A Book A Week

As October draws to a close (seriously, how is the month already over?), I’m wrapping up my annual attempt to cram in as many spooky reads as possible. Inevitably, my “to be read” stack is still taller than the list of books I’ve actually finished, but with one day left in the month, I was determined to squeeze in just one more. The perfect pick appeared in Ghosts of Grayhaven by Amy Newbold and Lark Wright. It’s a quick, ghostly novella tailor-made for the season. Even better, Lark Wright happens to be one of my most trusted book-blogging buddies. Knowing her taste, I had a feeling I was in for a treat.

Mariah has arrived in Grayhaven, a small Pacific Northwest town that feels like it was plucked straight from a Hallmark movie, with a singular focus. She’s been hired by an anonymous client to locate the grave of Bartholomew Krane, chip away at its inscription, and recite an ancient spell. It sounds absurd… if she actually believed in any of it. For Mariah, it’s simply another job.

But things change when she meets Zeb, a local who’s inherited his family’s long-standing duty to protect the very grave Mariah’s been sent to deface. When she carries out her assignment, Mariah unknowingly unleashes a vengeful spirit with centuries-old rage. Now, she and Zeb—along with his loyal dog, Moose—must find a way to put the spirit to rest before the entire town becomes its next victim.

Ghosts of Grayhaven is the perfect little novella to cap off spooky season. It’s a quick read with a clever plot that flows effortlessly from page to page. Sure, it leans on a few familiar tropes, but that’s part of its charm. Author duo Amy Newbold and Lark Wright, sisters who were inspired by their shared hobby of exploring old cemeteries, infuse the story with both heart and atmosphere. I was instantly drawn in and read the entire novella in a single sitting. Ghosts of Grayhaven delivers adventure, humor, a touch of will-they-won’t-they romance, and just the right amount of spooky to satisfy even the most cautious readers. It’s a reminder that sometimes the best stories to end spooky season aren’t the scariest ones, but the ones that make you smile when you turn the final page.

For more information, visit Amy Newbold's website, Lark Wright's blog, Amazon, and Goodreads.

(2025, 86)

Some authors are born to tell stories. Joe Hill practically had no choice. As the son of Stephen King, he could’ve coasted on a famous name, but instead, he built his own empire of horror and heartbreak. Over the years, he’s crafted sprawling, genre-bending novels like N0S4A2 and The Fireman that left a lasting impression on me. It’s been several years since his last release, so I’ve been not-so-patiently waiting for another. That wait finally ended this week with King Sorrow, a nearly 900-page behemoth that draws on Arthurian legend to thrill, haunt, and completely consume readers anew. 

To attempt to summarize the breadth of King Sorrow would be futile. It’s an epic in every sense, sprawling across twenty-five years and a cast of six central characters whose fates are bound by blood, guilt, and something far older than any of them can comprehend. But here’s the gist. Arthur is a student and aspiring author working in his university’s library when he crosses paths with a group of shady opportunists. Their plan? To steal from the library’s collection of rare and historic books and sell the treasures for a quick profit.

Desperate to free himself from the mess he’s been dragged into, Arthur turns to his closest friends for help. Together, they hatch a plan that blurs the line between legend and madness. They plot to use one of the stolen texts—a centuries-old volume known as the Crane Journal, said to be bound in the very skin of its author—to summon a dragon to protect them. But their wish comes with a cost. To keep the dragon’s loyalty, they must offer it a soul every year. Fail to pay the price, and the creature will simply feast on one of their own instead. 

King Sorrow finds Joe Hill doing what he does best, spinning a story rich with mythology, layered characters, and a truly terrifying dragon at its core. When Hill’s publisher offered me a copy to review, I was hesitant at first. For someone who reads a book a week, a novel clocking in at nearly 900 pages is no small commitment. But I trusted Hill, and for the first few hundred pages, that trust felt well placed. The story moved with energy and confidence, rewarding my patience with moments of pure awe.

But then it kept going. And going. Somewhere around the midpoint, my connection to the characters and the story began to wane. The highs of this book are undeniable—there are scenes that will absolutely take your breath away—but the sheer length dulled their impact for me. It’s an epic with an epic scale, and I suspect many readers will be completely swept away by it. I just wasn’t one of them.

Hill has said he plans to release a new book every year for the next decade, promising the next one will be shorter. As a longtime fan, I’ll be there for it. For now, King Sorrow was simply too much book for me to handle.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 85)

We’re deep into October now, and while the Texas heat refuses to loosen its grip, I’m not letting that stop me from sinking into some spooky reads. I first discovered Ania Ahlborn’s work last year with her deeply disturbing yet surprisingly moving novel, Brother. I was struck by the way she blended gruesome horror with emotionally complex characters, and I vowed to read more from her. Ahlborn's newest release, The Unseen, trades the slasher-style terror of Brother for something more insidious. It's a domestic horror story that festers in paranoia and the quiet unraveling of ordinary life.

