlight aspects of our lives or psyches that we might otherwise overlook.

For instance, the recurring chess knight imagery I encountered could be seen as an invitation to consider the non-linear paths we sometimes need to take in life. Just as the knight moves in unexpected L-shapes on the chessboard, perhaps there’s an area of my life where an unconventional approach might yield surprising results. Similarly, Burchfield’s lawn-related frustrations resonating with my own current situation might be prompting me to examine my relationship with societal expectations and the pressures of conformity. Am I, like Burchfield, chafing against norms that don’t align with my values or natural inclinations?

Synchronicities can also serve as creative sparks, igniting new ideas and connections in our minds. As a writer, I often find that these moments of convergence become seeds for new blog posts, essays, or poems. They invite us to explore the liminal spaces between different ideas, disciplines, and experiences, often leading to fresh insights and innovative thinking. Frequently, I’ll be working on a piece of writing and suddenly recall a perfect reference or idea that I’ve encountered in my reading. What’s remarkable is that these references often come from sources that seem entirely unrelated to my current work. Yet, they fit seamlessly into the piece I’m crafting, as if they were waiting to be discovered and used in this exact context.

An experience late last year perfectly encapsulates this phenomenon. While preparing for an interview with Adam Rowe about his book on 70s Sci-Fi Art, I was concurrently reading John Koenig’s Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows – a work that, while not directly related to science fiction, explores otherworldly notions and ineffable experiences.

In Koenig’s book, I encountered the concept of “Astrophe” – the feeling of being irrevocably tethered to Earth while longing for the stars, that bittersweet mix of dreaming of other worlds and being constantly pulled back to earthly reality. This concept, emerging from a book ostensibly unrelated to my interview preparation, provided the perfect springboard for a question to Rowe:

“Is there a particular sci-fi artwork you revel in or an artist you admire whose art is so bold and striking that somewhere in your mind, it permanently yanks you right out of Earth’s orbit, perhaps quells that Astrophic yearning?”

This question, born from the collision of Koenig’s philosophical musings and Rowe’s exploration of science fiction art, bridges two seemingly disparate worlds. It invites a deeper reflection on the power of visual art to transport us beyond our earthly confines, even if only in our imagination.

Of course, it’s important to maintain a balanced perspective when it comes to the stuff of synchronicity. While they can be meaningful and insightful, it’s all too easy to fall into the trap of seeing significance in every coincidence. This can lead to magical thinking and a disconnection from reality. The key, I believe, is to remain open to these experiences without becoming obsessed with them or reading too much into every chance alignment.

Cultivating an awareness of synchronicities isn’t some magical talent – it’s a skill we can hone over time. I recall an early exercise in my high school AP English class that, while not synchronicity in the strictest sense, helped attune me to these literary coincidences. Our teacher encouraged us to note down on index cards any instances where we encountered our vocabulary words outside of class. The very evening after this assignment was given, I heard the word ‘surreptitious’ used in a rerun of Roseanne! It was either that or The Simpsons –in any case, it was an unexpected find. This exercise trained me to be more aware of the connections between my academic reading and the wider world.

As readers, we can cultivate a mindset that’s receptive to synchronicities without actively seeking them out. This involves maintaining a wide-ranging reading habit, exposing ourselves to diverse perspectives and ideas. It also means staying present and mindful as we read, allowing ourselves to fully engage with the text and notice connections that might otherwise slip by unnoticed.

Keeping a reading journal can be an excellent way to track and reflect on these synchronistic experiences. By noting down striking passages, recurring themes, or moments when a text seems to speak directly to our current circumstances, we create a record of these meaningful coincidences. Over time, patterns may emerge, offering deeper insights into our own psyches and the themes that resonate most strongly with us.

In my own practice, I’ve found that sharing these synchronicities – whether through public blog posts, private journaling, or conversations with fellow readers– can amplify their impact. Not only does this allow us to gain new perspectives on these experiences, but it also creates a sense of connection with others who have had similar encounters. There’s something deeply affirming about realizing that you’re not alone in experiencing these uncanny moments of convergence, and as we navigate the complex web of our lives, with all its challenges, joys, and mysteries, synchronicities serve as gentle reminders of the interconnectedness of all things. They whisper to us of hidden patterns and unseen connections, inviting us to look beyond the surface of our everyday experiences.

In reflecting on literary synchronicities, I realize that what truly captivates me is not just the phenomenon itself, but the magnetic pull it exerts on my curiosity and imagination. These uncanny convergences of text and life, of disparate books echoing each other across time and space, have held me spellbound for years. Perhaps it’s the thrill of discovery, the feeling of being let in on a cosmic secret each time I stumble upon a meaningful coincidence. Or maybe it’s the way these synchronicities transform the solitary act of reading into something more expansive, connecting me to a vast web of ideas and experiences that extends far beyond the pages in my hands.

There’s a comfort, too, in sensing an underlying order to the seemingly chaotic flow of life and literature. Each synchronicity feels like a gentle reassurance that my voracious reading habit is more than just a personal indulgence – it’s a way of attuning myself to the hidden rhythms of the universe. In exploring these literary convergences, I’m really excavating my own psyche, uncovering the deep-seated need to find meaning and connection in the world around me. And in sharing these experiences, I invite others to join me in this wonder, to see their own reading lives through this lens of magical possibility. After all, isn’t that shared sense of awe and discovery what draws us to literature in the first place?

The decision to pair this introspection on literary synchronicities with the artwork of Remedios Varo feels like a synchronicity in itself – a perfect convergence of text and image that speaks to the mysterious interconnectedness that so captivates me. Varo’s surrealist paintings, with their dreamlike quality and intricate, often impossible machines, beautifully capture the essence of what draws me to these meaningful coincidences. Her works often depict figures engaged in arcane pursuits, surrounded by swirling energies and cosmic symbolism, mirroring how I, as a reader, find myself caught in the eddies of unexpected connections.

The way Varo blends the mundane with the magical – ordinary rooms opening onto vast, starry voids, or domestic objects revealing hidden, otherworldly purposes – echoes my own experiences of finding profound links between everyday reading and life. Her recurring motifs of threads, webs, and intricate patterns visually represent the invisible links that I’m constantly seeking and discovering. In Varo’s world, as in my world of synchronicity-attuned reading, reality is permeable, full of hidden doorways and unexpected connections. Her art reminds me why I’m so drawn to these literary convergences: they reveal that beneath the surface of our ordinary lives lies a realm of wonder and mystery, waiting to be discovered by those with eyes to see. Just as Varo’s paintings invite viewers into a world where the impossible becomes possible, my fascination with literary synchronicities stems from a desire to uncover the magical in the mundane, to find meaning and connection in the vast tapestry of words and experiences that surround us.

So the next time you encounter an uncanny parallel between your books and your life, or between two seemingly unrelated texts, pause for a moment. Savor the shiver of recognition, the sense of wonder that washes over you. Reflect on what this convergence might be highlighting in your life, what invitation it might be extending. And then, by all means, keep reading. For in the vast library of human experience, who knows what synchronicity might be waiting for you on the next page?

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Have you ever stumbled upon a book that defies easy categorization? A story that blends genres in unexpected ways, leaving you both unsettled and strangely satisfied? I recently watched Elizabeth of Reading Wryly talk about the genres that define her taste on her YouTube channel, and it got me thinking about my own preferences and predilections.

