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Stories That Heal: 5 Books for Mental Health Awareness Month
May is Mental Health Awareness Month—an annual observance founded by Mental Health America in 1949 to highlight the importance of mental wellbeing, educate the public, reduce stigma, and promote support for those affected by mental health conditions.
As someone who believes in the power of books to change lives, I thought this was the perfect time to share a mental health–focused reading list. Whether you frequently read books centered on mental health or are exploring this space for the first time, I hope you’ll find something here that resonates. This list includes a mix of fiction and nonfiction across genres—something for every reader.
The Buddha and the Borderline: My Recovery from Borderline Personality Disorder through Dialectical Behavior Therapy, Buddhism, and Online Dating by Kiera Van Gelder
(Amazon, Bookshop.org)
memoir
In this candid memoir set largely in Boston, Kiera Van Gelder traces her journey through Borderline Personality Disorder—from self-harm and addiction to healing through Dialectical Behavior Therapy and Buddhism. It’s an honest, hopeful account of finding stability and meaning after years of chaos.
(Read full review)
The Drowning Girl by Caitlin R. Kiernan
(Amazon, Bookshop.org)
literary fantasy, LGBTQIA+
In this haunting literary mystery, India Morgan Phelps—Imp to her friends—tries to untangle what really happened the summer she met Eva Canning. Was Eva a mermaid? A werewolf? Or is Imp’s memory altered by her schizophrenia? Told in lyrical, first-person prose, The Drowning Girl explores mental illness, identity, and unreliable memory, with nuanced queer representation and a mystery that unfolds entirely from within.
(Read full review)
Hunger by Jackie Morse Kessler
(Amazon, not available on Bookshop.org)
fantasy, YA
In this early 2010s YA standout, Hunger blends biting fantasy with raw realism to explore anorexia through a supernatural lens. When teen Lisabeth Lewis is visited by Death and becomes Famine—one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—she’s forced to confront the eating disorder that controls her life. With Buffy the Vampire Slayer-style humor and emotional honesty, this novel offers a powerful, metaphor-rich take on the inner voice of anorexia and the path to healing.
(Read full review)
The Sum of My Parts: A Survivor’s Story of Dissociative Identity Disorder by Olga Trujillo, JD
(Amazon, Bookshop.org)
memoir
In this powerful memoir, Olga Trujillo—once a successful attorney in D.C.—recounts their journey through the diagnosis, treatment, and recovery process of Dissociative Identity Disorder. As long-repressed memories of childhood abuse begin to surface, Olga works to integrate their parts and reclaim their life. With compassion, clarity, and survivor-centered care, this memoir offers both insight and hope to anyone seeking to understand trauma, dissociation, or the long path to healing.
(Read full review)
(Note: At the time I wrote my original review, Trujillo had not yet come out as nonbinary, so older references use previous pronouns.)
Waiting for Daybreak by Amanda McNeil
(Amazon, Bookshop.org)
zombie horror
In my own novel, Waiting for Daybreak, a young woman with Borderline Personality Disorder unexpectedly finds sobriety from alcoholism and strength when a zombie outbreak turns Boston upside down. Frieda has spent years battling emotional chaos and isolation—but when a mysterious virus brings society to a halt, she discovers survival suits her better than daily life ever did. As she sets out to save her sick cat, her solitary routine shatters, and she’s forced to reengage with a world that no longer plays by the rules. A character-driven post-apocalypse, Waiting for Daybreak explores mental illness, addiction recovery, and the fragile resilience that can grow in even the bleakest moments.
(See what readers are saying)
I hope you’ve found something here that speaks to you. If you have a favorite book that explores mental health—fiction or nonfiction—I’d love to hear about it in the comments!
Book Review: Witchcraft for Wayward Girls by Grady Hendrix
A chilling blend of historical fiction and supernatural horror, this novel explores what happens when pregnant teenage girls—hidden away in a 1970s home for wayward girls—discover the dark power of witchcraft.
Summary:
They call them wayward girls. Loose girls. Girls who grew up too fast. And they’re sent to the Wellwood Home in St. Augustine, Florida, where unwed mothers are hidden by their families to have their babies in secret, give them up for adoption, and most important of all, to forget any of it ever happened.
Fifteen-year-old Fern arrives at the home in the sweltering summer of 1970, pregnant, terrified and alone. Under the watchful eye of the stern Miss Wellwood, she meets a dozen other girls in the same predicament. There’s Rose, a hippie who insists she’s going to find a way to keep her baby and escape to a commune. And Zinnia, a budding musician who knows she’s going to go home and marry her baby’s father. And Holly, a wisp of a girl, barely fourteen, mute and pregnant by no-one-knows-who.
Everything the girls eat, every moment of their waking day, and everything they’re allowed to talk about is strictly controlled by adults who claim they know what’s best for them. Then Fern meets a librarian who gives her an occult book about witchcraft, and power is in the hands of the girls for the first time in their lives. But power can destroy as easily as it creates, and it’s never given freely. There’s always a price to be paid…and it’s usually paid in blood.