Isla Hansen is trapped in the kind of grief only a mother who has lost a child can know. Her husband, Luke, and their five remaining children can do little to console her. Everything shifts when an orphaned boy appears on the outskirts of their secluded Colorado property. The child is strange. There’s no other word for it. His features are angular, almost otherworldly, and he’s completely mute, apparently traumatized by whatever horrors he faced before being found. At least, that’s what the social worker says.

Luke can’t shake the sense of unease the boy brings with him, but for grieving Isla, his arrival feels like an answer to her prayers. With no family of his own, she’s convinced they can offer him a home and make him the sixth child in their lives, completing their family once and for all.

But as the boy settles in, strange things begin to happen. Luke and the children notice unsettling details—small at first, then impossible to ignore—signs that something is deeply wrong inside their home. And the more the Hansens try to understand who the boy really is, the closer they edge toward a truth far darker than they ever imagined.

With The Unseen, Ania Ahlborn writes the kind of horror that seeps under your skin, unsettling you from somewhere deep within. It’s a deceptively simple setup. The story feels familiar. We’ve all read or watched versions of the “creepy child enters an unsuspecting family’s life” trope. But in Ahlborn’s hands, it becomes something more.

The Unseen isn’t just a horror story. It’s a meditation on grief, family, and the loss of innocence. It’s a slow burn, one that compels you forward through rich character work and a suffocating sense of paranoia that lurks beneath every page. By the time you grasp the full extent of the horror, it’s already too late. I didn’t love the way things wrapped up, but I absolutely loved the lead-up. Ahlborn proves once again that she can twist familiar fears into something deeply personal and profoundly disturbing. Go ahead and add The Unseen to your spooky season reading list. You’ll be glad (and maybe a little terrified) that you did.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 82)

For 35 years, Patricia Cornwell has thrilled, educated, and horrified readers with her bestselling series featuring forensic pathologist Kay Scarpetta. I’ve been along for the ride through many of those books, always eager to check in with her familiar cast of characters. One of the things I’ve always admired about Cornwell is the way she grounds her stories in the present day, leaning into new technologies and finding fresh, believable ways to terrify her readers. Sharp Force, the 29th novel in the series, is no exception. It blends cutting-edge science, an intriguing mystery, and a cast that’s hard to resist. When the publisher offered me a copy, I jumped at the chance to see where Scarpetta’s latest case would lead.

There’s no rest for the weary, even on Christmas Eve, and Kay Scarpetta has long accepted that as fact. As the chief medical examiner for the state of Virginia, she’s used to being called in at inconvenient times. Her husband, Benton Wesley, is a secret agent, so the pair are accustomed to last-minute emergencies upending their plans. This year, though, they’ve vowed to finally take a vacation. It’s Christmas, after all. Kay just needs to finish one final autopsy, deliver the victim’s personal effects to the family, and she’ll be ready to relax. Benton has already called, delayed but not deterred by the winter storm hammering the city.

As she prepares to leave the office, Kay realizes the weather is far worse than she expected. And of course, she’s already promised to personally deliver the victim’s belongings to the family. It's a small act of compassion that reminds her that the people on her table are more than just bodies beneath her scalpel. Thankfully, Marino, the gruff former homicide detective turned investigator for the medical examiner’s office—and, awkwardly, Kay’s brother-in-law—arrives in his truck to chauffeur her across the city. He’s worked up, as usual, this time about the latest sighting of the “Phantom Slasher,” a figure who’s been terrorizing the city for months.

The slasher’s MO is chilling. He disables the victims’ Wi-Fi before attacking them in bed, brutally stabbing and biting them to death. Each scene is meticulously bleached to erase DNA evidence, and witnesses report seeing a ghostly figure in black levitating through the fog. Now, the phantom has been spotted at the home of TV journalist and eternal thorn in Kay’s side, Dana Deletti. Could Dana be the killer’s next victim? Kay isn’t sure, but she knows the media frenzy surrounding this case is about to explode. With the threat of another murder looming and a storm closing in, it’s clear her long-awaited vacation may be slipping further out of reach.

Sharp Force sees Patricia Cornwell firing on all cylinders, and it’s no wonder why. The 29th installment in the Kay Scarpetta series brings together everything longtime readers love, while still working perfectly as a standalone. That accessibility is what makes this series so enduring. You don’t have to read every book to follow along, but no matter where you dip in, you’re guaranteed to be entertained.

Cornwell has always been at the forefront of technology, treating each new innovation as an opportunity to elevate her mysteries and anchor them firmly in the present. In a world where any question can be answered with a quick search on the phone in our pocket, her ability to craft genuine enigmas feels especially impressive. In Sharp Force, the central threat—a seemingly ghostly apparition—is chilling. Kay knows, rationally, that ghosts aren’t real, but that doesn’t make facing one any easier. It’s that interplay between logic and raw human fear that fuels much of the story’s tension.

