My October in reading

Given my dad’s diagnosis, I think I may have gone overboard using Spooky Season to buoy my mental health. I got really into it. But then, can you ever have too much Spooky Season?

The Dangers of Smoking in Bed by Mariana Enríquez (translated by Megan McDowell)

I don’t know what is going on in Argentina these days, but all the Argentine authors I’ve read over the past few years are weird—in the best possible way. The Dangers of Smoking in Bed is a macabre short story collection (pretty brutal at points, so content warning for…most things that might require a content warning), and I absolutely loved it. I think my favorite story is “Meat,” which is about teen rock stars and also cannibalism. Although “Kids Who Come Back” (understated title of the year) is also a masterpiece. Enríquez has a novel coming out in February, and I plan to be first in line at the bookstore.

The Lost Girls by Sonia Hartl (narrated by Justis Bolding)

Revenge is a dish best served by a perpetually teenage girl stuck working at Taco Bell. Holly was turned into a vampire in the 1980s by her dreamy boyfriend Elton—only to get dumped a few decades later. When he sets his sights on a new human girl, Parker, Holly and two other of his exes team up to destroy Elton once and for all. Parts of this were really funny—I wanted to read a whole book about Holly’s former best friend Stacey, who goes a little too hard on the whole vampire thing. And the queer romance between Holly and Parker was delightful. Parts of this were painfully repetitive—you made a vow to give humans a chance to run before you feed on them! I get it! Overall, this was a fun YA twist on vampires.

Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism by Amanda Montell

In Cultish, Montell theorizes that cults and cult-like organizations—from Jim Jones to your favorite Soul Cycle instructor—use similar types of language to pull people into the group and keep them hooked. I like that she draws parallels between death cults and MLMs and exercise programs while acknowledging that they’re not equally dangerous. Her prose style is easy to read, and often funny—though in an effort to make her argument clear, the chapters sometimes feel repetitive. I would love to read a new edition of this ten years down the road, because I suspect by then she’d be able to expand the social media chapter into an even more compelling story. (Though it seems like we’ve had social media forever at this point, our virtual lives are still relatively new.) Definitely a must for people interested in cults.

Nothing But Blackened Teeth by Cassandra Khaw

This is easily one of the scariest books I’ve ever read. Khaw’s slim novella tells a haunted house story—a group of friends spends the night in a crumbling Japanese mansion to celebrate the world’s creepiest wedding and get a hell of a lot more than they bargained for. Don’t get me wrong—this house is haunted. But the scariest aspect for me was the tension between the friends. They have some issues that they haven’t worked out, and the narrator especially knows how to push buttons. At points I was literally holding my breath. Can’t recommend this one enough.

Fledgling by Octavia E. Butler (narrated by Tracey Leigh)

You know when people say novels “build to a thrilling conclusion”? This unusual take on the vampire novel does that with bells on. It starts a bit slow, with our narrator, seemingly a young girl, gaining consciousness after a horrific attack that stole her memory. As it turns out, she’s a 50-year-old vampire and someone is trying to murder her entire family. She has to relearn how to be what she is and simultaneously save those who saved her. I will say, the fact that she has an appearance of a little girl and has sex with grown human men and women is…weird! It just is! On the other hand, once you’ve read Alissa Nutting’s novel Tampa, any discomfort of that particular kind seems small by comparison. Fledgling was a good book—and like I said, the ending is action-packed.

In the Shadow of the Horns: A Black Metal Horror Anthology, edited by Evan Dean Shelton and Edwin Callihan

Butcher Cabin Books—a bookstore focused exclusively on horror—recently opened a few blocks from my house. Goodbye, all my money! On opening day, I picked up a copy of In the Shadow of the Horns. Aside from gore, I had no idea what I was getting into with this anthology inspired by black metal music. (Not something I listen to much, though I’m familiar with the concepts/themes of it.) I still don’t—and that’s a compliment. I think? My favorite stories in the collection were actually about music—the first story, Matthew Mitchell’s “The Band,” was wildly grotesque. I was afraid I was going to have nightmares, but escaped that fate somehow. Keith Anthony Baird’s story “Walked a Pale Horse on Celtic Frost” was properly gothic, which I enjoyed. Shoutout to Lorraine Schein’s “The Edifice,” which was less of a story and more of a futuristic, techno-horror vibe. Some of these stories were much stronger than others. Given the proclivities of certain black metal bands, I was a tad worried I’d come across some offensive political views—but I’m happy to report that any Nazis/racist/fascist characters in this collection were clearly enemies who had to die. DO NOT read this book if gore/violence of any kind makes you queasy—it’s all in there, pretty much every horrible thing you can imagine. But if you’re looking for some extreme horror, you should pick up a copy. There’s a second volume of this anthology, and I may do just that!

Devil House by John Darnielle

I’m reluctant to call this a horror novel—it’s more of a meditation on the ethics of true crime, and because it deals with true crime, it deals with horrific things by definition. Gage Chandler is a prolific true crime writer who burst onto the scene with a book about a murder in his hometown of San Luis Obispo, and for his next work, he’s moved into Devil House—the scene of a grisly, 1980s Satanic Panic murder in the small California town of Milpitas. As his research progresses, his new book takes unexpected turns. I never knew for a minute where this one was going, especially when I got to the medieval section. You might not be scared by this novel, but your brain will be doing anxious jumping jacks.

Woman, Eating by Claire Kohda

Turned by her vampire mother when she was an infant, Lydia was raised to believe that she was a dirty, worthless, parasitic creature, deserving of no better than pig’s blood. When her mother’s memory begins to fail, Lydia puts her in a care home and follows in her human father’s footsteps to become an artist, securing an internship at a prestigious London gallery. That internship isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and pig’s blood isn’t as easy to find in the big city. This is, essentially, an intersectional vampire novel. Lydia is a vampire, but she is also a woman, and she is also Asian, and she also suffers from depression and an eating disorder. It’s a quiet book—quietly funny, quietly sad. It’s the type of book you’d probably enjoy whether you like horror or not.