Books like Dear Mothman

This middle-grade horror novel follows Corinne, a courageous girl who isn’t afraid to go into the forest she’s been warned about, but when she does, something evil follows her back out.

The jumbies of Caribbean folklore are malevolent tricksters, and there is one image from this book that I will never, ever get out of my head. I’m not going to tell you what it is! But it’s toward the end and has to do with the douens and backward feet. It’s a great spooky read, but I really love how the heart of the story is rooted in loss, memory, and trying to save a parent. And not for nothing, it’ll make you crave oranges! 

When I think about magical books that talk about real-world stuff, my first thought is this incredible retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses that examines (through a magical lens) the toll of parental alcoholism.

Four sisters all have different ways of coping with the dysfunction caused by their mother’s alcoholism, but together they escape into magical worlds through their house’s closets. The youngest sister, Silly, has been left out for a long time, but she makes their magic stronger once her sisters finally let her join them.

The metaphors are so rich here—the escapism, the secrets and shadows hidden in family closets, and the seemingly perfect but oblivious dad—that this story goes beyond fairytale and becomes personal myth. I love it so much. It’s gorgeous.

The first half of the book takes place in Minnesota, and the second half is in a fairy tale world peopled by Hans Christian Anderson characters.

It’s a jarring reading experience, probably similar to how Hazel (our main character) feels when her best friend Jack seemingly doesn’t want to be friends with her anymore. When Jack follows a strange ice woman into the forest and disappears, Hazel goes after him to bring him back.

As magical as this book is, Jack’s disappearance and Hazel’s pursuit have real-world consequences, and this blurring of fairy tale and friendship is one of the best I’ve ever read. It touches on divorce, parents with mental illness, and how friendships evolve as we grow up. It’s so good.

My favorite thing about this book is the way Liberty creates her own constellations, called star maps, out of the sky. She finds stories and meaning in them and charts them herself.

This love for space is something she shares with her dad, who is deeply depressed, and who has recently moved out. When she witnesses a meteorite fall to earth, she lugs it back to her room and begins to talk to it. Is it really a meteorite? Does it talk back? Is Liberty depressed too? The uncertainty deftly reflects the confusion Liberty feels about her parents’ divorce. 

Full disclosure, I narrated this one (which is how I was introduced to it), and I had to pause my recording lots of times to get through it without crying. 

Yes, I'm recommending the same author and another book in the series but I had to. I have a thing for badass female vampires. This book gave me just that. Anne Rice is by far my greatest writer when it comes to vampires. The way she describes things puts you inside the character's minds and the way they feel. It’s seductive and spicy. Another book part of a series that will have you wanting more. Love, horror, and suspense. Again this is another book that had me feeling emotional. I even caught myself yelling at the characters (as if they could hear me). Outstanding book and series altogether and I highly recommend it. Rest in peace Anne Rice, you are truly missed.

While many readers would cite John Keel’s The Mothman Prophecies as the definitive account of the late ‘60s cryptid sightings in West Virginia, I have a strong preference for Wamsley’s books on the subject. He has reprinted vintage newspaper articles (yes, Mothman sightings were the subject of mainstream local news articles back in the day). He also publishes transcripts of his interviews with witnesses, and photographs of these witnesses. You get to see them and read their accounts, in their own words. They sound credible.

He also makes sure to reprint news articles that offer natural explanations for the sightings. (Was the Mothman just an oversized bird, the sandhill crane? A giant owl? Experimental weather balloons released by a high school science club?) 

Good stuff!

Nobody has done more than Stryker to document the modern history of trans people or to fashion trans studies into an academic field. Transgender History is a work of substantial scholarship and also an accessible introduction to the field and the issues on which it’s centered. Each chapter of this short-ish book is really valuable, whether it’s the opening that explains important terms and concepts or the final one assessing what Time declared the “transgender tipping point” in 2014. Stryker is a historian of twentieth-century America, so that’s the focus of her central chapter documenting a century of trans history. Understanding that early history is crucial for the liberatory gains and backlashes that follow, and Transgender History concludes with resources that can help turn its readers into informed and committed activists.

I have always thought that we desperately need to hear from transmen and transwomen to help distinguish the effects of biological sex from those of cultural gender conditioning—more specifically, to illuminate both the influence of our respective high levels of estrogen or testosterone) and, in a word, sexism. Using interviews with transmen, Schilt very much does the latter. Consider this book a thorough precursor (2010) to the much-publicized experiences of Martin and Nicole (Google it); Martin concludes, about his experience being treated as Nicole, "It sucked." Indeed. (And the surprise experienced by so many transmen at their post-trans experiences supports the view that most women have no idea how easy men have it.)

KB Brookins’ book is one of the most dynamic memoirs I’ve read in a long time.

Brookins describes a coming of age at the intersection of multiple overlapping—and at times conflicting—identities: as transgender and nonbinary, as a Black American, as a Texan, as an adoptee raised in a religious household, and many more. Their story of navigating a complicated, and at times painful, childhood and adolescence to grow into the accomplished writer, poet, and artist they are will resonate with anyone who has ever felt like they don’t belong.

A critical component of the gender equality booklist is trans rights, which is why I recommend this autobiography. I hesitate to say too much about it—because I just think the best thing to do is dive in and read this for yourself. I will say that the words Chloe chooses and the way she talks about her own transition—it was surprising, and heartbreaking, and insightful, and beautiful—all at the same time.

Chloe has also become a friend of mine, and I can say that she is every bit as tenacious and lovable in person as she is on the page. I often give this book as a gift to people who are thinking of, in the middle of, or are supporting a loved one through a gender transition.