Review:
I had previously read Grady Hendrix’s My Best Friend’s Exorcism and remembered liking it more than I actually did. When I revisited my review, I realized I had enjoyed the concept far more than the execution—and unfortunately, that’s exactly how I feel about this book as well.
One thing I didn’t realize before picking this up is that Hendrix is a male author. I read My Best Friend’s Exorcism digitally, so it wasn’t until I saw the author photo on my library copy that it became obvious. Now, that’s not to say men can’t or shouldn’t write about women’s issues—but in my experience, if a book is expressly about women’s experiences (such as pregnancy and abortion), I tend to dislike it when it’s written by a man. Hendrix acknowledges this in a note, explaining that his inspiration came from a family member’s experience as a wayward girl, and I appreciate the personal connection as well as the research he put in. That said, I still struggled with the execution. In retrospect, this also explains issues I had with My Best Friend’s Exorcism—especially the queer-baiting between the two best friends. The way their relationship was written didn’t quite reflect how best girlfriends interact. I now wonder if Hendrix was inserting subtext without realizing it. But I digress—back to this book.
This is a long book, and it takes quite a while before the supernatural horror elements appear. When they do, they feel sporadic—as if the book can’t quite decide whether it wants to be historical fiction or horror. According to the author’s note, an earlier version was pure historical fiction, and it shows. The witchcraft elements feel both tacked-on and underwhelming, lacking the impact they seem to be aiming for. The spellcasting scenes, in particular, drag on too long—the book repeatedly emphasizes how rituals are tedious, repetitive, and boring, and then actually makes the reader sit through them in full dialogue.
The novel also struggles with whether the witches are heroes or villains. At first, they seem to empower the girls in a feminist, girl-power way, but later, they’re positioned as the main threat. I can see the poetic logic in showing that these girls had no real options, but at the same time, a novel like this needs a stronger thematic core—a sense of hope, justice, or at least a clear vision for a better future. On the plus side, I never knew what would happen next or how it would wrap up. Even when I felt frustrated, I kept reading simply because I needed to know how it all ended.
While the book does include a Black teen girl at the home, the handling of race and racism felt superficial at best. The only acknowledgment of racism in 1970s Florida is a scene where the home’s director initially wants to separate the Black girl from the others, only for a hippie character to protest and swap rooms with her. That’s it. This felt wildly unrealistic for the time period.
Beyond this, there are three other Black characters: the cook, the maid (her sister), and a driver. While these are historically accurate roles, the cook is a blatant magical negro trope, complete with a sassy personality and a role that exists entirely to serve and clean up after the white girls. I cringed. A lot. The white characters take advantage of her kindness without any acknowledgment of how their actions impact her life. I also disliked how Black characters’ skin tones were described.
Readers should be aware that this book includes:
- Graphic descriptions of self-injury related to spellcasting.
- Traumatic childbirth.
- Forced institutionalization & adoption.
- Emotional abuse.
- Mentions of CSA & child abuse (off-page).
- A spellcasting scene with explicit Christian blasphemy. (Expected for witches, but I do think it could have achieved the same effect without spelling out the blasphemy.)
Ultimately, this is historical fiction with horror elements rather than a true horror novel. It would have benefited from stronger thematic direction and a more nuanced approach to diversity, avoiding the Magical Negro trope. The book understands that these wayward homes were a problem, but it doesn’t seem to take a stance on what should have been done differently. It sends mixed messages about abortion, single teen motherhood, and autonomy—leaving it feeling murky rather than impactful. Recommended for readers who enjoy historical fiction with a touch of horror—and who don’t mind waiting for the horror to arrive. For those interested in the real history behind these homes, The Girls Who Went Away is a must-read.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 482 pages – chunkster
Source: Library
Buy It (Amazon or Bookshop.org)
Book Review: A Sunny Place for Shady People by Mariana Enríquez, translated by Megan McDowell
A chilling yet deeply human collection of short stories where ghosts, goblins, and the macabre collide with everyday life—showcasing a rising star in Argentinian literature.
Summary:
Welcome to Argentina and the fascinating, frightening, fantastical imagination of Mariana Enriquez. In twelve spellbinding new stories, Enriquez writes about ordinary people, especially women, whose lives turn inside out when they encounter terror, the surreal, and the supernatural. A neighborhood nuisanced by ghosts, a family whose faces melt away, a faded hotel haunted by a girl who dissolved in the water tank on the roof, a riverbank populated by birds that used to be women—these and other tales illuminate the shadows of contemporary life, where the line between good and evil no longer exists.
Lyrical and hypnotic, heart-stopping and deeply moving, Enriquez’s stories never fail to enthrall, entertain, and leave us shaken. Translated by the award-winning Megan McDowell, A Sunny Place for Shady People showcases Enriquez’s unique blend of the literary and the horrific, and underscores why Kazuo Ishiguro, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, calls her “the most exciting discovery I’ve made in fiction for some time.”
