I love books where the setting is just as big and alive as the characters. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s a familiar place or someplace new: if a vivid setting is a key element of the story, I’m in. I think it’s because I grew up in one of those small towns in the beautiful middle of nowhere where if someone asks where you’re from, it’s just easier to say someplace else. I wanted to see the world, and books let me do that. I also wanted validation in reading—and writing—about the small places I knew, and books let me do that, too.
I’ve read countless books set in New York City or its boroughs, and I’m going to confess that sometimes they can feel a little generic. Not A Girl's Guide to Love and Magic.
The plot in this book is driven by Cicely’s quest to save her aunt through a scavenger hunt of sorts that is all tied into the excitement and action of the West Indian Parade on Labor Day in Flatbush, Brooklyn.
I also love how while this is technically a young adult book (Cicely is a sophomore in high school), it can be a great read for most older middle-grade readers, especially those who want to read up.
Perfect for fans of The Sun Is Also a Star and Blackout, this YA novel from Debbie Rigaud is a celebration of Haitian and Caribbean culture, and a story of first love, vodou, and finding yourself, all set against the backdrop of the West Indian Day Parade in Brooklyn.
Cicely Destin lives for the West Indian Day Parade, the joyous celebration of Caribbean culture that takes over the streets of her neighborhood. She loves waving the Haitian flag, sampling delicious foods, and cheering for the floats. And this year? She’ll get to hang with her stylish aunt, an influencer known…
I have been fascinated with ghosts since an early age (Casper the Friendly Ghost was a favorite childhood cartoon) because this is the supernatural being that could be in your home right now! I have read numerous ghost stories/novels and have learned all the nuances that spirits can present from poltergeist activity to seances to spiritual possession. I zoom in on those ghost stories where the past is critical to the intent of the haunting spirit, whether it be beneficial or malevolent in nature. As a neuroscientist and author of paranormal fantasy novels, my distinctive background also allows me to approach this genre in a unique way.
I read this chilling story of the supernatural infestation of the Lutz’s home when I was a teenager, and it scared me so much (because it was a true story) that I could only read it during the day!
The idea that an other-worldly entity primarily communicated with the children was both captivating and creepy, perpetuating the belief that kids and animals are more sensitive to the paranormal world, and compelled me to read more about this genre.
Like a lot of screen adaptations, the book is so much better than the movie!
“A fascinating and frightening book” (Los Angeles Times)—the bestselling true story about a house possessed by evil spirits, haunted by psychic phenomena almost too terrible to describe.
In December 1975, the Lutz family moved into their new home on suburban Long Island. George and Kathleen Lutz knew that, one year earlier, Ronald DeFeo had murdered his parents, brothers, and sisters in the house, but the property—complete with boathouse and swimming pool—and the price had been too good to pass up.
Twenty-eight days later, the entire Lutz family fled in terror.
This is the spellbinding, shocking true story that gripped the…
My training is in Classics (especially Greek drama), which has given me an appreciation for clever writers who tweak conventional themes to surprise readers, foil expectations, and explore new ideas—or new sides of old ideas. Greek epic and tragedy also exhibit fairly rigid expectations about personal responsibility: even if a god made you do it, it’s still your responsibility. Agamemnon has to pay for sacrificing his daughter; Heracles has to perform his labors. Madness and possession are vivid ways to explore where one’s autonomy leaves off and another power takes over. They’re excellent tools for poking at humans to see how a thinking, feeling individual deals with unintended disaster.
Greek tragedy is similar to fantasy except for matters of form (e.g. the chorus). Euripides was a startlingly modern playwright, especially when it comes to psychology.
Heracles can be portrayed as a monstrous monster-slayer (I’m looking at you, Sophocles), but in Euripides he’s noble, brave, and domestic. He performs his labors because he’s the kind of guy to use his powers for good.
Hera, being a jealous jerk, drives him mad; Madness herself is unenthusiastic about the whole affair, recognizing that Heracles has made the world a better place.
But insane Heracles knows that he’s murdering innocent people. Is that who he really is? Is it all Hera’s fault?