Inspired, I decided to delve into my own bookshelf, unearthing a collection of contemporary tales that resonate with my peculiar tastes. These are the subgenres that keep me up all night, narratives that blend the familiar with the fantastical, the scholarly with the spooky, and the artistic with the unsettling. Think academia with a dash of the supernatural, secluded artists haunted by their creations, or media that becomes a chilling conduit for obsession.

These are all fairly contemporary titles, but obviously, stories like “The Yellow Wallpaper” or We Have Always Lived in the Castle, would probably be right at home on some of these lists. So, as always, when I make and share lists like this, if you feel there is something missing, I invite you to make your own! And I imagine it should go without saying, but I will say it anyway: I have indeed read every book on this list. I would never, ever recommend something that I have not experienced myself.

At any rate, see below for the hyper-specific subgenres that keep me turning pages…!

The Academy of Shadows:  Imagine academia’s hallowed halls, cloaked in shadows and secrets, where intellectual pursuits intertwine with the arcane. These narratives tantalize with their blend of scholarly intrigue and subtle (or not so much) supernatural undertones. Bonus points for clique-y cults and catty mean girls.

• The Secret History by Donna Tartt: A murder unfolds at an elite college as a group of classics students delve into ancient Greek rituals, their dark secret binding them together.
• Possession by A.S. Byatt:  Two contemporary scholars uncover a hidden love story between Victorian poets through unearthed letters and journals.
• Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo: A young woman who can see ghosts navigates the occult underbelly of Yale University, where secret societies wield dangerous magic.
• Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas:  At an isolated, prestigious university with a dark secret, a rebellious student uncovers a shocking truth about the school’s true purpose.
• The World Cannot Give by Tara Isabella Burton: A shy new student at an elite boarding school joins a cultish choir group led by a charismatic but dangerous leader.
• The Lightness by Emily Temple: A teenager attends a summer camp where girls attempt to levitate, exploring the boundaries between reality and transcendence.
• The Likeness by Tana French: Detective Cassie Maddox goes undercover as her former alias to lure out a killer whose victim looked eerily like Cassie. This painfully beautiful book is an atypical example of this genre, but I must insist.
• The Cloisters by Katy Hays: A young art researcher at a gothic museum gets caught in a deadly web of ambition and intrigue surrounding a mysterious deck of tarot cards.
• The Tenth Girl by Sara Faring: A young woman seeking refuge from a brutal regime finds herself battling a haunting presence at a remote Argentinian boarding school with a missing student.
• Down A Dark Hall by Lois Duncan: The one that started it all! (For me, anyway!) A skeptical girl at a mysterious boarding school uncovers a dark secret behind her classmates’ newfound talents.

The Perilous Price of Artistic Refuge: Solitude breeds introspection, but in these narratives, it also invites unsettling encounters with the unknown. As artists and writers retreat into seclusion (or, sometimes, secluded retreats with a few other people) they find their creative sanctuaries infiltrated by eerie presences and mysterious occurrences. And murder! While this is not really an ordered list of favorites, “artist goes off to creation in isolation, weird shit ensues” actually IS my favorite!

• The Writing Retreat by Julia Bartz:  A struggling writer competes in a deadly writing challenge at a secluded retreat hosted by a famous horror author.
• Fake Like Me by Barbara Bourland:  A young artist, desperate to recreate her lost work, takes refuge at an isolated retreat shrouded in the mystery of a past artist’s death.
• The Last Word by Taylor Adams: A reclusive woman’s negative online review of a horror author’s work spirals into a terrifying situation as she fears the author might be stalking her.
• Wylding Hall by Elizabeth Hand:  Decades after a British folk band’s lead singer vanishes in a haunted mansion, survivors recount the chilling events in conflicting narratives. BIG TIME FAVORITE!
• The Dark Half by Stephen King: A writer’s pseudonym takes on a life of its own, manifesting as a malevolent doppelgänger bent on revenge.
• Dark Things I Adore by Katie Lattari: A former art student seeks revenge on her manipulative professor thirty years after a dark secret emerged at a secluded art camp
• Green Fuse Burning by Tiffany Morris: A grieving artist confronts her family’s past and the unsettling secrets of a secluded cabin residency in the swamp.
• The Centre by Ayesha Manazir Siddiqi: A discontented translator achieves fluency in a mysterious program, but grapples with the dark secret behind its success.

BONUS: A few films in this vein!

• The Strings: Cut off from the world in a snowy hideaway, a composer’s quest for inspiration turns into a battle against a malevolent force.
• Black Lake: A red scarf, a gift, and a curse. Aarya’s escape to pursue art awakens a terrifying entity – the Churail, a South Asian witch hungering for vengeance.

BONUS BONUS: The soundtracks for both The Strings and Black Lake are fantastically haunting in very different but equally marvelous ways

Media Maledictions: Books, films, music—mundane on the surface, yet in these narratives, they become conduits for obsession, curses, and the macabre. These stories delve into the transformative power of art and media, blurring the boundaries between fiction and reality.

• Experimental Film by Gemma Files:  A former film teacher investigating a lost filmmaker’s chilling work unleashes supernatural forces that threaten her family. ANOTHER BIG FAVORITE!
• Night Film by Marisha Pessl: A journalist investigates the death of a reclusive cult filmmaker’s daughter, uncovering a world of dark rituals and macabre cinema.
• Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia:  A disillusioned sound editor and a washed-up soap star team up with a cult horror director to break a curse tied to a lost film infused with Nazi occultism.
• Schrader’s Chord by Scott Leeds: Estranged from his dead father, a man inherits a record store and cursed vinyl that unleashes a malevolent force from the land of the dead.
• Universal Harvester by John Darnielle: A small-town video store clerk stumbles upon disturbing hidden content on rental tapes, unraveling a sinister mystery.
• The Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte: A  rare book dealer hunts for a legendary text while encountering characters mirroring those from Dumas’s “The Three Musketeers.” You may have seen the film adaptation, The Ninth Gate.
• Ringu by Koji Suzuki: A cursed videotape leads to a journalist’s race against time to uncover its origins and break the deadly cycle before it claims her life.
• The Book of the Most Precious Substance by Sara Gran:  A down-and-out bookseller searches for a legendary sex magic book desired by the wealthy elite on a journey that explores dark desires and occult power.
• Burn the Negative by Josh Winning: A journalist with a dark past as a child star in a cursed horror movie must confront the deadly remake and break the cycle.
• Beholder by Ryan Lasala: A young art handler with the secret power to see the past in reflections gets pulled into a deadly conspiracy involving a supernatural entity and New York’s elite art scene.

BONUS: A few series in this vein…!

• Archive 81: A cryptic trail of damaged tapes leads an archivist to piece together a filmmaker’s descent into the darkness of a hidden cult  
• Deadwax: A vinyl tracker is hired by a rich collector to hunt a legendary rare record that has driven all its former owners mad

Unhinged and Unraveling: Women pushed to the edge, their sanity teetering on the brink, colliding with supernatural (ish) (esque) forces that challenge their perceptions of reality. These narratives delve into the complexities of female identity, power, and the eerie intersections of the mundane and the supernatural–of, if not specifically, supernatural, just weird shit in general.

• Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder: A mother’s transformation into a dog leads to a surreal exploration of identity, motherhood, and the supernatural (and art!)
• Bunny by Mona Awad: A graduate student infiltrates a clique of eccentric classmates, leading to a surreal journey into academia, identity, and bizarre rituals.
• Mona by Pola Oloixarac:  A blunt Latina writer in California gets a chance to escape for a European literary award, but finds herself trapped amidst a pretentious competition, bizarre encounters, and a lingering threat of violence.
• Mother Thing by Ainslie Hogarth: Desperate to escape a cruel mother-in-law’s ghost, a woman resorts to extreme measures to protect her husband and find a surrogate mother figure.
• Mary: An Awakening of Terror by Nat Cassidy: A middle-aged woman returning home confronts repressed memories, disturbing visions, and a resurfacing serial killer.
• Maeve Fly by CJ Leede: Ice princess Maeve embraces her murderous urges after a handsome stranger awakens a darkness within her. Thinks Weetzie Bat x American Psycho/Takashi Miike x Lana del Rey
• Drive Your Plow Over The Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk: A reclusive animal lover in a Polish village becomes an unlikely detective, convinced she knows the truth behind a string of murders the indifferent police are ignoring.
• Earthlings by Sayaka Murata: A woman who copes with a traumatic childhood and societal pressures by clinging to childhood fantasies seeks refuge in the mountains to reconnect with her alien-believing cousin and fulfill their pact to survive.
• Paradise Rot by Jenny Hval: A hyper-sensitive Norwegian biology student navigates a strange, decaying apartment and a possibly unhealthy relationship with her enigmatic roommate.

If you enjoy posts like these or if you have ever enjoyed or been inspired by something I have written, and you would like to support this blog, consider buying the author a coffee?

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The Book of Love by Kelly Link Three schoolmates are returned from the dead and are tasked with finding out why in this marvelously absurd, weirdly beautiful debut novel from Kelly Link, who writes in the strange, dizzy, poetic, just-on-the-verge-of nonsense language of someone trying to describe their dream to you while they are still, in fact, in the middle of the dream. This is an author who writes like no one else today–or ever!– and when I finished the story, I found myself furiously weeping, thinking, take me back. I want to go back. (provided by NetGalley)

Thirst by Marina Yuszczuk. The streets of nineteenth-century Buenos Aires thrum with the throes of transformation as a vampire fleeing from Europe seeks refuge amidst the burgeoning chaos; centuries later, a woman grapples with her own mortality, her mother’s impending death a constant shadow. Through lush, exquisite prose reminiscent of Shirley Jackson and Daphne du Maurier, Yuszczuk navigates themes of fear, loneliness, and the haunting allure of immortality, and as the two women’s lives intertwine, desires ignite, and fate plays out in interesting and unexpected ways. Thirst is a captivating exploration of female agency and the stories that happen in the shadows between life and death–and I thoroughly look forward to exploring this darkness further with this incredible, new-to-me author. (provided by NetGalley)

Incidents Around The House by Josh Malerman is one of the freakiest books I have ever read in my life. I found myself forgetting to breathe as I read it and often realized I was literally crying because it freaked me out so badly. I will give a very, very brief summary. It is written from the POV of a child about a thing in her closet that’s been paying her visits. It wants to be “let inside” her heart. Soon, she begins seeing it in other parts of the home. And then, it is not confined to the walls of the family’s house…and eventually…other people can see it too. It’s a book that reminded me what it was like to be a child, and honestly, I felt being a child was very difficult. The overwhelming thing I recall from ages 3-10 is 100% “what the fuck is even happening right now?” And never knowing what’s next or, worse, what’s expected of me. And that’s freaky. I felt that way every second of my little life, and that made for a nervous, anxious childhood. To be fair, that’s how I feel as an adult, but now I’ve had nearly 50 years of experience acclimating to it. Reading this child’s story took me back to that unsettling place of vast uncertainty; sitting with the echoing reverberations of that anxiety through the lens of a monster/haunted house/demon story/possession story, rendered those feelings doubly alarming. I didn’t actually parse in the end what was happening/what had happened, and that’s fine. That’s perfect, actually. I feel like those alarming feelings of WTFery as a story is amping up are so infrequently sustained throughout the course of a book and all the way through the end– and Malerman has executed it masterfully. Isn’t it funny, though, how those things we fear so dreadfully, eventually become those fascinations that delight us? As a child, I hated never knowing exactly what was going on, and yet, as an adult, that’s the hallmark of some of the most excellent stories for me. (provided by NetGalley)

The Scent Trail by Celia Lyttelton whisks readers away on a sensory odyssey that crisscrosses continents and cultures, driven by her extravagant quest to concoct a signature perfume. Over two indulgent years, Lyttelton flitted through France, Italy, North Africa, India, Turkey, Yemen, and Socotra, cherry-picking ingredients with painstaking precision. The book teases with snippets of her personal journey but predominantly plunges into the intricate alchemy of perfume production, merging time-honored craftsmanship with modern techniques, and immersing readers in the rich tapestry of history and cultural significance behind each component. For a perfume aficionado, this tome is a spellbinding and exquisite delight, yet it remains jaw-droppingly unrelatable. It’s nearly impossible not to harbor an intense hatred towards this almost obscenely privileged woman.

Midnight Feast by Lucy Foley Perched on the precipice of the summer solstice, heiress/influencer/It Girl Francesca Woodland is poised to make certain the whole world knows about her newly renovated, ultra-luxurious resort, where the wealthy escape to get their chakras aligned, fondle energetic, vibe-rich crystals, drink local organic free range gluten-free juices and all sorts of other nonsense that gullible people with more money than sense are into. Her doting architect husband, Owen, is at her to side to ensure everything runs smoothly and continue work on the property. Despite their best efforts to present a perfect facade to the guests and the public, unsettling and disturbing things are happening around the resort. Is it the enigmatic stranger, possibly from Francesca’s past, who is slyly disguised as just another guest, ready to exact vengeance for some mysterious event that occurred 15 years prior? Could it be the villagers who were unhappy that Francesca had begun construction in the woods, taking down trees that were sacred to the community and part of their local legend and lore? Could it be Owen himself, who we soon learn is hiding secrets of his own? Told from multiple perspectives and dual timelines, we read as Detective Walker tries to piece together how the posh resort came to be a smoking ruin, with several dead in the fire. What strangeness happened on that solstice evening, and how does an incident from a decade and a half ago fit into this narrative? There’s not a single character in this story who is not keeping a secret–from the absolutely awful Francesca to her not-quite-what-he-seems husband, from vengeful Bella to the intrepid detective, to the hotel support staff to the villagers to the haunting entities in the woods–everyone here is a bit of a riddle, has an agenda, and fits into the puzzle in different ways. One of Lucy Foley’s finest stories yet.  (provided by NetGalley)

The New Couple in 5B by Lisa Unger Rosie and Chad, cash-strapped newlyweds, inherit a dream apartment in the opulent Windermere. But the glamour fades fast. Haunted by a spectral boy and plagued by the watchful eyes of the unnervingly knowledgeable doorman, Rosie delves into Windermere’s past – a grisly tapestry of deaths, accidents, and a history built on the embers of a burned-down church. The residents, initially welcoming, become threatening ciphers with hidden, possibly occult agendas. Rosie, already a bit of a haunted character herself, begins to lean into the past she’s been running from as she unravels the truth. I enjoyed the story right up until some key things were revealed; I don’t want to say anything potentially spoilery, but for all the supernatural buildup, the motives of the people behind the nefarious shenanigans are terribly, disappointingly mundane. (provided by NetGalley)

The Devil and Mrs. Davenport by Paulette Kennedy Paulette Kennedy’s The Devil and Mrs. Davenport  explores the quiet terrors of 1950s America through the eyes of Loretta Davenport, a young mother whose life spirals into a supernatural mystery. Set in Missouri, 1955, the novel intricately details Loretta’s struggle against societal expectations and her own emerging psychic abilities, which surface following a local girl’s murder. Supported by parapsychologist Dr. Curtis Hansen but opposed by her controlling husband Pete, Loretta’s journey is a riveting tale of self-discovery and empowerment amid haunting messages from the beyond.

