100 Books Like This Delicious Death

This book is beautifully drawn, eerily detailed, and full of secrets that change the shape of everything you think you know.

This book has a real depth and complexity as well as a super fun, unpredictable adventure at its core. I loved the fierce, complicated young women, and the way the land itself was a major character.

This story pulled me through a period of my own grief and anger while reminding me how powerful love and loyalty can be.

I loved this book because it’s whip-smart, super witty, and full of sharp edges.

I’m a speed reader, but this is the rare kind of book that leaves me racing to keep up with a narrator too clever for her own good. I love a complicated protagonist, and I was wrapped up in how vivid Nora felt, carrying so much pain under a sharp, protective exterior.

It reminded me how surviving something doesn’t make you invincible—it makes you complicated, layered, human. I feel like it taught me something new about myself, or maybe my work with youth.

Jade, the protagonist, is just about to start college, so the “What I did on my summer vacation” essay assignments are likely far behind her, yet I found myself wondering how she would describe her summer trip to Vietnam to stay with her estranged father in his haunted and haunting French colonial villa restoration project.

Come for the colonialism and generational trauma; stay for the ghosts and the bugs and the excellent world-building around food culture (all of which are intertwined.) What makes this book so visceral for me personally is Jade’s anger at her father, so intense that it seems to permeate every inch of the house and the words on the page, and the sense of being Other in so many ways. 

This is the perfect book to read on one of those stormy, sweltering summer nights when each bolt of lightning highlights the shadows lurking in the… show more.

As a major fan of horror films generally, I could not say no to this book. Although some may argue that this is not a YA novel and doesn’t belong on this list, I say hogwash.

Graduating high school senior Jade, half Native American, is obsessed with slasher movies as a way to deal with the horrors of her everyday life: small town, questionable reputation, alcoholic dad, being Other, seeing her town fall for the charms of the mucky-mucks developing waterfront land on her town’s reportedly cursed lake, etc.

This book is super voicey, with a lovely use of language (and a barrage of horror movie references, which was so fun for me), with central commentary on post-colonialism, gentrification, and trauma. Also, without giving away the ending, I can say that it was truly bonkers slasher delightfulness!

Tuck this book into a waterproof bag, and row out to the middle… show more.

Look, I know Hogarth is better known for her more recent novel Motherthing, but I will always have a soft spot for this book. Decades ago, there were some grisly cannibalistic murders at the Boy Meets Girl Inn, resulting in a reputed haunting. Noelle and Alf, high school friends with summer night shift gigs at the Inn, are organizing a soiree to celebrate the anniversary of the killings.

It's told mostly in Noelle’s journal entries that have been annotated and footnoted by detectives, experts, and a movie director, which made it irresistible to me since it’s done so well; the novel spotlights the ultimate unreliable narrator and includes some absolutely disgusting (in the best possible way) body horror scenes. I’ve read and re-read this book, and each time, I’m so creeped out.

Take this book with you on a summer vacation that involves a hotel stay, and read it… show more.

Horror-themed summer camp for Black queer girls? Yes, I don’t mind if I do!

Reading Ellis’ book is like returning to the summer going into my junior year of high school and the angst and drama of summer camp, only with the addition of woods and crappy cabins where the danger is very real and at least one camp counselor has an agenda that involves her genetic legacy of being the daughter of a convicted serial killer.

Temple, our angry (peer) counselor, is on a mission to find her mother’s corpse, even though she doesn’t buy that her dad actually killed her. The novel gives me a real Friday the 13th vibe, mixed with a tangled family history that rivals Anne Rice’s Mayfair Witches series. I can't refuse a complicated family mess, and this has it… a lot!

Read this book while you’re taking a break from a solo hike… show more.

I’m an absolute sucker for a ‘what really happened that night’ tale and this is one of my all time favourites due to the unreliable narration and the sense of slowly creeping dread.

The core of this book is the messy tangle of friendship, obsession, and unspoken longing, which I can never get enough of. Throughout my first read of the story, I re-evaluated what I thought I knew, and went back to the start over and over. I had to know who was lying…

This is a book packed with amazing characters and powerful moments that left me gasping and braving paper cuts to turn the pages fast enough.

The bravery and wit these characters show is totally inspiring and had me hooked from page one. I loved how The Last Girls Standing explores what happens after the horror ends—how you carry fear with you no matter where you go until you find a way to slough it off.

It was a cathartic read that had me clenching my fists in excitement, and throwing the book right across the room once (you’ll know it when you get there).

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.

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.)