Books like Bleedthrough and Other Small Horrors

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.

This book's heightened literary consciousness suggests a lifetime of practice, but it is, in fact, Gwendolyn Kiste's debut (she has quickly become one of contemporary dark fiction’s most celebrated, leading figures). Throughout Untether, the author examines both societal and individual forms of suffering (e.g. depression, dissociation, and the dangers of socially imposed normativities). My favorite piece is “Skin Like Honey and Lace,” which depicts a group of women who achieve social induction by taking skin from strangers and applying it to their own bodies. A staggeringly accomplished collection. 

This is an easy-to-read introduction to magic for people who don’t want to join organized groups or participate in spiritual traditions in order to learn. It allows readers to experiment with practices and techniques on their own and includes everything a beginner needs to know about the art and craft of magic, including visualization, ordinary ethics, ritual practices, and vital safety measures.

Wise Women. Ancestral Worship. Charms and rituals: Thank you—to author, performer, and ritual priestess, Luisah Teish—for this reminder that “our foremothers knew things that modern science is still struggling with.”

Originally published in 1985, this eclectic mix of memoir, spiritual teachings, and practices is a delightful and accessible road map to New Orleans Voudou, which, like Jamablaya—“a spicy dish with many fine ingredients cooked together”—blends the practices of African ancestor reverence, Native American earth worship, and European Christian occultism into one tradition.

Reading this book, I find myself pulled into the mysteries of the natural and spiritual worlds, and the centuries-old traditions of the ancestors, whose voices echo through time, guiding us and blending with our own.

An unlikely complement to Huizinga tracing the overlap between magical beliefs in religion as well as astrology and the emerging accusations of witchcraft. Deeply immersed in research about 16th-17th century England, this book offers a form of historical anthropology for baseline views of the strange ideas that drove spiritual life.

My favorite thing about magical realism is that it is often used to discuss social and cultural issues, colonialism, the powerful and elite, environmental issues, racism, war, homophobia, genocide, and more. It can also be used to talk about social issues that are equally as important but maybe not as heavy. That’s why I love Melmoth by Sarah Perry – because magical realism is used to cover a gambit of social and historical issues. 

In the novel, Perry focuses on a mythical figure called Melmoth the Witness who preys upon people in the darkest moments of their lives. Through this mythical figure, Perry discusses everything from Nazi Germany to fear, sins, loneliness, and self-loathing with a magical lens. I loved the grit and darkness of this magical realism story and I know you will too.

This book is another that has a similar vibe to The Dresden Files and my books. This one had a really unique take that I liked, mixing in ghosts with the other supernatural creatures and elements. The main character has some fun, memorable quirks that I enjoyed, and the plot had some great twists that I didn’t see coming. The world is really broad, and there’s a lot more to uncover about how things work, so I liked that it didn’t tell everything in the first book, so it left me with the desire to read more.  

After years of practicing yogic-based meditation and qigong, I felt called to seek out spiritual Earth connection practices from my own European ancestral lineages.

This book stood out to me because it opens a path directly to the deep consciousness of the Earth, through journeys based on Celtic and pre-Celtic symbols. Each exploration has opened new insights and transformations, leaving me feeling a greater attunement with nature and with my own being.

There is a deep-time metaphysics underlying this book, connected to the ancient mysteries yet without the heavy trappings of elaborate outer ritual. This bare-bones simplicity makes the practice accessible in the midst of a full life.