The Drowning House by Cherie Priest  Two childhood friends return to their hometown upon hearing of the death of their beloved Mrs. Culpepper. Weirdly, the third of their trio, who had been the one to call and inform them of the old woman’s passing, has now mysteriously disappeared. And an old house has washed up on the beach! The fright is undoubtedly what killed Mrs. Culpepper, but the history of the house wreck and the circumstances surrounding its shocking reappearance is even stranger and scarier. The Drowning House starts strong with a storm-tossed mystery, and the childhood flashbacks add intrigue, weaving a connection between the house and a dark past. However, the characters, despite their history, felt flat, and the suspense didn’t quite hold throughout. I generally really enjoy Cherie Priest’s stories, but this one, even with its unique premise, didn’t work for me.(provided by NetGalley)

Poor Things by Alasdair Gray is a darkly comedic Frankenstein remix that injects irreverence and absurdity into the classic tale. Meet Bella Baxter, a captivating yet unconventional creation with a child’s whimsy, a woman’s wishes, and an absolute wild streak. The narrative unfolds through a dual lens: the pompous Dr. Archibald McCandless and Bella herself, offering a multifaceted exploration of female agency, societal constraints, and the battle for autonomy wherein Gray gleefully skewers Victorian propriety, taking aim at everything from class structures to scientific advancements.

Everybody Knows by Jordan Harper plunges you into the dark underbelly of LA’s glitz, where our morally compromised protagonists, Mae and Chris, find themselves embroiled in a dangerous game. Mae, a fixer for a PR firm, uncovers a scandal involving a high-profile client, while Chris, an ex-cop turned private investigator, gets entangled in a case with connections to a powerful crime syndicate. As they dig deeper, they realize their cases are intertwined, leading them into a labyrinth of corruption and deceit.

Rainbow Black by Maggie Thrash blends a chilling murder mystery with a moving coming-of-age narrative, all set against the backdrop of the 90s Satanic Panic. The novel follows Lacey, whose world is turned upside down when her free-spirited parents are wrongfully accused of satanic ritual abuse involving the children at their home-run daycare. With her parents thrown in jail, Lacey leans on her badass sister Eclair—until Eclair is brutally murdered. Thrust into the foster system, Lacey’s only solace is her friendship with Dylan. After years apart, they reconnect as teenagers, only to face another murder,  forcing them to flee to Canada. Fast forward several years, Lacey and Dylan, now under new identities and thriving in their careers, live in constant fear of being discovered.

The Invisible Hotel by Yeji Y. Ham A slow burn that transcends genre (though it is labeled as horror) The Invisible Hotel gives us glimpses into the surreal dreamscapes of an infinite hotel through the windows of Yewon’s suffocating reality. Yewon’s life is a tapestry woven with family distress: a mother fixated on ancestral bones, a brother stationed near a tense border, and a sister wrestling with her own demons. The cryptic hotel bleeds into her waking hours, forcing her to confront the unspoken traumas that have haunted generations. Yewon’s dreamlike haze can be frustrating to navigate, but I think it amplifies the story’s unsettling undercurrent. This isn’t quite traditional horror, but a queasy, uneasy exploration of grief, and the legacy of war on a family and community, and the fragility of self and identity in the face of these traumas. (provided by NetGalley)

How To Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis offers gentle, compassionate guidance for anyone overwhelmed by the chaos of everyday life, and looking to get a handle on things. Davis’s approach is empathetic, emphasizing self-kindness and practical strategies over perfection. Even if you’re not suffering from severe depression or have an ADHD diagnosis– maybe let’s just say you are easily overwhelmed and sometimes the world feels like it’s all too much–her insights create a nurturing space to redefine your relationship with housekeeping, making it an act of self-care rather than a source of stress.

The Angel of Indian Lake by Stephen Graham Jones I honestly don’t remember much about this final chapter of the Lake Witch trilogy, except holy hell–has ever a character endured more than Jade? I recall thinking more than once that this poor woman is so physically messed up and scarred that I don’t think her body could make it into another book, that would be even more unbelievable than more ghosts and monsters.

Diavola by Jennifer Marie Thorne Anna, a fed-up, burnt-out millennial with nothing left to lose, joins up with her family’s for their annual vacation, this time in the picturesque yet foreboding backdrop of a remote Italian villa.  As eerie nocturnal noises and unsettling local whispers unsettle the family dynamics, Diavola becomes a riveting exploration of loneliness, belonging, and the enduring power of family shittiness, in this ghost story blending dark humor with Gothic intrigue.

The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo Luzia, hiding her identity as a witch, struggles to remain unnoticed while working in a middlingly-grand household. Her quiet life is disrupted when she inadvertently uses her powers in front of her mistress, who thinks she can use this for some kind of social-climbing scheme–which draws the attention of both allies and enemies. As she becomes entangled with the brooding Santángel, a forbidden romance blooms. God, I hate romance. This book was not great.

The Kamogawa Food Detectives by Hisashi Kashiwai Tucked away in a Kyoto backstreet lies the Kamogawa Diner where Koishi and her retired detective father, Nagare, act as “food detectives,” unraveling the mysteries locked within forgotten recipes. With each bite, they conjure memories, mend broken hearts, and unlock the secrets to a happier future. This is a formulaic, but quick, fun read.

The Devil All the Time by Donald Ray Pollock  A parade of grotesques populates this Southern Gothic nightmare: from Willard Russell, a war veteran clinging to twisted faith, to the depraved couple, Carl and Sandy Henderson, who find their thrills in murder. Pollock doesn’t shy away from nastiness; his characters revel in it, leaving a trail of violence and broken lives in their wake. Yet, a strange poetry emerges from the darkness, making this exploration of humanity’s underbelly utterly horrifying and strangely beautiful.

A Better World by Sarah Langan The promise of a utopian escape in a near-future America lures the desperate Farmer-Bowen family to Plymouth Valley, a seemingly idyllic community. Initially snubbed by the townsfolk, the family eventually finds a tenuous “in” and begins to settle, but Linda is profoundly uneasy about her neighbors, the locale, and their traditions. As she delves deeper, unsettling truths about the community’s rituals emerge, leaving the family to question if this “better world” is worth the soul-chilling secrets it harbors or if the chaos of the crumbling world outside might be a preferable nightmare.

The Sleepwalkers by Scarlett Thomas Honeymooning on a storm-battered Greek island, Evelyn and Richard have the most desperately awful, toxic relationship I think I’ve ever encountered. I don’t think I will say more than that.

Water Shall Refuse Them by Lucie McKnight Hardy In the scorching summer of 1976, sixteen-year-old Nif and her family seek solace in a secluded Welsh village following her sister’s tragic drowning. As grief grips their lives, Nif turns to collecting talismans from the sun-starved land, delving into her own form of witchcraft. As they grapple with their loss, the village’s eerie atmosphere and its peculiar inhabitants seem to hold unsettling secrets. Amidst this haunting landscape, she crosses paths with Mally, a mysterious boy with his own secrets to unveil. This is described as Shirley Jackson-esque folk horror, and I would also add if you enjoyed Sarah Moss’s Ghost Wall, you’d probably like this one as well.

