Here are 100 books that Our Monsters fans have personally recommended if you like
Our Monsters.
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I’m a big-time fantasy reader, and I’ve always loved non-human characters in fiction, whether it was The Little Mermaid or Beauty and the Beast. It never sat right with me that the Beast becomes human when I got to understand his vulnerability in monster form; I hated that Ariel wanted boring human legs. I was a romance novel hater for a long time, too, because I thought they were repetitive (and mostly straight). Finding queer indie romance that embraced these monsters and explored what makes them monstrous caused a huge shift in the way I interpret all relationships in literature, and it definitely influenced my choice to write monster romance.
I absolutely loved this quiet, lyrical novella with a sapphic sea monster romance and an underlying paranormal mystery that needs to be solved. The characters were flawed and real to me, and, like the rest of this novella, they were fully fleshed out despite the relatively few pages they have together.
The language is stunning, the pacing is perfect, and the sea monster lady is scaly and incredibly cool. I will be thinking about the impact this book left on me—and the way it proved to me that indie books can be very high quality—for years.
Del needs all the cash she can get, so when someone who claims to be from someplace called The Uncanny Society hires her to look into local disappearances, she takes the job. It brings her to On the Water, a club by the river, where she notices a beautiful woman trying too hard to be overlooked, and who goes out of her way to keep Del from the riverbank.
Saira entered the human world to retrieve the missing Guard of the Northern Gate at the behest of her Eminence, and return to her underwater home as quickly as possible. But…
Magical realism meets the magic of Christmas in this mix of Jewish, New Testament, and Santa stories–all reenacted in an urban psychiatric hospital!
On locked ward 5C4, Josh, a patient with many similarities to Jesus, is hospitalized concurrently with Nick, a patient with many similarities to Santa. The two argue…
I’m a big-time fantasy reader, and I’ve always loved non-human characters in fiction, whether it was The Little Mermaid or Beauty and the Beast. It never sat right with me that the Beast becomes human when I got to understand his vulnerability in monster form; I hated that Ariel wanted boring human legs. I was a romance novel hater for a long time, too, because I thought they were repetitive (and mostly straight). Finding queer indie romance that embraced these monsters and explored what makes them monstrous caused a huge shift in the way I interpret all relationships in literature, and it definitely influenced my choice to write monster romance.
I couldn’t leave out one of my favorite monsters of all time: dragons. Also, I just love secondary-world fantasy, especially the kind that has important themes like the effects of imperialism and that are set in a shifting palace full of magical rooms.
This book beautifully executes one of my favorite relationship dynamics in fiction: the dragon love interest starts out ice cold and very gradually warms up to the main character as they get closer, and they both overcome their past traumas as their romance grows deeper. That’s the good stuff!
I’m a big-time fantasy reader, and I’ve always loved non-human characters in fiction, whether it was The Little Mermaid or Beauty and the Beast. It never sat right with me that the Beast becomes human when I got to understand his vulnerability in monster form; I hated that Ariel wanted boring human legs. I was a romance novel hater for a long time, too, because I thought they were repetitive (and mostly straight). Finding queer indie romance that embraced these monsters and explored what makes them monstrous caused a huge shift in the way I interpret all relationships in literature, and it definitely influenced my choice to write monster romance.
I love, love, love fairy lore, but a lot of books with fairies cut out some of the darker aspects—and this one decidedly leans right into the morbid, deceitful side of fairies.
I adored the setting of the fairy court, and while I don’t always consider fairies to be monstrous, the Fae Queen has unique, see-through, glass anatomy and a decidedly inhuman demeanor that made it all the more satisfying when she started to fall for the human main character. I found the thrill-seeking personality of the main character to be refreshing, and her encounters with the icy queen had strong chemistry (in addition to being super steamy).
Save some of your screams for the queen, there's a good girl...
Janneth Carter has given up on magic these days. She's done being curious, insatiable, dreamy; she just wants to finish her graduate degree and spend the rest of her life as a sensible archeologist. So the last thing she expects when she goes to her dig site on Halloween night is three mysterious strangers standing outside an ancient Scottish grave.
Okay, well the actual last thing she expects is for those strangers to kidnap her and drag her into fairyland.
Stealing technology from parallel Earths was supposed to make Declan rich. Instead, it might destroy everything.
Declan is a self-proclaimed interdimensional interloper, travelling to parallel Earths to retrieve futuristic cutting-edge technology for his employer. It's profitable work, and he doesn't ask questions. But when he befriends an amazing humanoid robot,…
I’m a big-time fantasy reader, and I’ve always loved non-human characters in fiction, whether it was The Little Mermaid or Beauty and the Beast. It never sat right with me that the Beast becomes human when I got to understand his vulnerability in monster form; I hated that Ariel wanted boring human legs. I was a romance novel hater for a long time, too, because I thought they were repetitive (and mostly straight). Finding queer indie romance that embraced these monsters and explored what makes them monstrous caused a huge shift in the way I interpret all relationships in literature, and it definitely influenced my choice to write monster romance.
