Here are 100 books that The Call is Coming from Inside the House fans have personally recommended if you like
The Call is Coming from Inside the House.
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I’m fascinated by the intersection of mental health and horror specifically because of how the two seem (to me) to speak to one another. Both mental health and horror are confronted best by shining a light on them, by addressing them fully, personally. Horror makes intangible things tangible, I think, for the average person; and for those of us who struggle or have struggled with our mental health, it gives us the tools to detail the experience for others, to, hopefully, elicit understanding if not empathy.
This book, about a young recluse losing grip on reality, unable to discern truth from her own memory, had me hooked. I found the writing vicious and fierce, the imagery haunting, and the overall focus on memory and trauma as horrors that can both shape and betray us distressing in the very best of ways. Memory and one’s sense of self are important to my own work, and as such, this book managed to tap into some personal unease.
That it’s also so sharply written (and wonderfully f*cked-up) is the icing on an already delicious narrative cake. Recommended for those who like their horror to mess with their sense of reality—personal and not. My favorite read of 2023.
WINNER OF THE 2023 KOBO EMERGING WRITER PRIZE FOR LITERARY FICTION
A GLOBE AND MAIL BEST BOOK OF 2022
49TH STREET EDITOR'S PICK FOR SEPTEMBER 2022
A reclamation of
female rage and a horrifyingly deformed Bildungsroman.
Frances is quiet and reclusive,
so much so that her upstairs roommates sometimes forget she exists. Isolated in
the basement, and on the brink of graduating from university, Frances herself
starts to question the realities of her own existence. She can't remember there
being a lock on the door at the top of the basement stairs-and yet, when she
turns the knob, the door…
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 studied psychology in college and am fascinated with the human mind. The psyche holds so many joys, wonders, and the deepest horrors imaginable, all compact and functioning within our skulls. My love for psychology grew into the horror realm, where I read and watched anything revolving around the character study of an individual driven to the brink. Now, I write stories about the morality of actions taken by those who have found themselves in a peculiar position. I believe there is more to the clean-cut view of right versus wrong regarding the decision-making of one’s self-preservation.
This book stressed me out. What starts as the tale of a married couple dealing with a death in the family devolves into something chaotic. I couldn’t stop reading because I was desperate to see where this downward spiral would take me next.
I resonated deeply with the main character and her quest to be so perfect that it drove her to the brink. I, too, sometimes focus on perfectionism so hard that I feel the subtle whisper of insanity. I love it when stories relate to the darker thoughts we keep hidden inside.
'A gruesome, blackly funny, utterly original feminist horror story' New York Times, Notable Book of the Year
'A buzz-worthy and ferocious horror comedy from one of the genre's most promising voices' Buzzfeed
Abby Lamb has done it. She's found the Great Good in her husband, Ralph, and together they will start a family and put all the darkness in her childhood to rest. But then the Lambs move in with Ralph's mother, Laura, whose depression has made it impossible for her to live on her own. She's venomous and cruel, especially to Abby, who has a complicated understanding of motherhood…
I’m fascinated by the intersection of mental health and horror specifically because of how the two seem (to me) to speak to one another. Both mental health and horror are confronted best by shining a light on them, by addressing them fully, personally. Horror makes intangible things tangible, I think, for the average person; and for those of us who struggle or have struggled with our mental health, it gives us the tools to detail the experience for others, to, hopefully, elicit understanding if not empathy.
In my own work, as is likely obvious, mental health is a huge focus. I’m someone with a history of depression, anxiety, and anorexia. That middle element here, anxiety, is something I’ve seen written about a great deal, but rarely have I experienced it as profoundly as I did in this book.
When Alice starts losing control of her reality when her spiral begins in earnest… It was like reading what a panic attack feels like. And I mean that as the highest of compliments. I think this might make this read a difficult pill for some to swallow, but I was left in awe of Elliott’s skill.
The book is captivating in its own right, the story (and story within the story) entertaining and engaging, but this personal connection to the feel of it all has cemented it in my brain.
'Mesmeric, intoxicatingly original' Hannah Kent, bestselling author of Burial Rites
'Haunting and surreal... With its sharp wit and beautiful writing, this book had me flying through the pages.' Ana Reyes, New York Times bestselling author of The House in the Pines
'A towering achievement, stunningly good storytelling.' Melissa Lucashenko, Miles Franklin Award winning author of Too Much Lip
On the surface, Alice is exactly where she should be in life: she's just given birth to a beautiful baby girl; her ever-charming husband - an academic whose area of study is conveniently her own Mohawk…
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 fascinated by the intersection of mental health and horror specifically because of how the two seem (to me) to speak to one another. Both mental health and horror are confronted best by shining a light on them, by addressing them fully, personally. Horror makes intangible things tangible, I think, for the average person; and for those of us who struggle or have struggled with our mental health, it gives us the tools to detail the experience for others, to, hopefully, elicit understanding if not empathy.