While We Were Burning by Sara Koffi Elizabeth’s seemingly perfect life shatters after her best friend’s mysterious death, leaving her floundering and leading her to hire Brianna, a poised and perceptive Black woman, as a personal assistant to help keep her sane and get her shit together. What starts as a professional arrangement evolves into an exploration of power dynamics and societal injustices as both women confront their own secrets and grief.

We Were Never Here by Andrea Bartz Imagine this: your annual bestie trip takes a horrifying turn when a violent incident in Chile leaves you entangled in a deadly cover-up. Sounds familiar? Probably not. Except it is for Emily, the protagonist–this is the second year in a row such a nightmare has unfolded. After fucked-up vacation number two, a distance is growing between Emily and the increasingly volatile Kristen, as Emily begins questioning everything – her memories, her sanity, and the very foundation of their bond.

The Resort by Sarah Goodwin Mila and Ethan, a seemingly perfect couple, find themselves stranded in a deserted, snow-blanketed resort after a wrong turn on their way to Mila’s sister’s wedding celebrations. Mila, desperate to not let her sister down yet again, soon realizes that her absence at the festivities will be the least of her worries, after a night sleeping in a frozen, dilapidated cabin…only to wake up and realize Ethan has disappeared.

Ring Shout by P. Djèlí Clark A nightmarish vision of the Deep South, where the white hooded figures harbor a sinister secret – they’re not just racists, they’re demonic vessels who thrive on hatred, using D.W. Griffith’s infamous film “The Birth of a Nation” to fuel their malevolent agenda. Maryse Boudreaux is a resistance fighter with a magic sword, a foot in the spirit world, and some seriously badass, brave friends, and she is truly unrelenting in her dedication to hunting these monsters and stamping out their wickedness.

Jackal by Erin E. Adams Liz Rocher reluctantly returns to her hometown, only to be ensnared by the sinister disappearance of a young girl in her charge during a wedding celebration. As Liz tears into the dark woods and the town’s unsettling past, she uncovers a harrowing pattern of missing Black girls, casting an eerie shadow over her own childhood memories.

Look in the Mirror by Catherine Steadman Nina, adrift in grief after her father’s passing, inherits a stunning vacation home in the Caribbean. But this windfall comes shrouded in mystery. The house itself, a gleaming glass and marble marvel, whispers secrets of her father’s hidden life. Meanwhile, Maria, a world-trotting nanny lured by the allure of wealth, takes a new position caring for a child in this very same paradise. As Nina peers deeper into her father’s past, and Maria encounters unsettling peculiarities in the opulent home, both women find themselves entangled in a weird and dangerous web of deception and shady business. (provided by NetGalley)

The Wishing Pool and Other Stories by Tananarive Due I was probably crying before I even finished the first page of this eerie collection; Tananarive Due just does that to me. Due’s stories are imbued with a profound sense of humanity, intertwining the supernatural with poignant explorations of loss, love, and the enduring power of hope. The Gracetown and the Nayima sections of the collection bring back locations and characters that readers will recognize from the author’s other works.

GORE-GEOUS by Alex West I already had a huge crush on Alex West from listening in to her discussions with Andrea Subisatti (on whom I also have a major crush–my capacity for crushing on brilliant people is boundless) on the Faculty of Horror podcast. But when I read these words in her recent book, GORE-GEOUS, my love for her grew to probably insane proportions: “Horror is a haven for me when the world feels too obtuse, moronic, or basic.” GORE-GEOUS is a profound exploration where personal essays intersect with film criticism to challenge societal norms of beauty, worth, and acceptance, wherein she adeptly observes, “Having narratives about the function of beauty shoved down our collective throats and having these ideas sold to us through endless products and treatments in a mindfuck.” In these pages, regarding issues of self-perception, self-worth, and internalizing toxic beauty and wellness culture, Alex confronts incredibly personal and also very relatable fears — which is a highly vulnerable and, I think, ultimately, empowering move– and examines it all through a horror movie lens. With raw vulnerability and incisive analysis, she weaves together personal anecdotes, film criticism, and cultural commentary to unpack the harmful messages we receive about beauty and how horror films can serve as a space to challenge these norms. I can’t recommend GORE-GEOUS enough.

Joyland by Stephen King College student Devin Jones seeks solace from heartbreak in a North Carolina amusement park. Aided by a psychic child and haunted by the park’s shadowy corners, Devin delves into Joyland’s dark past. This book had not even been on my radar, but the good people at Bad Books For Bad People had recently discussed it, and I was intrigued. My enjoyment of it was tempered, as it always is as the years go on, by thinking how old Stephen King is and how heartbroken I will be when he dies.

The Hunter by Tana French I love Tana French, but I have found her “Cal Hooper” series to be somewhat forgettable. In this second chapter, we return to the eccentric Irish village of Ardnakelty, where the American ex-cop Cal finds his newfound peace disrupted by the arrival of two outsiders. Johnny Reddy, half-feral teenager Trey’s long-absent father, rolls back into town like he owns the place, along with a stranger. Between them, there seems to be some sort of get-rich-quick scheme, and the rest of the town is soon suckered in on it. It was fine. I have already forgotten most of it

Society of Lies by Lauren Ling Brown When Maya returns to Princeton for her sister’s graduation, a celebratory weekend curdles into chilling suspicion. Naomi, it seems, has been entangled with the alluring yet enigmatic Sterling Club, and the whispers surrounding their exclusive inner circle hint at something far more sinister than scholarly pursuits. Maya’s investigation leads her back to a shadowy exclusive club and a past she desperately tried to bury. Brown weaves a tale of legacy, obsession, and the price of belonging, leaving you to wonder just what lurks beneath the polished veneer of campus life and also maybe glad that you decided on living at home and working part-time while going to community college. It may have taken you ten years but at least your ass didn’t get murdered. (provided by NetGalley)

Mystery Lights by Lena Valencia  is everything I want from a collection of short stories. Imaginative stories written in beautifully straightforward language (I want to say “plain language,” but that’s not quite it, I think what I mean is an “economy of prose” where every word is exactly what it should be, nothing more, nothing less.) Eerie vignettes in the American Southwest, stories with sinister intent, with menacing undercurrents –it’s not outright horror, but it flirts with it, it skirts the edges. A young girl gets separated from her family during a cave tour and doesn’t come back quite herself; a woman attends an influencer retreat along with other zealous obsessives deep in the desert; another woman is chased on a hot day by wild dogs, only to wind up in a creepy stranger’s car. These stories are haunting and uncomfortable, but only just–which is to say that they are definitely both those things, but they are handled so skillfully they almost seem like passing conversation, no big deal. These situations are not tied up with a neat bow, it’s almost as if we get a glimpse into these character’s lives for a moment, perhaps an afternoon or a series of weeks, just enough to become immersed in their strange, uneasy or distressing situations, and then the curtains are closed in our faces, as if the author is saying “well now, that’s all you get.” Well done. I think that’s just as it should be.(provided by NetGalley)

Worry by Alexandra Tanner  Set against the backdrop of Brooklyn’s urban ennui, it follows Jules and Poppy, two sisters mired in their privileged angst and neurotic crises. With its dry wit and supposed insights into modern life, the novel spins tales of aimless scrolling, pet dramas, and familial dysfunction. I felt profoundly disconnected from these sisters’ mundane dramas and longed desperately for a supernatural or speculative element, any sort of intrigue or mystery really, that could elevate the narrative beyond a novel-length AITA post.