Count me in any time a book addresses the theme of “What makes a monster a monster?” One of the protagonists is Lord Wraith, a fun concept in itself as she’s an assassin cursed to take a wraith’s form once a month—but it’s really the other, manipulative human character who has a “monstrous” personality.
I already love that dynamic and the questions it poses, and throwing in an enemies-to-lovers angle and an unreliable narrator-induced plot twist over it really seals the deal on my love for this book.
I’ve read this one more than once, and I definitely plan to read it again.
Princess Annara has been plotting revenge on her father for eight years, ever since he exiled her from the Royal Palace of Archon. Now, conveniently, he wants her back in the palace. He hasn’t had a change of heart; instead, he promised her to a powerful foreign assassin in order to pay his debts. To anyone else, the situation might look bleak. To Annara, it’s an opportunity.
If she gets close to Senne, Annara will learn the secrets of the world’s most powerful assassin. But as she gets to know Senne better, her own…
I love books that whisk me away and keep me reading long into the night. There’s something so exciting about realizing you’ve been reading for so long that you have no idea what the time is or if it’s even the same day. I’m also incredibly passionate about horror and what it can teach us about ourselves and our society. Being diagnosed with epilepsy at the age of 12 made me feel isolated and alone, but horror granted me a form of escapism and taught me to embrace what made me feel different, something each of these books does. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did!
This was one of the best books about werewolves—that isn’t really about werewolves—I have ever read. The story is told from the perspective of an unnamed boy who lives with his aunt and uncle—who happen to be werewolves—and the struggles he and his family face while living on the edge of society to avoid discovery.
What fascinated me the most was that Jones created entirely new werewolf lore with its own culture, rituals, and traditions, and it all felt real. I loved the non-linear timeline following the boy from 8 to 16, yearning to change like his aunt and uncle. Jones encapsulated the real difficulties of living on the fringes of society for whatever reason. It’s a dark book, raw and visceral, but also really funny.
A spellbinding and darkly humorous coming-of-age story about an unusual boy, whose family lives on the fringe of society and struggles to survive in a hostile world that shuns and fears them. He was born an outsider, like the rest of his family. Poor yet resilient, he lives in the shadows with his aunt Libby and uncle Darren, folk who stubbornly make their way in a society that does not understand or want them. They are mongrels, mixed blood, neither this nor that. The boy at the center of Mongrels must decide if he belongs on the road with his…
I have always been eager to read weird, speculative, sapphic stories, but they were difficult to find throughout my early life. As a teenager, I started to write them, creating what I hoped to see in the world, and I haven’t stopped since. I’m thrilled to see that this niche is becoming more common and celebrated, particularly in the more experimental short fiction space. As an adult, I’ve had many weird, speculative, sapphic short stories and novelettes published, including one that won the Best of the Net award and two that were shortlisted for Brave New Weird: The Best New Weird Horror.
I found myself surprisingly captivated by this present-day body horror mermaid transformation tale focused on a high school swim team.
This novel follows a gradual decline from an everyday reality towards an increasingly unhinged climax, and I appreciated how slowly this sneaks up on you. Even though the book makes no secret of where it’s ultimately going, I was still pleasantly surprised about how we got there and the weirdness of the ending.
The sapphic relationship between the protagonist and her best friend is a key throughline, with an interesting dichotomy between the best friend’s long-term adoration and the protagonist’s relative detachment and bitterness.
In the vein of The Pisces and The Vegetarian, Chlorine is a debut novel that blurs the line between a literary coming-of-age narrative and a dark unsettling horror tale, told from an adult perspective on the trials and tribulations of growing up in a society that puts pressure on young women and their bodies… a powerful, relevant novel of immigration, sapphic longing, and fierce, defiant becoming.
Ren Yu is a swimmer. Her daily life starts and ends with the pool. Her teammates are her only friends. Her coach is her guiding light. If she swims well enough, she will be…
Nature writer Sharman Apt Russell tells stories of her experiences tracking wildlife—mostly mammals, from mountain lions to pocket mice—near her home in New Mexico, with lessons that hold true across North America. She guides readers through the basics of identifying tracks and signs, revealing a landscape filled with the marks…
From books to television, one of my favorite qualities of good writing is a rich, inter-generational cast of characters, especially ones that feature significant roles for characters young and old. These stories do not span multiple generations; instead, they showcase characters of all ages interacting at one time, which makes for dynamic plots and relationships.