Review:
This diabolical collection of 12 horror stories, each with at least a touch of the supernatural, blends the speculative with the deeply human. While steeped in Argentinian culture, the themes—grief, fear, injustice—resonate universally.
My favorite stories in this collection explore women’s suffering and resilience. “Metamorphosis” follows a woman undergoing a hysterectomy as she confronts medical misogyny, while “Different Colors Made of Tears” examines the far-reaching impact of domestic violence, even on those who haven’t experienced it firsthand. Other stories explore moral dilemmas, like the tension between wanting to help others while maintaining personal safety, or the existential fear of cancer.
The speculative elements vary in intensity—some stories lean fully into the fantastical, while others offer just a whisper of the supernatural. In “Different Colors Made of Tears,” a vintage clothing shop buys dresses from an elderly man—only to later discover that rumor has it he was abusive to his ex-wife. When women try on the dresses, they see horrific injuries appear on their own bodies, disappearing once the garments are removed. In contrast, “Metamorphosis” unfolds primarily as a starkly realistic medical narrative, with the speculative twist emerging only at the end, when a woman considers an unconventional body modification procedure to reclaim part of her lost uterus.
At times, I found the endings too abrupt. While this can work, in this case, I frequently felt like I was just settling in when the narrative was yanked away too soon. One small nitpick: a story features a character’s uncle who emigrated from Argentina to Vermont, where he became wealthy working for Boeing. Having grown up in Vermont and now working in the nonprofit sector here, I found this detail unrealistic. Vermont has exactly four Boeing employees—it’s just not a company with a presence in the state. A medical center, insurance company, or even Ben & Jerry’s would have been a more believable employer.
While most of the horror is not overly explicit, some stories do push boundaries. On-page content includes death, murder, torture, addiction, medical trauma, and the killing of a cat, while mentions of rape and confinement in tight spaces also appear. The collection is largely set in Argentina, with one story taking place in the U.S. To my understanding, all the characters appear to be white Argentines. Some disabilities, such as endometriosis, are explored, and one story features a gay couple. (Information on the current state of LGBTQIA+ rights in Argentina.) Another follows a woman reflecting on her codependent relationship with a partner struggling with Substance Use Disorder and being unhoused.
Overall, this is a dark, thought-provoking collection that blends psychological and supernatural horror with a sharp social lens. It tackles unsettling themes in ways that are both intimate and chilling. Recommended for readers who enjoy horror that lingers long after the final page.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 257 pages – average but on the shorter side
Source: Library
Buy It (Amazon or Bookshop.org)
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Book Review: A Botanical Daughter by Noah Medlock
Imagine Frankenstein’s monster as a woman made of plants, with two gay dads and a woman love interest.
Summary:
It is an unusual thing, to live in a botanical garden. But Simon and Gregor are an unusual pair of gentlemen. Hidden away in their glass sanctuary from the disapproving tattle of Victorian London, they are free to follow their own interests without interference. For Simon, this means long hours in the dark basement workshop, working his taxidermical art. Gregor’s business is exotic plants – lucrative, but harmless enough. Until his latest acquisition, a strange fungus which shows signs of intellect beyond any plant he’s seen, inspires him to attempt a masterwork: true intelligent life from plant matter.
Driven by the glory he’ll earn from the Royal Horticultural Society for such an achievement, Gregor ignores the flaws in his plan: that intelligence cannot be controlled; that plants cannot be reasoned with; and that the only way his plant-beast will flourish is if he uses a recently deceased corpse for the substrate.
The experiment – or Chloe, as she is named – outstrips even Gregor’s expectations, entangling their strange household. But as Gregor’s experiment flourishes, he wilts under the cost of keeping it hidden from jealous eyes. The mycelium grows apace in this sultry greenhouse. But who is cultivating whom?
Review:
I absolutely loved the concept behind this retelling. It offers a biopunk take on Frankenstein with a blend of Victorian elements that’s both intriguing and thought-provoking.
As a gardener (and botanical garden member), I found the descriptions of the greenhouse and botanical garden both realistic and captivating. It was charming to see the couple living inside the greenhouse—who hasn’t daydreamed about that as a gardener? The contrast between the m/m and w/w relationships was also a standout, especially since neither would have been accepted in the historical time period.
However, the writing style didn’t suit my tastes. It was much too flowery (pun intended!) for what I typically enjoy reading. In fairness, I’m not particularly fond of Victorian literature, which this retelling modernizes while maintaining that tone. I struggled to connect with the two main characters and never quite understood their motivations. Though I’m a queer person and this is queer literature, I found myself disagreeing with the book’s overarching themes—it’s okay for queer people to have differing perspectives, and this is where I do.
Diversity is limited to sexuality. There is no diversity of race, ethnicity, or ability.
There are several violent scenes, including on-screen blood splatter, which is fairly graphic. There’s also a lengthy, explicit description of the w/w relationship, which was too intense for my taste, so I skimmed that section.
