This collection is a strange, shimmering marvel that’s equal parts Southern fable, psychological horror, and queer coming-of-age tale. Set in a version of the South where grief tangles with the supernatural, this collection evokes the primal fears of childhood while excavating the raw ache of family, both found and blood-bound.

LaJoie’s prose is elliptical and haunted, perfect for readers who like their fiction thick with atmosphere and emotional depth.

Madison Spencer is a fourteen-year-old girl who dies of a drug overdose, only to discover that she has been condemned to Hell. However, she soon realizes that the damned souls in Hell are not punished in the classic sense but are instead subjected to a monotonous, soul-crushing existence where they are forced to relive their worst experiences. With the help of a few allies she meets in Hell, Madison sets out to unravel the mysteries of her afterlife, challenge the status quo, and find a way to escape her eternal torment.

Yes, another dark comedy. But Chuck Palahniuk has a particular talent for taking what makes humans squirm and serving it with a wholesome dollop of relatable ontology. In Damned, he explores themes of the afterlife, societal norms, and human behavior, all set against the backdrop of a reimagined Hell. This Hell is not just a place of eternal suffering… show more.

Who doesn’t want to read about ancient Egyptian cannibalism? The title seems sensational, since no actual cannibalism is involved—at least as we might conceive of it in the world of the living—but Eyre employs the standard designation for the specific spell in the Pyramid Texts, the oldest major corpus of religious texts to survive from antiquity. A reader new to ancient Egypt might well read the translation of the Cannibal Hymn at the beginning of the book and be utterly confused. By the end of the book, however, the secrets of this 4300 year old text, including its relationship to butchery rituals and the mundane aspects of animal husbandry, are revealed.

I was astonished when I opened this book and saw all the gorgeous art depicting heavens, hells, and afterlives from around the world. The colors and printing are lush, and it’s incredible to see everything from brightly colored Islamic art showing magnificent gardens of paradise to ancient illustrated manuscripts of Valhalla and mind-bending medieval portraits of Christian hell.

I also love the full, yet concise, descriptions of every hell, underworld, purgatory, and heaven that humans around the world and throughout history have imagined. I learned so much about the different cultures and religions through their visions of the afterlife, and all alongside the art depicting it. I feel like I got an art history class as a bonus!

I have to say, hands down, this is one of my favorite authors.

This humorous but philosophical book challenges our understanding of death and the afterlife. It is told from the protagonist's point of view after he dies from a heart attack. It’s a laugh-out-loud satirical recanting of Heaven while making significant political, social, and religious commentary

This book is in a category all its own, and I love it.

It's so dark sometimes, it's painful to read. That’s what makes it great to me. Three men, brothers, fight for a hard-scrabble life, and they don’t always take the high road. At times, it feels like an adventure novel.

At other times, it felt like I might need to take a shower after reading—it’s that gritty. But it’s so unique, so well-constructed, so unlike anything else, I couldn’t stop reading it. 

This book was co-edited by my own PhD supervisor, Prof. Paul Badham, a well-known British theologian and philosopher on afterlife beliefs and near-death experiences.

When “defecting” from archaeology to religious studies, two things drew me to Prof. Badham. First is that he takes seriously the evidence of near-death experiences. Second is his understanding of the importance of looking at the beliefs of different cultures around the world in making claims about human spiritual realities. 

These traits are evident in the selection of contributions to this book. A series of chapters cover death and immortality in African traditional religions, Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam, though the book also features sections on the philosophy and parapsychology of the afterlife. Even disbelief is covered, in an article by Linda Badham which has become a classic.

The book is essential reading for anyone interested in world religions or the afterlife.

The main reason I'd like to be friends with Seth Brown is, well, he's a Messiah. He can heal me if I cut myself, he can resurrect me in the event of my untimely death—though by all accounts the afterlife is rather, ahem, pleasant, so I might fight him on that—and he can turn tap water into a perfect cup of coffee. His resurrected arctic fox friend is an excellent ally, but Seth could use another human to help track down the vile bishop who's killing off his half-brothers in an effort to eliminate all but the one-and-only True Messiah. Or, on second thought, maybe I'd stay out of the line of fire by getting a job at the local Ducky Mar....

I read this book not long after reading Spook, and it scratched many of the same philosophical itches for me. I love its dreamlike quality and haunting sense of nostalgia. As far as I know, it's also unlike any other work of fiction in its approach to the question of life after death.

It blends two seemingly unrelated topics—historical disasters (e.g., the Hartford circus fire, the sinking of the Titanic)—and the science of near-death experiences in a striking, unique way. Although it is, in many ways, a deeply sad story, it ultimately feels hopeful. This is one of those novels that left a lasting impact on my psyche.   

This novel evokes an extraordinary range of emotions. Skibell works wonders with folklore and history, turning out a tale of tales that is by turns shocking and horrifying, tender, and outrageously funny. The language is deceptively simple and beautiful. Consider this description from the murdered narrator, on returning to his plundered neighborhood after climbing out of a mass grave: “In front of every house were piles of vows and promises, all in broken pieces. How I could see such things, I cannot tell you.” The balance here—of imagination, grief, and lightness—is exquisite.