100 Books Like Plasmas

Unlike those of Richard Matheson, the stories of Italo Calvino are rarely adapted for stage or screen, his estate holding a heavy hand on the rights (I know—I’ve tried). 

One of my favorite writers, Calvino specializes in eccentric, surreal stories as funny as they are moving.

Cosmicomics is a linked collection, each tale an imaginative fiction about the origins of a scientific idea, from the Big Bang (the narrator lives in a crazily cramped space with his family during the explosion) to evolution (his embarrassing old uncle still lives in the sea and refuses to make the trip to land). These stories combine whimsicality and gravity as few others do.

Speaking of movies, as I’m afraid I often am, it’s not just the novels of Daphne du Maurier (like Rebecca) that have made great films; her short stories have inspired them, too. And they’re weirder and darker than her full-length works.

Don’t Look Now and Other Stories is a recent collection curated by Patrick McGrath, another excellent horror-adjacent author. It features the title story, source of Nicolas Roeg’s famously frightening 1973 film, and “The Birds,” on which Hitchcock based his notoriously gory (for 1963) film.

While the movies are swell, these brief, insidious, and ambiguous tales can make them seem a little lumbering and obvious by comparison.

Despite some people’s fears, watching a lot of TV as a kid was a gateway to reading for me, not a deterrent. Seeing reruns of old horror anthology series and TV movies made me curious about who had written the stories on which the shows were based.

I discovered Richard Matheson, whose works were among the most adapted by The Twilight Zone and others. This collection features some of his classic imaginative tales that also became classic TV, including “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” (pre-Star Trek William Shatner saw a demon on an airplane wing on The Twilight Zone), “Duel” (Dennis Weaver was menaced by a killer truck in Steven Spielberg’s famous 1976 TV movie) and “Prey” (Karen Black fought a demon doll in one of the Trilogy of Terror).

These days, “folk horror” is a popular term for movies like Midsommer and The Witch.

In the early twentieth century, M. R. James is said to have invented this genre and revitalized the ghost story as a form. His memorably unsettling work often involves academics, scholars, and researchers confronting an uncanny, bucolic world.

The most renowned stories in this collection include “Casting the Runes” (a reviewer of an occult book learns an earlier critic died mysteriously), “The Mezzotint” (an upsetting engraving changes each time a curator looks at it), and “Oh Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad” (a professor dubious of the existence of ghosts fatefully finds an ancient whistle on vacation).

This book is a unique spin on the classic assassin story. It follows four women in their 60s, retired from their careers as killers, who are now targeted and trying to survive.

Raybourn’s book is funny and action-packed, but it does incredible work with the characters. It explores a traditionally macho genre from a female perspective, which offers a whole host of new opportunities and insights.   

I found so much to love in this story of found family and hidden magic—an enchanted isle, a guardian wizard and his rabbit familiar, and a young woman with a concealed past, all devoted to one another.

The bonds between the wizard, his adopted daughter, and their rabbit familiar were simply lovely, and the sacrifices they made in their quest to save what magic remains in their world were compelling. Despite trials the characters endure, the story still captured a cozy feel which would make it a fantastic winter read.

Though The Magician’s Daughter stands alone, I’d love a sequel—I didn’t want to leave these enchanting characters behind!

This book has everything I want in a fairy tale novel: an immersive setting, green magic, romance, shape-shifting creatures, and of course, resilience and healing.

Before I read Kell Wood’s debut novel, I had never thought about the long-term consequences Hansel and Gretel surely experienced at the hands of the witch in the gingerbread house, but now I can’t un-see it. Of course, these two people, now young adults, would have some serious (but unique) struggles.

Also, I love it when an author weaves multiple fairy tales and/or folkloric elements into a story, and Woods is fantastic at this!

Again, fiction that is based on facts–but in this novel, the facts take over and engulf the reader in an apocalyptic tornado.

The book has an obsessive quality. Most of it deals with the life of the legendary mathematician John von Neumann, known as the “father of the computer,” who switched from pure mathematics to nuclear destruction, artificial life, and various other games.

Labatut’s admirably well-researched saga explores the inhuman face of science and the demonic aspects of progress “for which there is no cure” (copyright John von Neumann). A technological maelstrom to give Edgar Allan Poe the creeps, the book shows that romantic science has come a long way since Dr. Frankenstein. 

I am a sucker for lifelong friends to lovers with a bit of the taboo, and this book delivered!

Our hero is a sexy hockey player with a dark past, and our heroine is a dancer with an overprotective and controlling family. When, on her wedding day, she learns the jerk she’s being forced to marry has been cheating on her, she runs right into the arms of her childhood crush and friend Jasper, who offers to whisk her away so she can figure out what to do and how to face her parents.

Jasper and Sloane were made for each other from page one, and I loved rooting for them! Add in the delightful small-town vibes, the belonging that comes from being part of an amazing, tight-knit family, and some steamy times, and it’s a recipe for an all-nighter (reading, that is).

Though this story is part of a… show more.

This is my most recent “can’t look away” read. The titular Piglet hits rock bottom and keeps digging after her idea of a perfect life with her fiancé Kit goes up in flames. Lottie Hazell really knows how to do a set piece with constant escalating tension. Every food-related meltdown in Piglet proved more anxiety-inducing than the last, particularly a scene of Piglet frantically trying to bake a croquembouche on the day of her disastrous wedding.

I always appreciate a book that refuses to give the reader breathing room and puts you in the scene with its characters. Piglet’s pages and pages of bad decisions–and the empathy Hazell’s narrative still manages to weave in for her characters–make this a gripping, satisfying read.