Here One Moment by Liane Moriarty A seemingly ordinary domestic flight turns extremely weird when passengers learn the exact time of their deaths from a mysterious woman dubbed “The Death Lady.” As these predictions begin to unfold with disturbing accuracy, six passengers grapple with their own mortality. The story is a comedic exploration (but think delightful grandma humor) that gets into questions about fate, free will, and how we choose to live with the knowledge of our own finitude, while gradually unraveling the mystery surrounding The Death Lady herself. Liane Moriarty’s stories can feel a bit …saccharine at times? Or maybe what I mean to say is tied up too neatly with a bow at the end? But I think of her works as sort of an antidote to stories like Worry with all that hip, trendy millennial malaise– a vibe that is starting to feel really gross and profoundly boring. (provided by NetGalley)

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Calling all darklings, mystics, and fantasists!

Ever get lost in a book that speaks to your deepest curiosities? The Art of the Occult, The Art of Darkness, and The Art of Fantasy are back in stock at Unquiet Things and are ready to ignite your imagination and quench your thirst for the extraordinary!

These visual sourcebooks are brimming with inspiration, whether you crave a guide to the occult, a glimpse into the beauty of darkness, or an escape into fabulous, fantastical realms.

Before they all disappear, grab a signed copy and add a personal touch to your exploration of the unseen! **Shipping within US only.**

𖤓 Want to delve into the beauty of darkness? The Art of Darkness is a visual feast for those who find solace in shadows.

𖤓 Yearning to escape into fantastical realms? The Art of Fantasy is your portal to worlds unseen.

Bonus content! I’m too much of a shy weirdo to ever do any book tours or public book signings or anything like that, so public appearances were not part of my marketing plan for my books. (“Plan.” Ha!) Do you know what I did instead? I made little fantasy outfits for each title. Yep.

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As winter’s grip weakens and the days stretch ever so slightly longer, I haven’t been over here hibernating –  far from it! Instead, nights (and mornings, and a few minutes here and there during workday Team meetings, if I am being honest) have been lit by the flickering glow of my Kindle and the pages of some unforgettable stories. From spine-tingling chills to pulse-pounding thrillers, and speculative fiction that will make your reality wobble at the edges, this reading stack for the past few months has been brimming with treasures that I am, of course, compelled to share.

This, my fellow bookworms, marks the glorious return of Stacked for 2024! So, grab a steaming mug of something fortifying, settle in by your preferred source of illumination, and let’s delve into all the things I have read in January, February, and the first few weeks in March.

 My Husband by Maud Ventura In this slice of life domestic thriller, a woman suspects her husband does not love her as much as she loves him, and punishes him accordingly. I was a cohost over at the Midnight Society Bookclub over on YouTube for this one a few weeks ago, and we get into a more in-depth discussion about it if you want to hear more! Plus I am wearing a very great and cozy cardigan which I think deserves its moment in the spotlight because it is SO good.

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield The ocean floor holds its secrets close, and Leah, returned from the abyss silent and strange, carries them with her whole being.  Miri, adrift in the wreckage of their love, desperately grasps for answers, but the truth might be more monstrous than the silence. This was a shimmeringly unsettling read that drowns you in more questions than answers really; I find those to be my favorite stories.

Mona by Pola Oloixarac Haunted by the specter of her unfinished second novel and the tantalizing possibility of a prestigious literary award, Mona, a Peruvian writer with a penchant for self-invention and self-destructive recklessness, embarks on a journey from sunny Californa to the chilly lakeside of a Swedish literary festival.  Along the way, she encounters a surreal cast of characters, both vibrant and unsettling. (PS horny warning)

Useless Magic by Florence Welch There’s really not much to say about this one, it’s just a beautiful book of song lyrics and poetry. I read a digital version from the library, and I think I missed out on having a physical copy in my hands. There were photographs and loads of beautiful scraps of snippets of imagery, with many pages embellished by William Morris designs and motifs, lots of Pre-Raphaelite paintings and similar things in that vein–even a Vali Myers portrait! Which gave me an idea. If anyone amonst you know a way to get in touch with Florence Welch or her people …I would love to send her copies of all three of my books! Is that a bit cheeky? I don’t know. But I think she would appreciate them.

Midnight on Beacon Street by Emily Ruth Verona In Emily Ruth Verona’s debut novel, the night of October 1993 unfolds into a heart-stopping ordeal of terror. Cool single mom Eleanor leaves her children, Ben and Mira, in the care of anxiety-ridden babysitter Amy. As the night progresses, seemingly innocent activities spiral into a chilling nightmare—unexpected visitors, mysterious calls, and a shocking discovery with young Ben standing in a pool of blood. Drawing inspiration from classic horror films, Verona crafts fun twists,  and keeps readers on edge, but the heart of this thriller is a tale of responsibility to those in our change as well as the profound strength of familial bonds.

The Eyes Are the Best Part by Monica Kim Ji-won’s descent into darkness–fueled by twisted cravings and a simmering rage against a world that’s crumbled around her– is as thrilling as it is disturbing. I questioned my own morals while squirming deliciously in my seat as I devoured this unsettling exploration of family, identity, and monstrous hunger. (via NetGalley)

Love Notes From the Hollow Tree by Jarod K. Anderson  More poetry from the Cryptonaturalist! I mostly really enjoy his musings on the mysterious and extraordinary in the natural world and affirmation of our place in a wild universe through a unique love-lettered lens…although sometimes I do feel it meanders down a schlocky Rupi Kaur path. Still, even if the delivery doesn’t always work for me, I always appreciate the sentiment.

Stay Close by Harlan Coben Suburban facades reveal a festering underbelly where Megan, Ray, and Broome – each burdened by a shadowed past and tangled webs of secrets- find their paths colliding. Soccer moms and psychopaths and hidden depths in seemingly ordinary lives. I think maybe Harlan Coben writes the same story over and over and not only do I keep reading them, I keep watching the Netflix adaptations as well. Somebody, please stop me.

Revelator by Daryl Gregory In the Appalachian backwoods,  a bootlegger named Stella wrestles with the weight of her lineage as she returns home to confront a chilling legacy –an ancient entity called “Ghostdaddy.” This haunting blend of Southern Gothic mystery and simmering family drama was one of the first things I read this year, and I thoroughly enjoyed it! Even as I type these words, I realize how very out of order this list is.

Mothman Apologia by Robert Wood Lynn Dive into the twilight of the Shenandoah Valley with poet Robert Wood Lynn, where the cryptid of legend becomes a poignant symbol of grief, love, and the echoes of loss resonating through a community grappling with addiction and its far-reaching, deeply troubling scars.

The Queen of the Night by Alexander Chee A historical epic with a few operatic twists, more than several dashes of intrigue, and a heroine who sheds identities as often as normal people change their underwear, this book of a farm girl’s journey to Parisian courtesan and iconic opera star somehow took me four months to read. The prose was lush, the protagonist cunning and captivating, and overall I can say that I had a good time with the book, but for some reason I couldn’t sit with it for very long on any single occasion? Was it too intense? I don’t think it was that. I can’t put my finger on it. I’d be curious to hear what you thought of this one, if you read it.