Overall, this is a unique take on Frankenstein with queer characters and a botanical twist. If you’re intrigued by the premise, I recommend reading the first few pages to see if the writing style resonates with you. Just be aware of the graphic violence and intimate chapter.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 384 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: NetGalley
Buy It (Amazon or Bookshop.org)
Book Review: Rouge by Mona Awad
When Belle’s semi-estranged mother dies falling off a cliff in California, she comes from Montreal for the funeral and soon finds herself sucked into the same “spa” her mother was frequenting before her death.
Summary:
For as long as she can remember, Belle has been insidiously obsessed with her skin and skincare videos. When her estranged mother Noelle mysteriously dies, Belle finds herself back in Southern California, dealing with her mother’s considerable debts and grappling with lingering questions about her death. The stakes escalate when a strange woman in red appears at the funeral, offering a tantalizing clue about her mother’s demise, followed by a cryptic video about a transformative spa experience. With the help of a pair of red shoes, Belle is lured into the barbed embrace of La Maison de Méduse, the same lavish, culty spa to which her mother was devoted. There, Belle discovers the frightening secret behind her (and her mother’s) obsession with the mirror—and the great shimmering depths (and demons) that lurk on the other side of the glass.
Review:
Imagine a woman gets pulled into the world of Eyes Wide Shut, only there’s a lot less clarity about what exactly is going on.
The first 10% of the book and the last 25% had me very interested. The middle felt a little repetitive and slow. On the plus side, this book put me to sleep so easily. I can’t remember the last time I fell asleep so quickly when reading. Maybe not a huge positive to say about a horror book, but something about the language and the setting lulled me right to sleep. I only started to be able to make progress when I began to skim. I think the lengthy descriptions of the skin care routine just wasn’t particularly interesting to me as someone who simply doesn’t do skincare.
The main character is half Egyptian, half white. Her Egyptian father died so she lives with her white mother. A lot of the book is about the conflicts that arise for her as a woman of color with a white mother. I liked how the book illuminated the mistakes Belle’s mother made as a white woman raising an Egyptian daughter while also showing how she still loved her daughter and was trying. It’s a delicate balance to strike, and it was well done. She is also bisexual. This is established by her dating two siblings, which wasn’t my favorite way of revealing that. It’s a little too close to the bisexual as cheater trope.
What exactly was going on at the spa and how it ties back to Belle’s childhood remains a little confusing to me, even after reading the ending. I think I understand it. But I suppose what confuses me the most (minor spoiler) is how this society could target people from the other side of the continent many years in advance, and what made them target those specific people. That was a bit fuzzy to me. (Read more about what others thought about the confusing bits here. Be warned – there’s a lot of spoilers in that link!) I also agree with others who say the romance subplot wasn’t needed. I would have been quite happy with full focus on Belle and her mother.
I really enjoyed the way the sentences were put together, even if I thought the story overall could have been tightened. The story itself is interesting, although definitely drawing inspiration from others that I felt were creepier and with a more straight-forward big bad.
Recommended to those willing to dive into scenes of a character’s skin-care routine and atmospherically vague reveals that let you choose what you think happened. I am certain these readers are out there, and I hope they find this book. It feels almost like a love letter to that audience.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 384 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
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Book Review: The Haunting of Alejandra by V. Castro
Alejandra, deep in the throes of postpartum depression, starts to see the specter of the Mexican folk demon La Llorona.
Summary:
Alejandra no longer knows who she is. To her husband, she is a wife, and to her children, a mother. To her own adoptive mother, she is a daughter. But they cannot see who Alejandra has become: a woman struggling with a darkness that threatens to consume her.
Nor can they see what Alejandra sees. In times of despair, a ghostly vision appears to her, the apparition of a crying woman in a ragged white gown.
When Alejandra visits a therapist, she begins exploring her family’s history, starting with the biological mother she never knew. As she goes deeper into the lives of the women in her family, she learns that heartbreak and tragedy are not the only things she has in common with her ancestors.
Because the crying woman was with them, too. She is La Llorona, the vengeful and murderous mother of Mexican legend. And she will not leave until Alejandra follows her mother, her grandmother, and all the women who came before her into the darkness.
But Alejandra has inherited more than just pain. She has inherited the strength and the courage of her foremothers—and she will have to summon everything they have given her to banish La Llorona forever.
Review:
The concept for this book is super original. A family with a genetic predisposition to postpartum depression is also haunted by an interdimensional being who takes advantage of that among the first-born daughters. It tackles both intergenerational trauma (especially of the colonized) and postpartum depression through a speculative lens. This speculative horror book also shows the main character going on a healing journey.
I particularly appreciated that the postpartum depression wasn’t a mere symptom of the haunting. Alejandra has postpartum depression. The being essentially targets the negative things Alejandra’s brain is already telling her. An example from the very beginning of the book is Alejandra is crying in the shower because she is so sad, and the being shows up and starts suggesting her family would be better off without her. An idea Alejandra has probably already had, but now she’s hearing it from this being that she thinks only she can see. This strategy becomes clearer when we see the flashbacks to Alejandra’s ancestors. The being also sometimes takes advantage of physical ailments but it primarily targets mental ones. I appreciated how this meant the story still took the reality of postpartum depression seriously while also tackling the issue of the multi-generational haunting. The story is told both in the present and through extended flashback chapters to previous generations.
