Books like The Call is Coming from Inside the House

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 is lesbian culture changing?

Anna Birch’s I Kissed Alice is 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.

This is a book that I was gifted by a mentor.

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. 

I have to admit, although I know a lot about gods, I haven’t spent a ton of time reading about folkloric creatures, like faeries, brownies, and selkies. This book, set in a gothic old house in the English countryside in the 1850s, definitely made me feel my neglect of the topic; luckily, I got to learn alongside magician John Blake and Lord Thornby as they investigate the spell that’s holding Thornby trapped.

One remarkable thing about this book is the intriguing and clever magic system. The romance is great. And the twist at the end—well, I didn’t see it coming.

Okay, first of all, one lead starts off hating the other. Sign me up, right? I like how they’re both lesfic writers but the first two chapters immediately juxtapose where they are in their processes – one is a nobody who can’t write fast enough and the other is a big name with writer’s block. They get roomed together at a writing retreat and then snowed in, so double the forced proximity. We love to see it. For me, this book is a lovely balance of Christmassiness (let me have this word, okay?) and writerliness. It helps me remember why I enjoy writing my queer romances – for the love of storytelling, not for money or fame. (But note: I don’t condone most of the writing opinions put forth in this story.)

Tentacles get a bad rap, which is a shame.

What most people fail to appreciate is that each new tentacle is another location for a little kiss. Vesper Rune, a warm-hearted eldritch horror, has tentacles, and, as librarian Sebastian Rath can attest, each could do with at least one little kiss.

Jordan L Hawk, author of the popular Whyborne and Griffin series, is a titan in the world of kissable monstrosities, and the cultist-turned-hero Vesper Rune is possibly my favorite. After a lifetime of hiding, he finally finds a place where he can be safe, open about both his queerness and his untraditional anatomy, and receive many little kisses. Widdershins knows its own.