Cornwell ties it all together with an unsettling gothic setting at a psychiatric hospital and a cast of characters whose tangled relationships and emotions give the novel real depth. The result is a story as strong as any of the best in this long-running series. And with a TV adaptation of Scarpetta set to debut early next year, Sharp Force is a thrilling reminder of why I can’t get enough of this character.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 80)

It’s the 1990s, and video rental stores are king. In a small Iowa town, the mom-and-pop Video Hut holds its own against the threat of a shiny new Hollywood Video in the next city over. For Jeremy, who mans the counter, it’s not a bad gig. It's steady enough business to keep the lights on, and the owner, Sarah Jane, lets him watch as many movies as he wants. Things change when a customer returns a VHS of Targets, an old Boris Karloff film, claiming “something’s on it.” Jeremy dismisses it at first. After all, old tapes tend to wear out over time. But when another customer reports a similar issue on a copy of She’s All That, curiosity wins out.

In the middle of the rom-com, the screen briefly cuts to black before flickering into a black-and-white scene: a barn, a camera left running, the faint sound of someone breathing. Four minutes later, the movie resumes. Disturbed but transfixed, Jeremy rewinds and watches the clip repeatedly. The footage on Targets is similar—grainy, unsettling, and clearly made by the same hand. Worse, the barn looks awfully familiar, like one just outside town. Jeremy wants nothing to do with it, but once Sarah Jane sees the tapes, she urges him to dig deeper. For Jeremy and those around him, life in their quiet town will never be the same.

I have to admit, I’m still not sure I can make complete sense of John Darnielle’s Universal Harvester. The premise suggests a kind of found-footage horror story, but that’s not quite what the novel delivers. In fact, part of me felt a little betrayed by the summary. It wasn’t the story I expected going in. And yet, I tore through the book in just a couple of sittings, completely absorbed by Darnielle’s prose and the richly drawn characters he conjures. The question, of course, is to what end? Is this a nostalgic meditation, a story about grief, a slow-burning mystery laced with unease? Maybe it’s all three. Or maybe it’s none of them. In the end, Universal Harvester resists easy categorization, leaving readers to decide for themselves what it ultimately means. I guess some stories aren’t meant to resolve neatly. Some exist to make you question, haunting your thoughts long after you’ve closed the book.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 77)

There’s a phenomenon that tends to crop up in long-running horror franchises. After a while, the formula gets stale. Desperate to recapture former glory, the creators throw the rulebook out the window and attempt a reinvention. Think Friday the 13th's Jason X, where Jason slashes his way through a spaceship, or Wes Craven’s New Nightmare, where Freddy breaks through the fourth wall to stalk the cast of a movie based on Nightmare on Elm Street.

Adam Cesare’s Clown in a Cornfield 2: Frendo Lives didn’t quite recapture the lightning-in-a-bottle energy of the first novel, but it ended with a compelling tease that hinted at something bold. Against my better judgment, I dove into Clown in a Cornfield 3: The Church of Frendo, curious to see how Cesare would land this trilogy. Like its cinematic horror counterparts, this final installment takes a sharp left turn into new territory—but does it work?

Picking up where book two’s epilogue left off, we find Quinn Maybrook on a mission. No longer just a survivor, she’s become a hunter, tracking down the violent disciples of Frendo across the country. But what began as vigilante justice becomes something far more ominous as she uncovers just how deeply the cult of Frendo has taken root. Back in her hometown, the clown has transformed from a symbol of chaos into the central figure of a burgeoning religion—one fueled by the same hate and extremism that first sparked the bloodshed.

Clown in a Cornfield 3: The Church of Frendo is Adam Cesare at his most unhinged and ambitious. It’s wild, grim, and over-the-top in a way that pays homage to horror’s most infamous third acts. Not everything lands, but there’s a certain satisfaction in seeing the trilogy go out swinging, embracing the bizarre while still holding onto the raw, bloody heart that made the original so memorable. If nothing else, it proves Cesare is unafraid to take risks—and in horror, that counts for a lot.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 38)

There’s something liberating about hitting the open road, leaving behind schedules and responsibilities, if only for a little while. Just you, your thoughts, and the miles stretching ahead. Of course, reality has its limits—gas, speed limits, food, and sleep all play a role—but for a brief moment, a road trip can feel like the perfect escape from life’s burdens.

For Livia and her friends, that escape is precisely what they need. Reeling from the discovery of her husband’s affair, Livia is desperate to get away, and her friends are more than willing to help her forget her troubles for a few days. Their trip through the Cascade foothills of Central Oregon starts as a simple getaway, but a reckless tow truck driver tailing them turns their carefree ride into something far more unsettling.

Hoping to lose him, they veer onto County Road 95, an unremarkable backroad with a chilling local reputation. Known as The Devil’s Driveway, the 15-mile stretch quickly turns their road trip into a nightmare. What starts as a detour soon becomes a desperate fight for survival, pushing the four women to the edge of their sanity. And with every twist and turn, something even more terrifying waits ahead.