Full disclosure: I was an early reader of this book and have offered it a blurb. But I wouldn’t have done so had it not significantly impacted me.
Aiello’s memoir, though not strictly horror, uses aspects of genre and pop culture—including aspects of horror—to detail their own history with mental illness and the surrounding difficulties and stigmas attached to it. They go to great and much-needed lengths to dissect how mental illness has been made out to be one of the great boogeymen of our lives via its myriad portrayals in culture (as a villain, a threat, a diabolical force, etc.) and detail the damage that’s been done as a result.
This is a powerful book in which I saw myself reflected all too often.
Revelatory memoir and cultural criticism that connects popular fantasy and our perceptions of mental illness to offer an empathetic path to compassionate care
Growing up, K.J. Aiello was fascinated by magical stories of dragons, wizards, and fantasy, where monsters were not what they seemed and anything was possible. These books and films were both a balm and an escape, a safe space where Aiello’s struggle with mental illness transformed from a burden into a strength that could win battles and vanquish villains.
A unique blend of memoir, research, and cultural criticism, The Monster and the Mirror charts Aiello’s life as…
I’ve struggled with mental health for most of my life, as have family members and friends I love. It’s extremely important to me that we normalize discussions of mental health so that we can find the best solutions. Anxiety and depression have been major themes in all of the young adult novels I’ve written; it’s my little way of furthering these conversations with the people who need them. I hope you’ll find these suggestions relatable, enjoyable, and question-inducing!
Anna Birch’s I Kissed Aliceis an enemies-to-lovers story about two gifted artists, Rhodes and Iliana, at a school for the arts who despise each other in person but fall hard for each other’s online fanfiction personas. Rhodes’s depression and anxiety consume her in the race to win a prestigious scholarship and navigate a complicated dynamic with her alcoholic mother. I found Rhodes’s on-page therapy sessions incredibly refreshing and relatable, something I don’t see enough of in YA fiction. The characters in this story are unlikeable and flawed—extremely so—but for that reason, my heart clenched often at their actions, assumptions, and reactions. Bonus points for the beautiful fanfiction graphics illustrated by Victoria Ying.
Rhodes and Iliana couldn't be more different, but that's not why they hate each other. Hyper-gifted painter Rhodes has always excelled at the Alabama Fine Arts Academy despite a secret bout of creator's block, while transfer student Iliana tries to outshine everyone with her intense work ethic. But since only one of them can get the coveted Capstone scholarship, and the competition between them grows fierce. They both escape the pressure on a fanfic site where they are unknowingly collaborating on a webcomic. Their anonymous online identities I-Kissed-Alice and Curious-in-Cheshire begin to fall in love, despite being worst enemies in…
I have been writing about LGBTQ+ culture for magazines and newspapers for almost a decade, and am a voracious consumer of queer stories. Queer literature makes our various needs and desires as a community come alive on the page, and helps us to connect with and understand one another. Reading LGBTQ+ books is a way to learn about contemporary queer life, and work out what more we can be doing to help those more marginalised than us.
Recently published and super accessible, this book is a modern catalogue of lesbian and bi culture for women. It looks at the recent evolution of queer female visibility in the mainstream and across pop culture, asking what material changes this visibility has for the life of queer women everywhere. It’s funny and pacey and broad in scope, as it asks: How islesbian culture changing?
'This "love letter of sorts" to inclusive queer women's culture is perfect for anyone who's just come out, wants to know what the heck's going on or has yearned for an entire chapter dedicated to the film Carol.' - DIVA
'An introspective dive into the fast-moving world of queer culture, Daisy unpacks some of the 21st century's biggest lesbian and bisexual moments to paint a portrait of what modern-day queerness looks like.' - GAY TIMES
'Daisy Jones effortlessly explores queer culture' - COSMOPOLITAN ______________________________________________________________________________________
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…
As a scholar committed to queer, feminist, and decolonial approaches to global politics, I’m always excited to read academic books that queer the discipline of International Relations (IR). When I first started my PhD, I already knew I was a feminist scholar, but it didn’t take long before I was introduced to queer scholarship, and soon enough, queer research was all I wanted to do! Queer research within and beyond IR inspired my own efforts to queer international law and transitional justice, to critique their cisheteronormativity and coloniality, but also to centre queer lives as agents of global politics.
I was so pleased to read the work of a rising queer IR scholar doing work that continues Weber’s foundational critique of the colonial and heteronormative logics of normal/perverse that underpin global politics.
In the book, Vernon focuses their attention on the colonial scripts of UK discourse on humanitarian intervention. I found myself agreeing at every turn with Vernon’s characterization of the UK’s scripting of "The Brutal Dictator," "The ISIL Terrorist," and "The British Self."
The book revealed to me the enduring power of colonialism and coloniality in global politics, and that queer IR must continue to scrutinize how these structures recruit queerness and heteronormativity in pernicious ways.
