100 Books Like Pet Sematary

This was one of the strangest, most beautiful books I’ve ever read. At first, the format can throw you off. A chorus of dead voices, snippets of historical and imagined texts? But once I got into the rhythm, it felt like something sacred. The cemetery setting becomes a limbo space where spirits cling to their stories, fears, and unfinished business.

I found myself unexpectedly emotional, especially in how it portrayed grief—Lincoln’s grief, yes, but also the collective grief of the dead. It made me think about what we leave behind and how love can echo even after death. It was haunting in the best way.

I was first introduced to the film adaptation of The Road in my early teens when I went through all five stages of grief in the span of 1 hour and 51 minutes.

I then made a beeline to the bookstore for a copy of McCarthy’s novel, which subsequently solidified my love of end-of-the-world stories in how they can examine what it means to survive.

The Road is a story that has stayed with me over the subsequent decade and a half and greatly influenced my post-apocalyptic novel.

This book is one of my all-time favorites, because even though I knew it was fiction, it felt like nonfiction as I was reading it. It was that authentic, and that alive. I truly felt like I was reading an actual history book about an event from my own world. 

The narrative structure was also amazing, telling the entire story through interviews with survivors of the zombie war, and I was riveted by those stories. They showed me what it was like to face that zombie horror, which made me desperate to know what happened, how they survived, and how they managed. Although I was reading, it felt like I was watching actual people tell their tales.

This book has haunted me for decades. 

So much so that I’ve read it several times since I first encountered it as a teenager. (Plus watched both movie versions, twice each.)

The first line, "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again," drew me in and refused to let go. I wanted to return to Manderley. I wanted to find out what dark secrets would be revealed there. The unnamed, naive young heroine is haunted by the all-pervading presence of her husband’s first wife, Rebecca… and so was I.

And although some of the social attitudes are jarring to a 21st-century reader, and although I know the plot by heart now… I will still return to it.

I was amazed at the subtle way this horror story unfolded and how the evil presence slowly began to reveal itself. It draws you in completely.

When the hunters become the hunted and justice is brought by those who were wronged, it is one of the most satisfying aspects of this book. The masterful way Mr. Graham interwove elements of Native American culture and the power of Nature was beautiful, even in its most horrifying aspects.

The final sequences are truly breathtaking, and the final justice is more than gratifying.

I read this while on vacation, and though it was a wonderful trip, I kept thinking how much I was looking forward to getting back to the hotel room to continue reading.

The protagonist’s all-consuming job working for a tech company made me realize how much I wished I had used social media less. I loved how the book made us see how Mae’s job, at first exciting, took her to places she didn’t want to go.

In today’s online world, the completely interconnected one of this book is a cautionary tale.

This book was a joy to read. A fantasy story in a cemetery that’s both heartfelt and full of life. I loved how it wove Latinx culture and Día de los Muertos traditions into a story about identity, family, and magic.

Yadriel’s journey to prove himself as a brujo felt so personal and empowering. Then there’s Julian, the ghost he accidentally summons and starts to fall for. Their banter, their bond, the way they grow together—it just made my heart ache in a good way. It’s a love story, a ghost story, and a celebration of being seen.

This book, a classic of the atomic age, knocked my socks off rereading it.

While outwardly about a group of marooned boys scrapping for dominance on a remote island, it also resembled my late-seventies, Southern California prep school.

Some kids survived there by physically menacing playground “Piggy’s.” Others, like decent-hearted Jack, appealed for unity, demanding they keep a fire stoked for potential rescue before the savages within all of them aren’t worth saving anymore.

With that conch and bloody glasses, we appreciate mankind’s warring dualities.

Published in 1997, DeBecker offered something no one else I was reading came close to: an explanation of warning signs that precede violence that are so subtle they leave many people with a bad feeling about a situation, for example, with a stranger, but no idea why they feel that way. The temptation then is to override the gut feeling: “What is wrong with me? It’s the middle of the day and this nice man just wants to help me carry my groceries up to my apartment.”

DeBecker himself is a fascinating figure. He grew up with a heroin-addicted mother who waved a gun around frequently and finally shot his stepfather before committing suicide when he was 16. DeBecker learned to rely on small, subtle clues to tell when she was dangerous and when she was not. After her death, he was taken in by Rosemary Clooney, the mother of… show more.

This chart-topping writing duo can do no wrong in my eyes. Their Innkeeper Chronicles series ranks amongst my all-time favorites, but when it comes to fierce female protagonists, their Kate Daniels series truly takes the cake.

I find Kate fascinating. She has a complex backstory (no spoilers here!), and she is a masterful fighter, excelling in both physical combat and magical prowess. She consistently stands up for others, often putting herself in peril to protect those around her. 

I love how her wit and humor shine through, striking the perfect balance between light and shade. 

I will always remember the way she greeted a particular deadly lion shifter with a cheeky “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” For me, Kate Daniels embodies everything a fierce female protagonist should be.