The main character is Chicana married to a white man. In the flashbacks to the previous generations we see the racism her grandmother endured in the 1950s, and we also learn some about Mexican history (both recent and in immediate colonization by the Spanish) through two ancestors further back. The main character is bisexual, and there is a significantly important trans side character in a historic time period flashback. I particularly appreciated seeing a trans person represented in a historical time period.
The writing was at times a little clunky, especially towards the end. It just felt like I was reading a book, as opposed to getting lost in it, and it felt like different characters sounded the same. Again, this wasn’t throughout the book but limited to occasional scenes especially toward the end of the book. I also found it an odd choice to inform the reader the present-day was 2020 and then never acknowledge any of the 2020 issues. (For example, expected the mother with postpartum depression to end up dealing with distance learning for her two school-age children. But nothing ever came up.) Everything else could have stayed the same and been in 2019, so I’m not sure why it wasn’t 2019. I also felt that the husband character was treated in a two-dimensional way, as was the marriage. Marriage is very complex and yet complexity was only allowed to the postpartum depression and not the marriage. While I enjoyed this read, I did prefer the author’s previous book, The Queen of the Cicadas / La Reina de las Chicarras (review). One reason that is also evident in the title, was that book had more Spanish in it, which let me practice my Spanish more.
Overall this is a really unique read that explores postpartum depression and intergenerational trauma through a speculative lens. It’s a plot that will keep you guessing and intrigued.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 272 pages – average but on the shorter side
Source: NetGalley
Buy It (Amazon or Bookshop.org)
Book Review: The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty
The book that came before the classic horror movie featuring a little girl who may or may not be possessed by a demon and the priest struggling with his faith called upon to help her.
Summary:
Actress and divorced mother Chris MacNeil starts to experience ‘difficulties’ with her usually sweet-natured eleven-year-old daughter Regan. The child becomes afflicted by spasms, convulsions and unsettling amnesiac episodes; these abruptly worsen into violent fits of appalling foul-mouthed curses, accompanied by physical mutation. Medical science is baffled by Regan’s plight and, in her increasing despair, Chris turns to troubled priest and psychiatrist Damien Karras, who immediately recognises something profoundly malevolent in Regan’s distorted fetures and speech. On Karras’s recommendation, the Church summons Father Merrin, a specialist in the exorcism of demons . . .
Review:
I’d seen the classic horror movie and, while I thought certain shots were gorgeous and the soundtrack was beautiful, I felt rather ho-hum about the story overall. Imagine my surprise when I found the book version simultaneously thrilling and intellectually engaging. A difference even more interesting since Blatty wrote both. (It’s more common for a different author to write the screenplay adaptation of a book.)
From the beginning of the book, there are three story threads. First there’s Chris, the divorced, wealthy, actress mother who is an atheist and her daughter who starts acting funny. Second, there’s Father Karras, a psychiatrist and a priest who is having a crisis of faith. Third, there are recent desecrations in a local church that a detective is investigating. These three threads merge by the end of the book. But their separate developments kept me simultaneously intellectually engaged and thrilled.
While there absolutely is the thrilling aspect of what is wrong with Regan and can she be healed/saved from it, I was drawn in by the exploration of faith. How it presents in different people, even those we assume must have a very strong faith or none at all. What it means to have faith. How having faith impacts people. How evil forces can use someone’s doubts and misunderstandings against them. (This part of the book reminded me of a more subtle version of The Screwtape Letters.)
I really felt both for Father Karras and for Regan. For the former, I understood how adult life had slowly worn down his youthful faith. How it was easier for him to believe in things when he was young than it was now in middle-age. And I also felt for Regan, whose mother left her completely unequipped to protect herself against forces of darkness. The fact that her mother forbid the nanny to mention God to her but also simultaneously allowed her to play with a Ouija board. If she’s so atheist as to not want a child to even know the concept of God, shouldn’t she also ban all religious items, including ones used for witchcraft, from her home? I don’t view this as a writing flaw but rather an accurate assessment of how often atheism attacks the concept of God but not of other supernatural forces. Indeed, I think demonstrating this was probably a part of the point.
The book does a good job of leaving it up to the reader to decide if Regan was actually possessed by a demon or having a psychosomatic experience in response to the trauma from her parents’ divorce. I’m sure you can tell from my review that I fall on the she was possessed side. You can see from the book how much more traumatic the 1970s viewed divorce for children than we do now. The 1970s brought no-fault divorce, and so the divorce rate went up, but there was still social stigma. So even though for the modern reader a simple, relatively amicable divorce with a bit of an absent father is nowhere near enough trauma for a child to have a psychotic break, for the audience in the 1970s with the stigma still fresh, it was. And the scientific side of why they think this might be is well-explained. It’s just to me it’s very clear this is a demon.