I was immediately drawn to the concept of a haunted highway and gladly accepted the audiobook version of White Line Fever from K.C. Jones’ publisher. Kate Hanford’s expert narration added a chilling urgency to the story, keeping me hooked and looking for any excuse to keep listening. Jones gradually unveils the full scope of the horror his characters face, starting with eerie instances of lost time, dissociation, and hallucinations before escalating into true, unrelenting terror.

Throughout the novel, Jones weaves in flashbacks to Livia’s past, adding depth to her character. While I appreciated these insights, they occasionally disrupted the pacing, and I often found myself more eager to return to the escalating tension on the road. Still, White Line Fever hurtles toward a harrowing climax that delivers thrills and meaningful character growth. A solid horror thriller, it’s an especially gripping listen.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 23)

Some are born with the gift. Others have it thrust upon them. Olivia never expected to possess it at all. The ability to commune with the dead had always belonged to her sister, Naiche. But when Naiche died under mysterious circumstances, that gift transferred to Olivia, a final, unasked-for inheritance that changed her life forever.

Olivia has fully embraced her abilities, becoming a sought-after paranormal investigator. But the loss of Naiche still leaves an ache she can’t shake. When she’s called to investigate unsettling occurrences at the historic Brown Palace Hotel in Denver, she assumes it will be just another routine haunting. But this case is anything but ordinary. Every few years, a woman is found dead in room 904, no matter which room she initially checked into.

As Olivia delves into the chilling pattern of deaths, the past and present begin to blur. Her investigation pulls her into the orbit of a mysterious cult, a relentless journalist, betrayals from those she trusts, and shocking secrets about Naiche’s hidden life. What started as a ghost hunt quickly becomes something far more dangerous and personal.

In The Haunting of Room 904, Erika T. Wurth weaves a deeply personal tale of family, grief, and cultural identity within the framework of a gripping paranormal thriller. From the start, the eerie atmosphere sets the stage, evoking the unsettling tension of The Conjuring films. While the supernatural elements are undeniably chilling—delivering plenty of moments to send shivers down your spine—it’s the richly drawn, diverse cast that makes this novel stand out.

Wurth seamlessly integrates Indigenous history, particularly the lasting impact of the Sand Creek Massacre, alongside nuanced representations of LGBTQ+ and Jewish identities. These layers of cultural and historical depth unfold organically, adding weight and resonance beyond the scares. Through the terror, Wurth challenges readers to reflect on identity, politics, and belonging. The pacing isn’t always even, but the novel remains compelling and thought-provoking—a haunting on multiple levels.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 22)

Stay with me on this train of thought. I find a certain comfort in the thrill of a classic slasher movie. I know what you’re thinking: How do you find comfort in something meant to terrify you? Fair question. But hear me out.

I’ve always enjoyed those formulaic horror films, you know, the ones where an unsuspecting victim is relentlessly pursued by a crazed maniac, hellbent on destruction. Classics like Halloween, Friday the 13th, and Scream perfected this formula, and while modern slashers often follow in their footsteps, there's something undeniably satisfying about watching these familiar beats play out. The predictability isn’t a flaw. It’s part of the fun, a rhythm I can sink into as I let the latest variation work its magic.

In the literary world, I've enjoyed how authors like Stephen Graham Jones and Christopher Golden have made their mark by honoring horror’s beloved tropes while carving out fresh, inventive narratives. Now I can add Adam Cesare’s Clown in a Cornfield to that list. His take on the teen slasher is bold, gruesome, and instantly gripping. It lures you in with its familiarity, only to keep you hooked with its clever twists on a well-worn genre.

Kettle Springs is the kind of small Midwestern town that time forgot. Nestled among sprawling cornfields, it’s littered with remnants of what it once was. The now-vacant Baypen Corn Syrup Factory looms over the landscape, a stark monument to economic collapse and the deepening rift between generations. Even more prominent is the town’s faded mascot, Frendo, a grinning clown in a porkpie hat, his image still plastered on buildings and rusting signs, a ghost of better days. The older generation clings desperately to the past, determined to make Kettle Springs great again. The younger generation couldn’t care less. They’re just trying to have fun and escape as soon as possible.

For Quinn Maybrook and her father, Kettle Springs represents a fresh start, something they both need after the death of Quinn’s mother. Her father has traded his high-pressure job as an ER doctor for the slower pace of life as the town’s primary physician. But Quinn isn’t exactly thrilled. This sleepy, dead-end town wasn’t what she had in mind for a new beginning. At this point, her only goal is to keep her head down and make it to graduation.

But Kettle Springs has other plans.

The town’s simmering tensions reach a boiling point when a masked killer—dressed as Frendo himself—decides that the best way to restore Kettle Springs to its former glory is to rid the town of the rotten kids who live there now. Suddenly, Quinn finds herself caught in the crossfire of a town at war with itself, running for her life in a place she never wanted to call home in the first place. 