The Husbands by Chandler Baker If you ever felt your blood pressure about to explode after watching The Stepford Wives or any adjacent material, this might be the book for you. In The Husbands, attorney Nora Spangler’s exploration of the seemingly utopian community within an exclusive neighborhood takes a dangerous turn as she delves deeper into a lawsuit that might involve murder while also trying to ingratiate herself into the HOA and buy a home and then finds herself in the midst of the hidden secrets and power struggles. Oh, and of course, she is doing all of this while being a wife and mother and taking care of a home and holding down a full-time job, and all of the ceaseless, thankless struggles that accompany those roles! As Nora unravels the mysteries surrounding the community’s dynamics, she finds herself entangled in other people’s business to a degree she could not have foreseen–and that business turns out to be much more bizarre –and perilous– than she could have possibly anticipated.

Everyone Knows Your Mother Is a Witch by Rivka Galchen If you liked the bleak humor and outsider perspective of Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Loga Tokarczuk, I think you’ll enjoy Everyone Knows Your Mother Is a Witch  where a 17th-century herbalist accused of witchcraft navigates small-town paranoia and the absurd logic of witch trials with a sharp wit and wild wisdom.

Dead Silence by SA Barnes Dr. Ophelia Bray, a psychologist specializing in a space-induced psychosis known as ERS (and who is also burdened by its looming specter in her family history) joins a small crew tasked with a seemingly routine exploration of an abandoned alien planet. However, beneath the mission’s scientific veneer lurks a sinister agenda, and Ophelia soon finds herself entangled in a web of secrets held tight by her motley band of untrustworthy crewmates. As they investigate the mysteries of the derelict planet and its buried civilization, tensions rise, a crew member meets a gruesome end, and Ophelia’s worst nightmare unfolds as she puzzles with whether this is the descent into madness she has long feared or is there something far more sinister at play? Ghost Station was a gripping sci-fi horror adventure much like the author’s previous offering, and what elevated it, in my opinion, was that though it skirted around a burgeoning romantic element, it thankfully did not involve as much of that sort of thing as Dead Silence did. (via NetGalley)

The Main Character by Jaclyn Goldis Rory is gifted with a lavish trip on the Orient Express through Italy, a reward from literary diva Ginevra Ex for her participation in her unorthodox writing process. But there’s a twist – she’s not the only one aboard. Her brother, best friend, even her ex-fiancé – all Ginevra’s guests, all harboring secrets and agendas. Each among the quartet is given drafts of the author’s forthcoming book, for which they were all interviewed extensively, as part of Ginevra’s rituals for fleshing out her “main character.” We experience the trip through each of their perspectives, and as the train rolls along, the intrigue picks up as we realize that even the secrets we thought we were privy to begin to twist in unexpected ways and lead to new revelations. Rory increasingly supects that she is much more than a mere muse to Ginevra and that no one, even those she loves dearest, are being honest with her. I thoroughly enjoyed this thrilling romp filled with history, glamorous travel, and juicy family drama. (via NetGalley)

Everyone Who Can Forgive Me Is Dead by Jenny Hollander There was a lot about this story, as well as the characters and their behaviors, that just didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, but overall, I thought this was a real page-turner of a thriller in what is fast becoming one of my favorite trashy genres, let’s call it “annoyingly successful and attractive 20-somethings perfect lives disrupted by that whoopsie of a decade-old university murder and how you can’t forget/self-medicate/bury/whatever the past.” (via NetGalley)

BTTM FDRS by Ezra Clayton Daniels and Ben Passmore Last year I read Out There Screaming, Jordan Peele’s anthology of Black horror, and while I really loved most every story included, my favorite was by a writer named Ezra Clayton Daniels. I forget what the particular story was called, but there was a man who was visiting his family, and some shit quietly started to happen. I know that’s not a great description, but I can barely remember the details of a story I read yesterday, let alone six months ago. Anyhow, I wanted to find some more things this author has had a hand in, and that’s how I found BTTM FDRS, a gross, grisly, but also funny and goofy, and at times poignant graphic novel about an urban haunting but also gentrification, hip hop, and cultural appropriation.

Leave the World Behind by Rumaan Alam A weekend getaway for Amanda and Clay’s family curdles into a nightmare when Ruth and G.H., the owners of the luxurious rental, return with news of an unseen apocalypse. Huddled in the opulent yet isolating house, the lines between host and guest, privilege and precarity, blur as fear simmers and tensions fester. Crackling with tension and a suffocating atmosphere, where the unknown outside isn’t the only threat, we confront uncomfortable truths about power, class, and the fragility of our constructed realities.

How to Restore a Timeline: On Violence and Memory by Peter Counter Peter Counter’s world shatters on a Costa Rican pier, his father’s blood staining a family vacation, and his own memory fracturing. Trauma becomes a kaleidoscope, where pop culture fragments mingle with the shrapnel of personal tragedy and, in some instances, rend the very fabric of time. “How to Restore a Timeline” is a gut punch of a memoir and not always a comfortable read, but I always thoroughly enjoy Peter Counter’s excellent writing on pop culture and horror and the parallels he draws or connections he makes between those things, and trauma and grief, or social issues, and or philosophical notions—these tangled musings are very much my cup of tea. Even so, I did not expect to find a chapter about Dragonball Z, an anime series I have literally not seen a single episode of, as poignant and inspiring as I did. That’s the hallmark of an incredible writer, I think. To make you give a shit about things you previously never spent a single second thinking about.

Everyone Is Watching by Heather Gudenkauf   Five contestants have received a mysterious email and an invitation to compete on the new game show, One Lucky Winner (think Big Brother meets Squid Game, but the contestants don’t know that yet!) The Best Friend. The Confidante. The Senator. The Boyfriend.The Exec. This seemingly randomly chosen quintet will compete for a prize of $10 million after a series of challenges–live-streamed to millions and millions of viewers around the world. Gathered together at a secluded estate in Northern California, the five embark on a series of challenges that test their fortitude and capabilities, both mental and physical–and in the course of these battles of wits and prowess, it soon becomes clear who among them is willing to be ruthless, even murderous, and that for all of them perhaps–it’s a fight for their lives. But who is the mastermind behind the show, what are their motivations, and to what end is this game being played out? The dramatic reality show element, along with the complex character dynamics, made for a riveting, fast-paced mystery that I couldn’t put down. (via NetGalley)

Penance by Eliza Clark In Penance, we descend with ghoulishly unscrupulous journalist Alec Z. Carelli into a Yorkshire town scarred by the immolation of Joan Wilson, a monstrous act perpetrated by her classmates.  A decade later, he unearths the story: witness accounts, broken families, and chilling exchanges with the perpetrators. Clark dissects dark truths about gender, class, and power, and the relationship between truth and the media’s true-crime obsession. As compulsively readable as it is horrific, what I find even more fascinating is how Penance explores the digital age’s grip on these teens, the online pressures shaping their lives, and blurring their real selves with their projected online personas. A chilling reflection of our hyper-connected world, “Penance” forces us to confront the dark intersection of real crimes and the digital shadows they cast. Readers who tend to skip long passages of extraneous-feeling information, take note–there’s a lot of journalistic diving into the history and lore of the town, socially and geographically, that might trigger your “ok, we’re done here” page-turning finger.