What’s so neat about this book is that it doesn’t just capture a light-hearted and moving glimpse into English academia; it provides glimpses into a man’s—an institution in himself—relationships with his wife, coworkers, and students.
I enjoyed the progression of time. Several generations of students interact with the aging, albeit the same, “Mr. Chips.” There’s something neat about that.
When I think of great novels, I don’t recall plot twists, beautiful language, or exotic settings. I remember the characters. How they met or didn’t meet, the challenges put before them. Great, unforgettable characters create great stories. They take risks, become friends with people society tells them not to, and don’t hide their motivations or fears. They show their humanity. A great character can make walking down a supermarket aisle an exciting adventure. Boring, one-dimensional ones can make a rocket launch seem like you’re reading about paint drying. All the books I discuss hit the character checklist tenfold.
Whether it’s moving onto a new home, job, school, or cellphone, we can all relate to upheaval. Having done much of the latter, I get why young Turner Buckminster doesn’t like Maine much. He sees his life on one trajectory, and now he’s cut adrift on another.
I’m in awe of the way Gary D. Schmidt uses this simple setup to tell a wider story of a friendship that develops between Turner and local black girl Lizzie Bright Griffin that transcends the harsh racism of the times.
The gut punch came when I learned the basis of this book is the true history of Malaga Island, Maine, where an entire village of nearly fifty people was uprooted. Some, like Lizzie, were condemned to life in a mental institution.
It only takes a few hours for Turner Buckminster to start hating Phippsburg, Maine. No one in town will let him forget that he's a minister's son, even if he doesn't act like one. But then he meets Lizzie Bright Griffin, a smart and sassy girl from a poor nearby island community founded by former slaves. Despite his father's-and the town's-disapproval of their friendship, Turner spends time with Lizzie, and it opens up a whole new world to him, filled with the mystery and wonder of Maine's rocky coast. The two soon discover that the…
Having grown up in segregated Knoxville, TN, I've often wondered what having a black friend as a child would have been like. My MFA thesis, in the 1980s, was a novella about just such a friendship. A small group of my (white) MFA classmates insisted that I could not, should not write about black characters. Although I believed them to be mistaken, I put my thesis away and haven’t looked at it since. About ten years ago, I decided to try again. I took an early draft of a new novel to a workshop with John Dufresne, who encouraged me to continue. The result was Beginning with Cannonballs, which received positive reviews and won the 2021 IPPY Silver Medal for Multicultural Fiction.
Given that this novel is set in Mississippi in the 1950s, I was intrigued by the teen-aged friendship at its center. When Cassie, who’s black, and Judith, who’s white, learn that they have the same father, they decide to join forces in claiming their share of the family inheritance. The result is a sometimes perilous and even other-worldly road trip from Mississippi to Virginia, during which the girls’ budding relationship is sorely tested.
A spellbinding debut about half sisters, one black and one white, on a 1950s road trip through the American South
Self-educated and brown-skinned, Cassie works full time in her grandmother’s laundry in rural Mississippi. Illiterate and white, Judith falls for “colored music” and dreams of life as a big city radio star. These teenaged girls are half-sisters. And when they catch wind of their wayward father’s inheritance coming down in Virginia, they hitch their hopes to a road trip together to claim what’s rightly theirs.
In an old junk car, with a frying pan, a ham, and a few dollars…
The Bridge provides a compassionate and well researched window into the worlds of linear and circular thinking. A core pattern to the inner workings of these two thinking styles is revealed, and most importantly, insight into how to cross the distance between them. Some fascinating features emerged such as, circular…
As a kid, I rarely spoke up, and I certainly didn’t think I had much influence. As a young adult, though, I came across true stories of kids who stood up for what they believed in. These kids inspired many of my own books, and now whenever I’m looking for something to read, I look for novels about kids who screw up their courage to speak up for a fairer, more inclusive, richer world.
Everyone expects Fishel “Fish” Rosner to do “boy” things, which doesn’t include his favourite activities of knitting and dancing. I loved watching Fish learn to stand up for himself, and even more, I love how this story invites readers to imagine a world where everyone has the confidence to be themselves, no matter what anyone else thinks. This book kept me grinning long after I finished reading.
Twelve-year-old Fishel (Fish) Rosner doesn’t like regular “boy” things.
He hates sports and would prefer to read or do crafts instead of climbing trees or riding dirt bikes with his friends. He also loves to dance. But all his interests are considered “girly.” Fish doesn’t get why that’s a bad thing. He’s just interested in different things than other boys. When he asks his Bubby to teach him to knit, she tells him to go play outside. When he begs his mom to take him to Zumba, she enrolls him in water polo instead. Why does everyone else get to…