With Clown in a Cornfield, Adam Cesare uses the framework of a classic slasher to explore small-town politics, grief, and the inevitability of progress. It’s a story that feels both timeless and eerily relevant, capturing the political divide of our current moment. Sure, it gets a bit over-the-top at times, and the climax ties things up a little too neatly, but I didn’t care. Cesare delivers a brutal, fast-paced horror novel that had me completely hooked. He brings classic slasher tropes into the modern era in a way that feels fresh, subverting expectations just enough to keep things unpredictable. With two more books in the series already out and a film adaptation coming later this year, Clown in a Cornfield is a bonafide hit. It's a fun, clever horror novel that has me eager for more.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 20)

Even though the spooky season has ended, my appetite for creepy books remains unabated. Jason Rekulak's Hidden Pictures generated quite a buzz when it hit the shelves last year. This thrilling work with a touch of horror captured readers' imaginations and secured a spot on my ever-expanding TBR list. Although it languished on my stack of library books for most of October, patiently awaiting my attention, I've finally found the time to dive into it. I'm even more happy to confirm that the excitement surrounding this book is entirely justified.

Mallory Quinn has hit rock bottom and is now determined to climb her way back up. She's successfully completed a rehab program, taking control of her drug addiction and resolving to lead a clean and honest life moving forward. With her recovery firmly on track, Mallory is now prepared to embark on the next phase of rebuilding her life: seeking stable employment. Her sponsor introduces her to a family needing a live-in nanny for their young son. This potential opportunity could be the perfect stepping stone for Mallory as she transitions into this new chapter of her life.

Ted and Caroline Maxwell approach the decision to hire Mallory with justifiable caution. They are well aware of her troubled past, and while they are empathetic to her desire for a fresh start, their primary concern is the safety of their five-year-old son, Teddy. Mallory, understanding the Maxwell's apprehensions, is eager to demonstrate her commitment to her own recovery and Teddy's well-being. She willingly agrees to undergo random drug testing at their discretion and assures them that her intentions are solely focused on what is best for their son. Ultimately, Teddy himself plays a pivotal role in the decision, forming an instant connection with Mallory.

Teddy, typically a sweet and introverted child known for filling his sketchpad with innocent childhood drawings, surprises everyone when he suddenly creates a much darker image – a man dragging a lifeless woman's body in a forest. As time passes, his drawings become shockingly realistic and disturbing, defying the artistic abilities expected of a child his age. The origins of these macabre creations puzzle Mallory, who fears their implications. Yet, her utmost priority is safeguarding Teddy. She is committed to unraveling the mystery that shrouds these unsettling images and ensuring Teddy's safety before it's too late.

In Hidden Pictures, Jason Rekulak reimagines classic horror tropes, giving readers a fresh perspective on the genre. While I typically favor audiobooks, this novel shines best in its physical form. This preference arises from Rekulak's innovative use of the child's drawings to enhance the narrative. As each new image is revealed, it is presented in full on the page, allowing readers to share in the protagonist's shock and uncertainty. The supernatural elements combine with an unreliable narrator who is refreshingly aware of just how unreliable she must seem. I found myself utterly engrossed in the pages of this book, unable to stop reading until I reached its thrilling conclusion.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 73)

Exploring the shelves at my local library, I aimed to discover a chilling read suitable for the current season. Christopher Golden's name immediately captured my attention as an author I recognized but had yet to read. The eerie cover of Road of Bones seemed like a promising introduction to his writing. At just 228 pages, I deemed it a manageable choice to give his work a try. Upon completing the book, I had mixed feelings about the overall experience. Nevertheless, I can clearly see why Golden has earned his reputation as a popular horror author.

Golden places his novel within a haunting real-world setting. Stretching more than 1200 miles through Siberia, the Kolyma Highway, known as the Road of Bones, exposes travelers to frigid winter temperatures plummeting as low as sixty degrees below zero. In the era of Stalin, this route saw the construction of over eighty Soviet gulags, forming a workforce for the USSR. Tragically, the relentless toil claimed the lives of innumerable prisoners. Their bodies were laid to rest beneath the road's surface, concealed by the unyielding permafrost. This bleak backdrop becomes the stage for Golden's unfolding fiction.

We are introduced to Teig and Prentiss, a documentary producer and his cameraman. Their sights are locked onto the infamous Road of Bones, a location ripe for their reality show concoction—blending historical truth with manufactured intrigue for maximum impact. Accompanied by a local Yakut guide, they venture towards Oymyakon, Earth's coldest settlement. Upon arrival, an ominous sight awaits. The abandoned town is frozen in time, its inhabitants seemingly vanished without a trace. Inexplicable footprints lead into the forest. Within one desolate house resides a traumatized 9-year-old girl, a lone witness to unfathomable horrors. As they unravel the mysteries, Teig, Prentiss, and their companions are about to unearth a terror far beyond their expectations.

From its opening pages, Christopher Golden's Road of Bones gripped my attention, transporting me to the frigid setting with a tangible chill in the air. By merging history with supernatural horror, Golden infuses his chilling tale with unsettling realism. His mastery lies in immersing readers within his characters' psyche, inviting us to experience their fear firsthand rather than by mere observation.