The Mobius Strip Club of Grief by Bianca Stone is a collection, and I am being lazy by taking this straight from the Amazon description, which “takes place in a burlesque purgatory,” a sort of labyrinthine underworld where the poet confronts and investigates complicated family relationships “in the hopes of breaking the never-ending cycle of grief.” It’s a clever idea that works sometimes until it doesn’t; it feels more like a creative concept that’s getting old, but the poet committed to it, so they are gritting their teeth and powering through. I found the poems that didn’t hew so closely to the strip club idea were the ones that affected me most profoundly.

Pet by Catherine Chidgey  Justine, like everyone else in her class at school in 1980’s New Zealand, loves their glamorous new teacher Ms Price, with each and every one of them longing to be class pet.  A 12-year-old girl who is dealing with epilepsy, mourning the relatively recent death of her mother, and trying desperately to fit in and be liked, Justine is particularly susceptible to Ms. Price’s charms.  But something…isn’t quite right, and everyone’s favorite teacher isn’t quite what she appears to be. Everything about this book–Justine’s coming-of-age story, her flashbacks as an adult, the oppressive atmosphere of manipulation and corrupted power –is just told so perfectly. The ending might have been wrapped up a little too neatly, but as I say all the time, if I’ve had a good time with a book, I can overlook a misstep with the ending.

The Gathering by CJ Tudor: I already hit “publish” on this blog post and realized I didn’t mention The Gathering, which was definitely an oversight because I actually really liked it! A detective is sent on an assignment up in Alaska to investigate a murder that possibly (probably) is vampire-related. In the world of this story, vampires are a part of society…which doesn’t mean that humans like them or accept them, but they are there to stay. And, of course, this causes a lot of tension. If you enjoyed this latest season four of True Detective, I imagine you will like the frozen isolation of this small-town supernatural murder mystery. (via Netgalley)

If you enjoy these bookish musings, or if you have ever enjoyed or been inspired by something I have written, and you would like to support this blog, consider buying the author a coffee?

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It’s possible that Laurence Schwinger is one of those artists you know but don’t know that you know. At least that much was true for me.

His artistic fingerprint adorns countless book covers, beckoning readers into the captivating worlds within. If you’ve delved into the realms created by David Eddings or Andre Norton, you’ve likely encountered Schwinger’s visual magic. To a lesser extent, if you’ve read a bit of Anne Rice, Marion Zimmer Bradley (not a stellar example considering what we know now, but we’re familiar with the name, which is my point), or Alan Garner, you’re probably familiar with his art, as well.

Particularly thrilling to me: a glance at his online portfolio reveals an intriguing array of works, including a tantalizing glimpse at a cover for Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wind At The Door--though I am uncertain as to whether that imagery ever found its way to the public eye by way of the publisher. But as I think you know, we’re big fans of a Madeleine L’Engle book cover around these parts!

A jolt of recognition shot through me as I discovered Laurence Schwinger’s art had been gracing my shelves all along – he was the artist behind the haunting cover of Octavia Butler’s Kindred – a story I’d cherished for years. I felt an absolute need to secure the cover art for The Art of Fantasy, then in the works. Permission from the artist – essential. And miraculously–secured! About the piece I wrote:

“From phantasmal spectres to mythic beings to epic adventures, the intriguing portfolio of Laurence Schwinger includes fantastical fodder across many genres, and his book cover roster is a masterful Who’s Who of beloved contemporary fantasy authors. Many of the artist’s visions have a multi-layered, hazy atmosphere and a gorgeously subdued color palette, and his cover art for pre-eminent twentieth-century science fiction and fantasy writer Octavia E. Butler takes that a step further. In this earth- and flesh-toned moody, evocative conjuration of the author’s most popular and enduring work, our eyes are drawn to the two figures – each drawn to the other through time – with the negative space between them cleverly forming the top half of an hourglass.”

Schwinger’s artistic odyssey transcends the boundaries of genre, forging a path that traverses the rugged landscapes of Westerns, the tender realm of romance, the cosmic expanse of sci-fi, and the eerie domain of horror. This journey demonstrates his remarkable versatility and shape-shifting ability to adapt, seamlessly integrating his visual language into diverse narratives by various authors.

The contrasting nature of his style further enhances the mystique – from the gilded intricacies that grace fantastical epics to the haunting, foggy washes that veil tales of the eerie unknown, Schwinger’s art refuses to be confined. I mean…the guy also likes to paint a beautiful, glossy pepper! So many multitudes!

Here are a few more works below that I particularly enjoy…

If you enjoy these artsy-fartsy musings, or if you have ever enjoyed or been inspired by something I have written, and you would like to support this blog, consider buying the author a coffee?

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I did a thing this weekend! Elizabeth of Reading Wryly invited me to be a cohost along with Ashley of Ashley’s Little Library for a discussion of The Midnight Society Book Club’s pick this month, My Husband.

This was to be a live-streaming event that I agreed to several months ago on one of those days when I was having an “outside your comfort zone is where the magic happens!” pep talk with myself…and then I proceeded to approach each day with increasing dread as the date loomed ever closer. As we anxiety-riddled folk tend to do.

Last night was the night and I was terrified and forgot half of the points I wanted to make– but the good thing is, I remembered the other half of the things I wanted to say. And I had a really good time!

If you enjoy peeks at the weird interior lives of unhinged characters and quotidian domestic drama, you may be interested in giving this one a read, and listening in to our chat! Tune in here.

This morning I came across this sentiment on Instagram via Yumi Sakugawa’s account and it resonated. I said I was going to do a thing, so I committed to doing the thing. Even if it went terribly (which of course it did not), I did what I said I would do. I did the thing. I did the scary thing.

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The Art of Fantasy now has a Korean-language edition! So this was actually a crowd-funded project, I guess? It looks as if all three of my books were crowd-funded by this particular Korean publisher. That’s wild!

I probably wouldn’t be so ridiculously excited to receive these foreign language editions of my books if I hadn’t had to fight so hard for the publisher to send them to me. It still feels quite novel and thrilling!
Ah, that’s silly. I’d be excited regardless.

I love this About the Author translation: “S. Elizabeth is a writer and curator who pursues decorative beauty. Her essays and interviews on esoteric art are published in [a whole bunch of stuff] …and her shaman culture blog ‘Anxious’, which covers music, fashion, horror, nostalgia, sadness, etc…”

My blog ‘ANXIOUS’. I have never felt so seen.

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I’m coming to the realization that it is the act of *reading* that I love, not so much having/retaining the physical book in my possession. Is anyone else coming around to feeling that way?

This may be due to the fact that in the past two years, I have moved almost exclusively to reading on devices because my eyes can’t see the printed page very well in an actual physical book. And this is even after I got my new glasses prescription! So, most of the things I have read are ebooks from the library and digital ARCS from Netgalley.

I have got so many books on my shelves that I will never read again, and they are just taking up space and gathering dust. And if we move house again, I’ll be damned if I am packing up and hauling around 60 boxes of books that are no longer doing me any good! Not gonna happen!

And so, I am downsizing my library, and I have opened up a little bookshop over on Pango. I’m not over here trying to make a living with it, and I am not deluding myself that there is much money to be made, but I imagine I’ve got some gently used titles that people wouldn’t mind having in their collections at a pretty discounted price, so why not!  So, if you follow my book reviews and recommendations and would like to get your hands on some of those books, have a peek at my shelves over on Pango. Any and all of these titles could be yours! I am continually adding more every day, so make sure to follow my shop and check back often.

PSSSST…I am currently offering 10% off on all orders because I accidentally activated the discount while I was tooling around, so take advantage of it while it is available!

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