Or is Heracles a good, normal person who’s lost a bit of his decency after so much fighting?
Euripides' Heracles is an extraordinary play, innovative in its treatment of the myth, bold in its dramatic structure, and filled with effective human pathos. The play tells a tale of horror: Heracles, the greatest hero of the Greeks, is maddened by the gods to murder his wife and children. But this suffering and divine malevolence are leavened by the friendship between Heracles and Theseus, which allows the hero to survive this final and most painful labor. The Heracles raises profound questions about the gods and mortal values in a capricious and harsh world.
There
are two scenarios in which I will set a book down after reading only the first
page: either the prose is so atrociously bad that I fear neuronal loss if I
read any further, or the prose is so incandescent that I fear irreparable
damage to my self-confidence as a writer. James’s prose made me consider giving
up writing and transitioning to, I don’t know, goat farming.
None but the Righteous follows a boy named Ham, who is possessed by the spirit of the saint
whose relic he carries around in a pendant. After Hurricane Katrina, he must
try to find his way back to his adoptive home of New Orleans despite complicated
feelings about the woman who took him in as a child.
Part climate fiction and
part mystical tract, this book is hypnotically, hauntingly beautiful.
Lyrical, riveting, and haunting from its opening lines, None But the Righteous is an extraordinary debut that signals the arrival of an unforgettable new voice in contemporary fiction
"[A] profound debut novel . . . James captures the simple kindnesses of a cup of coffee or a shared cellphone as though they were religious acts. Where a more ponderous writer might lapse into a lengthy stream of consciousness, James uses short chapters to weave a story of fractured time and uncharted space into the fabric of life after Katrina . . . This is a book of faith aching to…
I’ve been in love with cozy, low-stakes fantasy ever since my mother first handed me a copy of The Hobbit—so for most of my life. I love the focus on place and small comforts, the humble (and often unwilling!) heroes, the slower pace that builds to an emotional crescendo (as well as an action-packed one!), and the way these stories always leave me feeling warm, like I’ve just shared a coffee with a loved one. It should come as no surprise, then, that these are the kinds of stories I love writing best.
I’ve spent much of my adult life searching for media that gives me the same feeling as sitting down to my favourite Halloween movies as a kid. The gorgeous, autumnal crunch of Hocus Pocus, the spooky-but-not-scary atmosphere of Tim Burton’s 90’s offerings, the magic and adventure of WillowandThe Dark Crystal. It was a big, specific ask, and yet I found it so perfectly in Frances Hardinge.
My favourite of her books (so far) is A Skinful of Shadows. A twisting, turning, spooky adventure about a girl harboring the spirit of an abused circus bear who must save herself, her doofus brother, and said bear from being hollowed out and used as hosts by their horde of ghoulish ancestors. It’s cozy, clever, spectral perfection.
A Skinful of Shadows is a dark YA historical fantasy set in the early part of the English Civil War. Makepeace is an illegitimate daughter of the aristocratic Fellmotte family, and as such, she shares their unique hereditary gift: the capacity to be possessed by ghosts. Reluctant to accept her appointed destiny as vessel for a coterie of her ancestors, she escapes. As she flees the pursuing Fellmottes across war-torn England, she accumulates a motley crew of her own allies, including outcasts, misfits, criminals, and one extremely angry dead bear. From Costa Book of the Year winner Frances Hardinge comes…
I am a novelist and travel writer specializing in Egyptology. My research has taken me to Egypt many times, and I write both fiction and nonfiction related to my studies. Like all Egyptologists, I understood from a young age that ‘They that drink of the Nile always return.’ When not hopping across continents, I can be found in Wisconsin, enjoying something I call porch time.
The might of Ancient Egypt, even in the form of one little Shabti, should never be questioned. This book charmed me on so many levels. The haunted artifact in the museum's collection is a force to be reckoned with and provides more than enough intrigue to carry the adventure forward. The two protagonists, Dashiel and Hermann, are flawed, past their prime, and used to living on the fringes of society. I fell in love with both of them, as I did with the larger cast of characters–flim flam or otherwise.
