100 Books Like And Her Smile Will Untether the Universe

This book originally consisted of six short collections of novellas and stories, but they’ve since been gathered into a two-volume set, so I’m hoping I can count them as one. They go together, and I think they’re nearly all excellent.

When I was a kid, these stories helped build a bridge for me, from the likes of Stephen King (whom I still adore) to new imaginative worlds of horror that include all kinds of transgressive imagery.

I love how Barker combines the fantastic with the visceral, blurs lines between the monstrous and the human, and makes desire dark, dirty, and wonderful. I also love these stories for all they taught me and helping usher in modern extreme/hardcore horror.

Thomas Ligotti is one of the few writers whose work genuinely, profoundly scares me. His vision is underscored by an all-too-convincing commitment to pessimistic philosophy (which is accessibly detailed in his 2010 book The Conspiracy Against the Human Race). Songs of a Dead Dreamer is haunted by the philosophical outlooks of E. M. Cioran, Arthur Schopenhauer, H. P. Lovecraft, and Edgar Allan Poe, but Ligotti’s fixation on marionettes, dolls, and the illusory nature of human agency is singular and distinctive. This is a masterpiece of existentially disturbing dark literature.   

Kathe Koja changed everything with the release of The Cipher in 1991, emerging as the most exhilarating new voice in American dark fiction since the arrival of Stephen King nearly two decades prior. Her work is characterized by hyper-sensory immersion into complex subjectivities, achieved by an inimitable, modernism-tinged voice. Koja is a master novelist, and it’s a rush to read her style within the more condensed form of short fiction; once you’re finished with Extremities, be sure to pick up her genre-expanding 2020 collection, Velo/Cities.

Scarlett R. Algee’s debut collection is an exemplar of concision, comprised of stories that have been sanded down to their unsettling essences for maximally chilling impact. Bleedthrough deftly navigates the space where beauty and horror intermingle, often boldly upending genre conventions in the process. These pieces are vivid and absorbing, drawing fully realized worlds before exposing the terrible things that lurk on the peripheries.   

The 19th-century Scottish writer George MacDonald is said to be the father of the modern fairy tale, inspiring C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, and many others. I chose The Light Princess because I find it his most charming tale: it's about a princess under a wicked spell who has been made weightless, unable to obey the laws of gravity. As in all good fairy tales, a prince eventually comes along to drag her back down to earth. He must sacrifice himself for her, but in the end, it is she who rescues him – from a feminist perspective, a most gratifying conclusion.

Lewis considered George MacDonald his spiritual father, having never met the man. He said that MacDonald introduced him to the gospel through his stories before he even knew that that’s what was happening. How? Metaphor. George MacDonald knew of God’s love more than most and did his best to share it with the world, deeply hidden in fairy tales, the kind of folklore that Lewis, Tolkien, and the rest of the Inklings loved so dearly.

I just discovered this book and want to teach it in every one of my classes! Folk is a series of stories about the villagers in a tiny, closed-off island filled with strange rituals and a cacophony of alliances and grudges. Her language is simply thrilling, and the fairy tales are shocking in all different ways. We hear a different perspective in each story, so the book results in a fairy tale about how small communities work and what the ‘folk’ in them must do—and believe—in order to get along.  

I wasn’t sure how Cornwell could possibly make a Cinderella retelling fresh and unique, but she did. She roots Nicolette—who her evil stepsisters call Mechanica—deep enough in the classic fairytale that we get all the satisfying beats, but then Cornwell turns them on their head. I love steampunk stories, and Cornwell replaces the Disney-fied animal helpers with mechanical insects and a metal horse fueled by coal and outlawed faery magic. She also addresses some outdated ideas in earlier renditions for a modern twist set in a Victorian-ish time period. Though Nicolette is not the first mechanical Cinderella on the YA bookshelf, Mechanica is not a rip-off of Marissa Meyer’s Cinder. I enjoyed both of them. 

Verlyn Flieger is the doyenne of Tolkien criticism, and this collection sees her at her best.

I’ve often found that her brilliance lies in pointing out what’s been hiding in plain sight–and once you have seen it, your view is forever changed. “But What Did He Really Mean?” and “Politically Incorrect Tolkien” are my favorites, but there are many gems here worth excavating.

This one is personal to me. I found this book when I was 8 and fell in love. Like: I have a tattoo from this book. And, yes, it’s about a princess, the very antithesis of a background player, but hear me out.

The Ordinary Princess takes place in a fantasy world that exists in conversation with the classical Western notion of fairy tales and fairy tale princesses. Except in this one, the evil fairy at the christening gifts the newly born, perfectly princess Amethyst (later called Amy) not with a death sentence, but the proclamation: You shall be ordinary. The twist? Amy loves being ordinary. Wants to be ordinary. Fights for the right to be ordinary, to be herself. It is deceptively moving and lives deep within my soul.