While the initial scenes promised a Roanoke-esque mystery, the narrative momentum waned as the story progressed. The book's brevity maintained a brisk pace yet left scant room for character growth. Consequently, forming a strong connection to any individual character proved challenging. More disconcerting, the plot's evolution shifted from a historically-infused ghostly narrative to a frosty game of cat and mouse. As I concluded the book, I remained captivated by Golden's adept prose yet disheartened by the narrative's unfulfilled potential. While I cannot offer a wholehearted recommendation for this particular book, I'm still captivated by Christopher Golden's potential as a writer. Considering the positive reception his other works have garnered from fellow readers, I'm eagerly anticipating delving into one of his alternative titles.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 66)

October has finally arrived, bringing along a fresh collection of horror novels. While I'm a horror enthusiast all year round, there's an undeniable allure to the genre during this month. There's something about the cool breeze wafting through open windows, a hefty mug of steaming coffee, and a spine-chilling read that I simply can't resist. Kicking off my month of eerie reads is a gift from my friends at Mulholland Books. A Haunting on the Hill by Elizabeth Hand draws inspiration from Shirley Jackson's iconic The Haunting of Hill House. It not only expands upon the legacy of Jackson's classic but also transports its terror into the modern day.

Holly Sherwin, a struggling playwright, appears to have reconciled herself to her status as a washed-up has-been, spending her days as a teacher. Decades have passed since she last experienced the fulfillment of meaningful work, and even her most successful play was borrowed from another's story. However, a glimmer of inspiration emerges within Holly when she stumbles upon the text of an ancient play dating back centuries that captures her imagination. Although the archaic writing is unsuitable for modern times, the themes of witchcraft and hauntings that saturate its pages resonate with her creative spirit. Fueled by a newfound passion she hasn't felt in years, Holly embarks on a mission to resurrect this age-old play and breathe fresh life into it.

Holly's efforts bear fruit when she secures a $10,000 grant to dedicate herself fully to her new project. During a trip upstate, she stumbles upon Hill House, an imposing and decrepit gothic mansion hidden away in a remote village. The mansion's grandeur and eerie ambiance captivate Holly instantly, and the sheer size of the building makes it the perfect place to develop and rehearse her play. Despite her own reservations, Holly persuades her girlfriend, Nisa, to join her in renting the house for a month. Soon, a troupe of actors, each bearing their own ghosts and baggage, arrives to participate. As they settle into the mansion, its peculiarities begin to manifest. Strange creatures stalk the grounds, unsettling sounds reverberate through the halls, and time itself appears to warp and shift. Before long, Holly and her friends find themselves at odds with each other and in a strange and eerie battle against the house itself.

I haven't had the opportunity to read Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House, so I can't provide a direct comparison with this new interpretation. Nevertheless, as an ardent horror reader, I can offer my perspective on the novel as a standalone work. Elizabeth Hand skillfully establishes the atmosphere for her terrifying tale, immersing the initial passages in an unsettling ambiance that conveys a palpable sense of impending dread. There's a meta aspect to the narrative as the protagonist endeavors to modernize a classic play, mirroring the author's attempt to provide a fresh perspective on a renowned novel. By anchoring the novel's foundation in a classic legend, even one of fiction, Hand imbues the story with a historical backdrop that heightens the impact of the chilling events that unfold.

I found it somewhat challenging to connect with the characters, particularly because none of them came across as particularly virtuous. Each character seemed driven by their own self-serving motives. Despite this, the titular hauntings that intensified as the story progressed provided a compelling driver, keeping me eagerly turning the pages. All told A Haunting on the Hill marks a chilling initiation to what promises to be a delightfully terrifying month of reading.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 62)

As a young child, Naomi Shaw found magic in the woods. The otherworldliness of the surroundings and the infectious spirit of the place completely engrossed her imagination. What began as the germ of an idea soon became something more tangible. Naomi recruited her best friends, Cassidy and Olivia, to join her in the woods. The trifecta practiced their Goddess Game, conjuring their own version of magic. The treetops transforming into a grand cathedral ceiling became the home of their spiritual ceremony. The summer of wonder was soon interrupted by a brutal attack. A man invaded their place in the woods. Naomi was stabbed 17 times but lived to identify her attacker. The man was charged with her attempted murder and the killings of 6 other young women. The girls were heroes. 

Years later, Naomi is still haunted by the trauma of that fateful summer in the woods. The scars on her face are a physical reminder of the tragedy she endured. The real trauma, however, isn't something that can be seen. It's the guilt that she's harbored ever since she identified the man who attacked her. The attacker's death in his jail cell reopens old wounds, forcing Naomi and the other girls to grapple with what they did. You see, they lied about seeing him attack on that fateful night. Now they'll have to reckon with the truth of what really happened deep within the woods. 