The emotional story is very sweet, which suits the characters perfectly and which is still with me. The setting (greater Chicagoland in the 1930s) is expertly recreated down to the regional and period dialect, which is always delightful. I would absolutely relish a sequel, and this hardcover will never leave my shelf.
It's 1934. Former medium Dashiel Quicke travels the country debunking spiritualism and false mediums while struggling to stay ahead of his ex-business partner and lover who wants him back at any cost. During a demonstration at a college campus, Dashiel meets Hermann Goschalk, an Egyptologist who's convinced that he has a genuine haunted artifact on his hands. Certain there is a rational explanation for whatever is going on with Hermann's relics, Dashiel would rather skip town, but soon finds himself falling for Hermann. He agrees to take a look after all and learns that something…
I find most traditionally published work is similar, or at best live within a narrow boundary. Independently published work is vastly more original but raw. I picked this up on a whim and absolutely loved it.
It deals with a unique blend of themes that I have never seen before and sets them in a believable world. Catholicism, artificial intelligence, the treatment of Uyghurs, and demonic possession being tackled by a first-time author in a self-published work is an impressive feat, and more so that he was able to bring it together in such a compelling way.
Blatty makes evil sound uncomfortably like us: petty, needling, relentless. It makes me think about how sometimes the scariest things aren’t demons, but what a people grab for when certainty slips.
Father Damien Karras: 'Where is Regan?' Regan MacNeil: 'In here. With us.'
The terror begins unobtrusively. Noises in the attic. In the child's room, an odd smell, the displacement of furniture, an icy chill. At first, easy explanations are offered. Then frightening changes begin to appear in eleven-year-old Regan. Medical tests fail to shed any light on her symptoms, but it is as if a different personality has invaded her body.
Father Damien Karras, a Jesuit priest, is called in. Is it possible that a demonic presence has possessed the child? Exorcism seems to be the only answer...
My training is in Classics (especially Greek drama), which has given me an appreciation for clever writers who tweak conventional themes to surprise readers, foil expectations, and explore new ideas—or new sides of old ideas. Greek epic and tragedy also exhibit fairly rigid expectations about personal responsibility: even if a god made you do it, it’s still your responsibility. Agamemnon has to pay for sacrificing his daughter; Heracles has to perform his labors. Madness and possession are vivid ways to explore where one’s autonomy leaves off and another power takes over. They’re excellent tools for poking at humans to see how a thinking, feeling individual deals with unintended disaster.
The Bloodwrath is basically Berserkergang, not possession, right? It affects badgers almost exclusively. What a bummer to be a badger and bear a burden that no one else has!
But it’s a bit more like possession in this book. Lady Cregga has the Bloodwrath more strongly than anyone has ever observed before; her personality seems to reflect this, as she’s impatient, brusque, and aggressive (even for a badger). She’s wounded and loses her sight, and the Bloodwrath goes away.
Even though her personality appears to be tied up with her madness, the Bloodwrath must be something external, since it can leave her without destroying her. Is it an inborn quality or an effect brought about by her personal choices, an appetite that can be satiated, or something else?
The tenth book in the beloved, bestselling Redwall saga - soon to be a major Netflix movie!
Tammo dreams of joining the Long Patrol, the legendary army of fighting hares who serve Lady Cregga Rose Eyes, ruler of Salamandastron. And with Damug Warfang's mighty battalion of savage vermin on the rampage, young Tammo's dream is about to become a brutal reality . . .
SOON TO BE A MAJOR TV SHOW, FROM THE NETWORK BEHIND THE WALKING DEAD
'[W]hen I found Rice's work I absolutely loved how she took that genre and (...) made [it] feel so contemporary and relevant' Sarah Pinborough, bestselling author of Behind Her Eyes
'[Rice wrote] in the great tradition of the gothic' Ramsey Campbell, bestselling author of The Hungry Moon
FROM INTERNATIONALLY BESTSELLING AUTHOR AND 'QUEEN OF THE UNDEAD', ANNE RICE
The Vampire Chronicles continue with a riveting, rich saga - part adventure, part fairy tale - of Prince Lestat and the story of how he came to rule…