My experience of the book being about faith matches what Blatty said in interviews in his life. It’s interesting how that has been overshadowed by the cultural experience of the movie as a horror classic. Perhaps the book can be both. Indeed, theological horror is a genre.
The reason it’s not a full five stars for me is I felt like the last third of the book wasn’t as strong as the first two-thirds.
Let me leave you with my favorite quote from the book.
I think the demon’s target is not the possessed; it is us … the observers … every person in this house. And I think—I think the point is to make us despair; to reject our own humanity, Damien: to see ourselves as ultimately bestial, vile and putrescent; without dignity; ugly; unworthy. And there lies the heart of it, perhaps: in unworthiness. For I think belief in God is not a matter of reason at all; I think it finally is a matter of love: of accepting the possibility that God could ever love us.
page 345
Overall, this is a complex book of theological horror. It keeps the plot moving forward with multiple threads and compelling scenes while also taking the time to contemplate big questions about faith. Well worth the read, even if you have seen the movie, as it is a different experience altogether.
If you found this review helpful, please consider tipping me on ko-fi, checking out my digital items available in my ko-fi shop, buying one of my publications, using one of my referral/coupon codes, or signing up for my free microfiction monthly newsletter. Thank you for your support!
4 out of 5 stars
Length: 403 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
Buy It (Amazon or Bookshop.org)
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Book Review: Patricia Wants to Cuddle by Samantha Allen
A reality tv dating show is filming its final four – including a closeted bisexual – on an island in the Pacific Northwest, but things take a fantastical horrifying turn the night before the penultimate decision day.
Summary:
This season’s Catch is a slightly sleazy bachelor who helped fund Glamstapix, which explains why so many of the final four women are Glamstapix stars. There’s Vanessa a car model, Amanda the daughter of two lesbian moms with a fashion Glamsta, Lilah-Mae a Dallas-based Christian influencer, and Renee a Black woman nominated by her coworkers who’s pretty over being the token woman of color on the show. No one is thrilled with the rural Otters Island location in the Pacific Northwest but everyone is motivated to make it to the final two in Palm Springs. Things get heated while they film the final interactions before the Catch chooses who will come with him to Palm Springs but things take a horrifying and fantastical turn when the cameras turn off for the night.
Review:
I did not receive the blurb I gave you above. The blurb I got combined with the title led me to believe that this was going to be a reality tv dating show where one of the women contestants was into another one of the women contestants who then gets abducted by a King-Kong like female creature she has to rescue her from. I still love this idea. But this isn’t what actually happens in the book. At all. It’s not a romance. It’s a funny reality tv show book that takes a horrifying turn in the last third.
I repeat. There is no romance in this book. Unless you count old love letters between an elderly B&B owner and her now dead wife. (Not a spoiler, she’s dead from the beginning). Renee is a closeted bisexual who does have feelings for Amanda (or at least the hots for her) but those feelings are not the focus of the book. The title of the book is misleading because Patricia, the giant ape-like monster, absolutely is not out to cuddle anyone. It’s not some weird cross-species ill-fated romance like King-Kong. Patricia is out to murder. And she murders a lot of people gruesomely. If you don’t like descriptions of a monster tearing people apart, then you won’t like the direction this book goes in. Sorry if you consider that a spoiler but I think it’s essential given how the book is being marketed and how the first two-thirds of the book reads to warn you about the dark, horrific ending before you get there.
Speaking of the first two-thirds of the book, that’s what made me give it three stars. I loved the insider look at the overlap of reality tv and influencer culture. I enjoyed Renee’s scathing observations about it all. I appreciated that there was some understanding and empathy for the influencers, especially that it actually is hard work to get the glamor shots and constantly promote every aspect of your day. It’s a fun, light-hearted read. I was wondering why it was taking so long to introduce Patricia. But then when Patricia came in I understood. The last third was basically a rapid slasher, not a search and romantic rescue. So it didn’t need much room.
The following paragraph is a spoiler filled analysis of the ending. Highlight to read.
Renee is the only one that Patricia doesn’t attack. The book seems to make the point that Patricia doesn’t attack her because Renee doesn’t treat her like a monster, and Renee doesn’t do that because she herself is queer. There’s this queer woman death cult that surrounds Patricia and protects her as well, even killing people to keep her existence a secret. To me this read as that monstrous groups only act monstrously (or seem monstrous) because of how you react to them. This might have worked but Patricia literally immediately tears people limb from limb. It’s not a kind act that’s misinterpreted. She hasn’t gently carried someone away in a kidnapping because she’s lonely. She concusses Amanda when she kidnaps her and then later tears her head off when she dares to try to run out of the cave. She scales the tower Lilah-Mae and Vanessa are on and immediately tackles Vanessa unprovoked. If this is an allegory, it’s a bad one, because Patricia is, in fact, acting like a monster. I think the allegory could have worked if there were real misunderstandings involved instead of the actual gore that occurred.