In What Lies in the Woods, Kate Alice Marshall conjures a tale of childhood innocence, generational trauma, and the complexities of the criminal justice system. Her publisher provided me with a copy of the book to listen to, and I was pleased to see that Karissa Vacker was narrating. Her reading of the work perfectly captured Marshall's atmospheric prose, allowing the characters and their chilling story to whisper off of the pages. Marshall employs a past/present perspective through shifting chapters that reveal bits of the truth in tantalizingly suspenseful bites. I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that one of the characters in this book was named Ethan, the second book that I've read in a row to do so. I always get a kick out of that! Overall, the book unfolds at a deliberate pace, allowing the characters the room they need to come to terms with their chilling transgressions. I was completely thrilled by What Lies in the Woods. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 5)

"That’s what’s different about kids: they believe everything can happen, and fully expect it to."

When you were a child, what were you most afraid of? For me, it was costumed characters. Something about a giant mascot just horrified me beyond belief. In fact, I remember sitting in a grocery cart at a very young age, screaming at the top of my lungs as the Cheeto mascot tried to approach me. My poor Mom finally had to step in and politely ask him to stop following us so we could peacefully go about finishing our shopping. Thankfully, that irrational fear abated with age, but I still have a lingering nightmare involving a guy dressed in a duck costume that haunts me to this very day. As an adult, new things frighten me, things that are much more rational. Still, I find that nothing is as scary as things were when I was a kid. In his novel, The Troop author Nick Cutter, a pseudonym for Canadian author Craig Davidson, preys on our childhood fears by planting a troop of boy scouts directly into a nightmare scenario. 

Tim Riggs has been a scoutmaster for years. Today brings one of his favorite traditions, the yearly camping trip. Over the next three days, the boys will get to explore the wilderness, learn to live off of the land, and share ghost stories around the warmth of a bonfire. For their part, the five boys are eager to escape the real world for a few days. Each of them is on the cusp of manhood, so this outing serves as a potentially final adventure of boyhood. This year's outing takes the troop to an isolated island. The remoteness of this place is palpable. Yes, there are certain comforts like a cabin to sleep in, but the troop can't shake the sense that they truly are on their own. A feeling that will turn from welcome to dread very quickly. 

Not too far into their trip, the troop is interrupted by an intruder, a thin, rambling whither of a man. Tim was certain that the group would be alone on this island, uninterrupted by the outside world. But here this man stands, clearly not in his right mind, and voraciously hungry for any food in his vicinity. The man's hunger is ravenous, he quickly goes from consuming the food that the troop offered him to more unusual tastes. The boys and Tim are frightened by this encounter, unsure of how exactly to proceed and help this man. What they won't know until much later into the night is just how frightened they all should be. The unwanted visitor is the host to a horror more terrifying than anything they could have ever imagined. 

"It is a fact that cannot be denied: the wickedness of others becomes our own wickedness because it kindles something evil in our own hearts."

I love a book that scares me. I read so many books that it can be hard to find something that truly gets under my skin, but The Troop did just that. Nick Cutter has imagined a plot that is as shocking as it is gruesome. Perhaps more dangerous than the physical threats that the troop faces is that of their own emotions. Fear can't be quantified, yet it becomes the main driver of the horror in this book. Think The Lord of the Flies but much darker. Cutter doesn't hold back on giving us all the gory details. If you are even the slightest bit squeamish this book won't be for you. I'm a die-hard horror fan, and even I was shocked by some of the scenes in this book. Like all great horror authors, Cutter knows that none of the gore will land if the reader isn't heavily invested in the characters. He shifts perspective from character to character, giving us an intimate look into their lives and psyches. The masterful character work only adds to the terror that they encounter. This is the perfect read for Halloween and a book that will continue to haunt my nightmares long after I've put it away. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.  

(2022, 47)

October is here, bringing my favorite time of the year. The humidity of the South Texas summer has given way to a slight crispness in the air, the perfect weather to curl up with a light blanket and a good book. With the spooky season finally upon us, I've decided to pepper in some horror reads among the other books on my TBR list. Laird Hunt's 2018 novel In the House in the Dark of the Woods recently caught my eye at my local library. It promised an "indigenous horror story set in Colonial New England," a premise I couldn't pass up. At a little over 200 pages, I hoped the book would be a quick start to my seasonal reading. 

The world outside is strange and wonderful, dark and foreboding. The woman leaves her man and boy to enter the woods in search of berries. She becomes lost amongst the trees, encountering bizarre places and people along the way. What secrets do these dark woods hold? The woman's duty to her family beckons her forward, her desire to find her way home forcing her through situations she would never have dreamed of. Fantasy and reality blend together into a dark fairy tale that will leave the woman forever changed by the things she encounters. 

