100 Books Like What Stalks Among Us

Terese Marie Mailhot’s raw account of her traumatic childhood and its enduring consequences took my breath away. A nearly lifelong Alaskan, I am acutely aware of the social problems afflicting Indigenous communities; in fact, I’ve done research on the topic.

Yet, I have never read a more honest, painful, and beautifully written testimonial by an Indigenous person about her experience with childhood poverty and neglect, substance abuse in the home, sexual abuse, and resulting poor self-esteem and self-doubt. Mailhot, who was raised on Seabird Island in British Columbia, began writing her memoir as mental health therapy and it became a process of self-discovery.

Her experience highlights the effects of historical trauma on Indigenous individuals and communities, as well as the prevalence of maltreatment of Indigenous women. 

The first time I read this book, I was blown away by how twisty and creepy it was.

Silla is a wonderfully complex heroine. Is she paranoid, or is the manor really cursed? How much is she imagining and how much is real? Every time I thought I knew where the book was going, I was wrong. It just gets weirder and more unsettling as the book progresses.

As I read it, I just kept thinking that things didn’t make sense. But it was so compelling that I couldn’t stop, even when I was very confused. The ending pulls it all together with a completely satisfying ending that explained every question I had. It goes darker than most YA, but I loved it for going all in.

I LOVE anti-heroes, and Okiku, as a vengeful ghost who horrifically kills child murderers, is perfect.

A lot of books end with a character’s trauma as if surviving is the only important part of the story. But Okiku didn’t survive her trauma-—and she is furious, taking out all her pain and rage on people who prey on the weak. When Okiku makes a connection with a lonely, cursed boy, she starts to wonder if she can help prevent tragedy instead of cleaning up after it. Through an unlikely friendship, Okiku and Tark come together and show that it’s never too late to heal.

If I’m making it sound like this is a sweet story of friendship and redemption, be warned—this book is terrifying.

The first time I read it—and yes, there have been a few times—I could not put this book down.

Romy Silvers is the only crew member to survive an accident during interstellar travel, and she’s got the trauma to prove it. Her only communication with other people is by email. At first, she’s ecstatic when she finds out another ship has been sent to join her. But then the messages from Earth start getting weird.

The author does a brilliant job of casting doubt as to how much of what’s going on is real—and how much is in Romy’s head. I wouldn’t have thought being alone in space could be so terrifying, but the tension and feeling of creeping dread did not stop until the ending—which left me reeling.

Maddy is not, and never will be, a bad girl. She's just a scared girl that did some very, very bad things.

That doesn't mean I wasn't cheering her on. Maddy is the kind of heroine that I fantasized about jumping into the pages to fight for. I cussed out many a side-character in my head, just wishing they would try to talk to me like that so I could give them what they deserve.

But Maddy gets her lick back without my help - and it's a remorseless gorefest. The ending of this book is part slasher, part action film that I needed. After getting frustrated with all her hardships, I needed Maddy’s revenge to take over the book, just like her rage took over her.

This book made me dizzy with love. This memoir is overflowing with love. Love of the self, love of language, romantic love, familial love, pet love, fear of love, unrequited love, tough love, tender love.

Perhaps most of all, I was taken with the way the author navigates the world so internally, a very solitary yet romantic pursuit of belonging. I kept catching myself leaning forward while reading, propelled through the nonlinear story of Stewart's life by the swelling emotions and incredible control of language.

I spent two weeks reading this book on repeat because the powerful, poetic prose kept inspiring me to write. If this book were a cake, I would eat it forthwith.

I didn't realize a book could get the zoomies. América del Norte has instilled in me such great wonder and vicious prose envy that I may never recover. Rambunctious, bombastic, and sprawling, this work of autofiction left me saying things like, “No way!” and “What the hell?!” out loud like a complete buffoon. Sometimes because of the story and sometimes because of the audacity of the sentence structures.

Medina Mora weaves history, literature, politics, translation, and much more into a grand chronicle. Amid devastating historical narratives and global tragedy, I still laughed out loud at some parts and startled my little cat, who then also got the zoomies.

I had the incredible fortune of seeing Alabi read from Against Heaven about a month ago, and what I most remember is the feeling of calm that came over me as they read. It's the kind of calm you get when you're in the presence of incredible beauty—like a waterfall, a mountain, or a vast crowd of protestors—and you realize that this is what life is for.

These poems are dear to me because of the way Alabi wrestles biblical language into meanings that they, and we, need. I wish I could feel all the time the way I feel reading this book.

I wish I was a bug so I could live in this world. Knetzger’s book is a gorgeously illustrated graphic chapter book that clearly loves the natural world and refuses to talk down to young readers. The bugs in question are beautifully drawn, cartoony versions of themselves—Rhino-B and Stag-B live in a colorful world filled with both realistic bug facts and a quietly fantastic reality where different bugs coexist harmoniously.

A case in point: the boys regularly visit their friend and librarian, Dome Spider, who often makes comments about eating "meat" but never actually tries to eat the pair. The stakes in their world are not quite naturally realistic, but the emotions are always resonant. The boys experience a range of days—beautiful ones, sad ones, days they fight, and everything in between.

I’d love to give this book to an early reader to teach them that empathy should extend to… show more.

The past and the present constantly play against each other in this story about three adolescent best friends–only two of whom survive adulthood. I love Berman’s extremely honest portrayal of teenage girls who are as desperate to fit in as they are to stand out.

This is also an extremely well-rendered and lived-in portrayal of a trio of friends with a very different dynamic than a duo.