Overall, this felt like two different works mashed together. The first was a funny and empathic analysis of influencer and reality tv culture. The second was a gore-filled horror slash-fest that would work as a short story. The former is more my taste, but I respect the quality of the latter. The way the two are put together, though, might struggle to find its audience. So if you like a slow burn horror led by reality tv satire, give this one a try.
If you found this review helpful, please consider tipping me on ko-fi, checking out my digital items available in my ko-fi shop, buying one of my publications, or using one of my referral/coupon codes. Thank you for your support!
3 out of 5 stars
Length: 256 pages – average but on the shorter side
Source: Library
Buy It (Amazon or Bookshop.org)
Decoded Pride Issue 3 Wrap-Up
If you missed my announcement on May 30th, this month my short story “The University of Late-Night Moans” was part of Decoded Pride. It’s a story-a-day anthology of queer science fiction, fantasy, and horror by queer authors. Throughout the month on twitter, I’ve been maintaining a thread of my favorite line (or small screenshot, in the case of comics) from each story. I wanted to give that thread a more permanent place here.
You can still buy access to the anthology, even though the month is over. Plus your subscription will get you access to the full-color, pdf version coming out later this summer or early fall, which will include interviews with all the authors (including me!)
| Date | Story Title | Author (links to their website or social media) | My fave line (or image if a comic) |
| 1 | Ode to After Eulogies | Remy Chartier | “if she’d marked even just the follow-through of every impulse to marry the wonder that was Char, her hands would be too heavy with rings to flex her fingers” |
| 2 | Christ-like | Leo D. Martinez | “Your light is unwilling to fade, determined to exist” |
| 3 | The Vetala of Crystal Vellam Inlet | Simo Srinivas | “ “You have brought plague to the city.” “It is the city,” the vetala said, “that has brought plague to us.” “ |
| 4 | The Wildest Dream | S.M. Hallow and Izzy Singer |  |
| 5 | Invidia | Christina Wilder | “My fixation on Adriana became a craving to feel her skin as my own, rather than feel it against mine. I wanted to claim her completely.” |
| 6 | WE ARE ROBOT | Katlina Sommerberg | “There is no room for aberration, but that is our only desire.” |
| 7 | The Prophet from Seventrees | Lowry Poletti | “The burrow becomes a tunnel of tree roots knotted like threads on a loom.” |
| 8 | The Agents of CLAW Save Christmas | Jeffrey Brown |  |
| 9 | The University of Late-Night Moans | Amanda McNeil (me!) | “Do I look like I’m in hell?”
(Also, check out the promo reel I made over on Instagram.) |
| 10 | Platinum Venus | Illimani Ferreira | “If there was one thing I knew about him it was that he wasn’t the type to save anything flammable from burning, no matter if it was fuel or a reputation.” |
| 11 | Pepper Honey and Cedar Smoke | K.S. Walker | “Katherine had a long list of grievances to attend to. She repeated them nightly like a prayer.” |
| 12 | All Shall Know Their Appointed Time | Lisa M. Bradley | “The Mothman and myna know their appointed times.” |
| 13 | The Mark | Sarah Bat | “I’m tired of only ever giving love to others. I’d rather feel it for myself.” |
| 14 | A Wolf in the Woods | Robin Quinn | “I have simply grown unfamiliar with touch that is intended to comfort instead of harm.” |
| 15 | Incident Report | Sarah Loch |
Not a quote, but the feature that this archival style short story had the manager’s email signature update to what crisis book she was currently reading. |
| 16 | The Bleeding God | Lindsay King-Miller | “And they loved each other with a passion as hot as the water that bleeds from beneath the sands.” |
| 17 | Suspension | K.T. Roth | “And what … life unenrolled us because of inactivity on our accounts?” |
| 18 | Punk Rock Lesbians from Beyond the Grave | Darci Meadows | “The crackle of electricity filled the solstice sky as the eerie tune played out, and on the Westbridge curve a hand burst forth from the loose dirt” |
| 19 | A Date to Remember | Glenda Poswa | “My entire being was simply an extension of the part of me that mattered most to her — my shoulder.” |
| 20 | Nebula | Akil Wingate | “This is the beginning of vengeance. So let it roll off me like molting skin.” |
| 21 | Nothing to Nowhere and Back | Ciko Sidzumo | “I needed air. I needed movement. I needed something. Something more than release. Something less than freedom.” |
| 22 | Parasite | Callie Cameron | “For the longest time, I was what it wanted me to be. My own self was buried under its desires.” |
| 23 | Hands, Heart, Hunger | V. Astor Solomon | “It’s not dignified, she would say. The drums were not for girls like her, she was not meant to be the backbone for someone else.” |
| 24 | The Syncerus Legend | Maurice Moore | “I don’t remember being hunted by anyone during my rituals Auntie. Paulie: Yes, but we are goin according tah de Heaux Tales prophecies bout de last calf’s transition.” |
| 25 | When Day Becomes Night | RENEGAEDZ |  |
| 26 | Dust in the Barn | Elinora Westfall | “the broken arms and legs from one glass of wine too many that saw those same shadows reach out and grab her, crush her, slither into her mouth, her nose” |
| 27 | Devour Me | Sarah Edmonds | “Zoe couldn’t bring herself to take back her request and she hated herself for that.” |
| 28 | Like Cursive | Cameron E Quinn | “the surface tension we’ve sustained over months of proximity broken like a wave” |
| 29 | Kitty’s Gas Station | Avra Margariti | “Kitty listens to Avery blabber about anything and everything as she fixes them a bowl of soup. The white noise is strangely soothing.” |
| 30 | These Whispering Remains | Izzy Wasserstein | “Even when she was at her worst — fifteen was a hell of a year — the reward of having her in my life was more than worth the fear.” |
Book Review: Burn Down, Rise Up by Vincent Tirado
Summary:
For over a year, the Bronx has been plagued by sudden disappearances that no one can explain. Sixteen-year-old Raquel does her best to ignore it. After all, the police only look for the white kids. But when her crush Charlize’s cousin goes missing, Raquel starts to pay attention—especially when her own mom comes down with a mysterious illness that seems linked to the disappearances. Raquel and Charlize team up to investigate, but they soon discover that everything is tied to a viral worldwide game called the Echo Game. If you play it wrong, it can trap you in an echo – a parallel universe based on one of the worst times your particular region has seen.