In the House in the Dark of the Woods is a peculiar read, something more akin to a folktale than horror in the literal sense. Think Lewis Carrol's Wonderland mixed with Hansel and Gretel. Lair Hunt's lyrical prose enraptured me from the start, but I struggled to invest in the story he portrayed. There's no real sense of direction to the novel. Instead, we bear witness to one woman encountering oddity after oddity. What began as an intriguing setup brimming with a dark undertone gave way to an annoyance that nothing of real consequence seemed to be happening. Even after reading the entire book, I still can't say with confidence that I fully understand what exactly happened. The atmosphere is certainly creepy, but In the House in the Dark of the Woods offers little else. 

For more information visit Amazon and Goodreads. 

(2022, 44)

Moving to the remote property in rural Idaho was supposed to be a fresh start for couple Harry and Sasha. Harry was a veteran of the war in Afghanistan, and he and Sasha felt that leaving their big city jobs for the respite of country living would be just the antidote they needed. They couldn't have been luckier with the property they found. Their beautiful home sat amongst 40 acres of sprawling forest and bountiful meadows. It was the perfect home. Their neighbors, the elderly couple Dan and Lucy who farmed the land next to theirs for decades provided a warm welcome to the area and promised to help them acclimate to their new life. It wasn't until Harry and Sasha met their neighbors for dinner that their paradise began to crumble. 

The evening started just as you would expect it to. Pleasantries were exchanged among food and drink, and Dan and Lucy ensured their young acquaintances felt supported. It was when they separated into different rooms, Dan with Harry and Lucy with Sasha, that things turned odd. Dan pulled out a binder and handed it to Harry. He went off proclaiming about how the land was cursed and that spirits would make their presence known. As long as Harry and Sasha complete the corresponding tasks to specific signs, the spirits will do no harm. Harry grabbed Sasha and stormed away from Dan and Lucy's house, not sure if these old wives' tales are some kind of delirium or worse, a sick joke. Either way, he will have nothing to do with any kind of paranormal nonsense. By spring, the couple has all but forgotten about the alleged curse. But then the first indication of the evil appears, just as Dan and Lucy foretold. Like it or not, Harry and Sasha are about to live through their worst nightmare. 

Old Country by Matt and Harrison Query had quite the unlikely beginning. The genesis of this horror story began as a Reddit thread posted to the notorious r/NoSleep. Matt Query posted to the site for years before his short story "My Wife and I Bought A Ranch" went viral. Matt turned to his screenwriting brother Harrison to flesh out the story into a full novel. Grand Central Publishing, who also provided me with an advanced copy of the work for review, published Old Country, and the book has already been picked up by Netflix for an adaptation. I'm an unabashed horror junkie, so I had high expectations for the book. It drew me in from the very start, expertly combining an already eerie setting with a legend that seemed just believable enough to get under my skin. The pace was quick, the scares were plentiful, and the characters were given enough depth to ground all of the paranormal into a sense of reality. Everything came together into a conclusion that was as terrifying as it was satisfying. If you're looking for a spooky read, go ahead and add this one to your TBR. You won't regret it!

For more information visit Amazon and Goodreads. 

(2022, 36)

What are you afraid of? As October comes to an end, we celebrate the one night a year where ghouls and goblins are actually welcomed. As I set out to celebrate Halloween this year, I decided to listen to one more horror audiobook. Knowing my love for all things horror, the fine folks at Macmillan Audio sent me a review copy of Cassandra Khaw's new ghost story Nothing But Blackened Teeth. I was happy to accept it and listen to one final spooky book for the year. With a gothic setting in a faraway land, a group of characters with a multitude of secrets, and a chilling legend of a ghost, it was easy to fall under the spell of Khaw's work. 

A group of five young people has gathered in the most unlikely place imaginable to celebrate the pending nuptials of a couple in their midst. The thrill-seeking quintet has forgone the usual wedding venues in favor of an ancient Japanese mansion, long abandoned to the past. As if the setting isn't creepy enough, the legend of its history certainly takes things over the top. Years ago, a bride-to-be was buried beneath the home left to eternally lay in waiting for her missing husband. She's said to have haunted the building ever since. Throughout history, multiple women have been sacrificed to keep the bride company. As the group begins their stay in the mansion, their own personal histories begin to come to light, waking the sleeping bride. Her pale face has no features beyond the dark black teeth that peek out from her mask. A haunted smile welcoming the newest guests. 

In Nothing But Blackened Teeth Cassandra Khaw weaves a traditional haunted house story through the lives of five friends grappling with their personal love and loss. I loved the way that Khaw's legend of a lonely bride mirrored the hope and heartbreak of the present-day characters, both coming together into a new kind of nightmare. The audiobook is narrated by Suehyla El-Attar whose voice perfectly captures both the quiet intensity of the character dynamics and the more propulsive horror elements that drive the plot. Oddly though, I found myself more invested in the plight of the book's monster than the people living through the terror. Khaw doesn't delve much into their past, electing to have much of their motivations remain hidden. The monster, however, is given a full back story that reads like something out of a tragic historical legend. With the brief length of this work, all of that amounts to a story that promises something more impactful than it actually delivers. Still, the unconventional setting and truly scary monster are more than worth the price of admission. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 43)