This book scrutinises the practice of humanitarian intervention to explore the extent to which racism and heteronormativity, rooted in colonial understandings of time and space, are enacted through the UK's responses, failed responses and non-responses to atrocity crimes. Taking humanitarian intervention as its central focus, the book uses queer international relations scholarship to draw the ongoing coloniality of the Western state into stark relief.
By studying House of Commons debates on the UK's response to mass atrocities in Libya, Syria, Iraq and Myanmar between 2011 and 2018, it highlights the ways in which dominant logics in these debates invoke subject-positions…
As a scholar committed to queer, feminist, and decolonial approaches to global politics, I’m always excited to read academic books that queer the discipline of International Relations (IR). When I first started my PhD, I already knew I was a feminist scholar, but it didn’t take long before I was introduced to queer scholarship, and soon enough, queer research was all I wanted to do! Queer research within and beyond IR inspired my own efforts to queer international law and transitional justice, to critique their cisheteronormativity and coloniality, but also to centre queer lives as agents of global politics.
I was privileged to read this book as chair of a book prize committee, a book which we shortlisted given its fantastic contribution to queer IR and conflict research.
Hagen, Ritholtz, and Delatolla have brought together a diverse collection of chapters that “tell the stories of LGBTIQ+ people in conflict not only as victims of political violence, but also as experts and agents of change."
I particularly enjoyed the chapters on the visual as queer method (Cooper-Cunningham) and queering the politics of knowledge in conflict research (Serrano-Amaya).
What a gift to read this carefully curated collection that not only spotlights queer lives in conflict but also amplifies the voices of queer scholars from diverse backgrounds who contributed to this important book.
Bringing together a team of international scholars, this volume provides a foundational guide to queer methodologies in the study of political violence and conflict.
Contributors provide illuminating discussions on why queer approaches are important, what they entail and how to utilise a queer approach to political violence and conflict. The chapters explore a variety of methodological approaches, including fieldwork, interviews, cultural analysis and archival research. They also engage with broader academic debates, such as how to work with research partners in an ethical manner.
Including valuable case studies from around the world, the book demonstrates how these methods can be…
As someone who struggles with the relentless “Family is everything!” of the holidays—a reality I share in common with a lot of queer people—I’ve been a lover of queer holiday stories that work to counterbalance and center the chosen families so many of us queer people create. As a queer reader, I’m always looking for more immersive stories about people like me, and during the holidays, I’m all the more ready for happy stories of queer holiday joy. I also own a rescued husky, and queer holiday audiobooks help get me through those frosty Canadian winter walks.
Holiday Fauxmance—i.e., fake dating for the holidays—is a peppermint-scented novella catnip for me. Sasha’s family can be a bit much over her being single, which she knows comes from a good place but is relentless, so she makes up a girlfriend, which works until her eldest sister tries to call her bluff and dares her to bring her “girlfriend” home for the holidays.
Enter neighbor Kennedy, who is beautiful, available, and—bonus—she’s also an actress and in need of a gig. This book is sweet and cute and the couple drew me in from the start, and I can’t express how much I loved the low-angst content. Their connections came from genuine emotions coming out of the pretending and the scene where they eventually come clean about the deception. I could not stop laughing.
Sasha Wolfe has been talking up her new girlfriend to her overbearing mother for months, and when her skeptical sister dares her to invite this new squeeze over for family Christmas, Sasha accepts the challenge. After all, how hard can it be to bring your nonexistent girlfriend home for the holidays?
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…
Growing up in an eccentric, liberal family, as a member of the Church of England, under the shadow of the British Government’s homophobic Section 28, the messages I received were distinctly mixed. If I’d heard the word ‘bisexual’ before the age of twenty my life might have been very different. And to this day, the most common assumption is that one can’t be simultaneously queer and Christian. As I’ve discovered, and as these books show, that isn’t true – and moving beyond that assumption reveals new and fascinating horizons.
If ever there was a book that felt like it had been written just for me, this is it. Set in a fictional European country in the early nineteenth century, it has swashbuckling, nights at the opera, complicated family history, politics, magic, and lesbians. The way that Christianity is integrated into the fantastic element won’t be for everybody, but I was won over by Margerit’s earnest insistence on claiming her identity as a queer woman of faith and power. I’d wholeheartedly recommend the rest of the series, too.
Margerit Sovitre did not expect to inherit Baron Saveze’s fortunes—even less his bodyguard, a ruthlessly efficient swordswoman known only as Barbara. Wealth suddenly makes Margerit a highly eligible heiress and buys her the enmity of the new Baron. He had expected to inherit all, and now eyes her fortune with open envy.
Barbara proudly served as the old Baron’s duelist but she had expected his death to make her a free woman. Bitterness turns to determination when she finds herself the only force that stands between Margerit and the new Baron’s greed.
At first Margerit protests the need for Barbara’s…