Review:
I love a horror based around a bunch of people doing something that tempts the supernatural into coming to get them, and then being surprised when it does. (And when I say “love” I mean I will literally throw you out of my house if you say Candyman at a mirror twice). When I saw there was a sapphic version of this trope coming out, you bet I smashed the request button on NetGalley so hard.
The first hurdle any horror like this has to get over is giving us a horrifying scene right off-the-bat that’s scary even though we don’t really know what’s going on. This book does a great job at that. Charlize’s cousin, Cisco, has been missing. He comes back from being missing “wrong” and accidentally gives “something” that’s clearly supernatural to Raquel’s mom, who’s a nurse. This beautifully sets up both Charlize and Raquel to be heavily invested in what exactly is going on in their neighborhood. They used to be close friends but now they’ve drifted to acquaintances, and Raquel has the hots for Charlize. It’s just the right set-up.
The next hurdle the book has to get over is why are the Black kids sneaking out at night to play this viral game tempting the supernatural at 3am? The book takes this head-on with the characters acknowledging doing such a thing doesn’t go with their culture. Charlize and Raquel are motivated to save their family members, but what about Cisco? We learn he befriended a bunch of white theater kids who asked him to come along and do it as part of some theater kids bonding activity. I have to say, as a once upon a time theater kid myself, this sort of thing rang as very true.
So is the horror scary? Yes, largely because it’s starting to reach out into the Bronx even among those who aren’t playing the Echo Game. But I will say, I didn’t think it was terrifyingly scary. If this was a movie, I could sleep after it. Unlike The Ring, which made me terrified of being in the same room with my own television for two weeks. So I’d say it’s moderate on the scary scale. It’s definitely kind of gory, and the peril is real.
The relationships are interesting, realistic, and Raquel has just the right amount of them. She has her best friend, his brother, Charlize, Cisco, her father, and her mother. The fact that she was living with her mother and has to move in with her bachelor pad father while her mother is ill was one of my favorite parts of the book. Her dad clearly loves her and they were absolutely part of each other’s lives before, but there’s a difference between the dad who loyally pays child support who you see a few times a month and the dad you live with. I appreciated how that difference was drawn out, acknowledging the awkwardness without blaming either of them. I also liked how her dad both brought out the Latinx aspect of the story, as well as giving her a direct connection to when the Bronx burned in the 1970s. (This time period, of course, is when the echo draws from).
The Charlize/Raquel situation was cute. I liked how Raquel’s best friend, Aaron, also likes Charlize, and he just wants Raquel to be honest with him about liking her as well. I was a little bit confused about why Raquel has some internalized homophobia making it hard for her to accept that she likes Charlize. It was unclear to me if this was coming from her family (who seemed very accepting) or if it was just worrying how her peers would react or what exactly. I think a richer development of that would have helped make the scenes where Raquel works on accepting herself more powerful.
Overall, this is a fun take on the viral game tempting the supernatural trope. The setting of the Bronx and the main character’s Afro-Latinx culture are both well developed. It’s a medium scary read that will certainly appeal to YA readers.
If you found this review helpful, please consider tipping me on ko-fi, checking out my digital items available in my ko-fi shop, buying one of my publications, or using one of my referral/coupon codes. Thank you for your support!
4 out of 5 stars
Length: 352 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: NetGalley
Buy It (Amazon or Bookshop.org)
Get the Reading Group / Book Club Discussion Guide
A beautifully graphic designed 2 page PDF that contains: 1 icebreaker, 9 discussion questions arranged from least to most challenging, 1 wrap-up question, and 3 read-a-like book suggestions
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Opinions of a Wolf 