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I’ll be honest—it took me a moment to understand this book. We are immediately thrown into an opulent “year-turning” party: buffets of food, swirling gowns, a mysterious grandfather clock slowly ticking down the hours until the new year. Our protagonist, Kembral Thorne, is at the party while on maternity leave from her job as a Hound, a police officer-esque position that specializes in retrieving people or objects from other dimensions known as Echoes. In rapid succession, author Melissa Caruso introduces Kembral and the rest of the guests at the year-turning party (including Kembral’s nemesis and obsession, professional thief Rika Nonesuch), the framework of Echoes and a series of specialized terms for the world and its sociopolitical system. If reading this paragraph was overwhelming, you can expect a similar reaction when you begin The Last Hour Between Worlds

But—but! If you’re a fantasy romance fan who’s been craving originality from the genre, this book is truly a breath of fresh air. Once you’ve gotten the gist of Echoes and more or less familiarized yourself with the characters, the storyline is a heady, bizarre rush of murder mystery meets Alice in Wonderland. Kembral discovers quite quickly that the year-turning party is being used as a chessboard of sorts, that a game is being played out between powerful interdimensional beings. Every hour, the party falls into a weirder, deadlier Echo, and it is up to Kembral and Rika to figure out how to stop the game before they’re trapped in an Echo they can’t escape from—if they don’t, everyone will die. 

Caruso has created a compelling heroine in Kembral, who is equal parts tough, resourceful and vulnerable. A full-blown adult and mother, there’s an element of maturity and caution to her perspective that is refreshing in a genre that is often full of young protagonists who dive headlong into peril. The heart of the novel is Kembral’s relationship with Rika: their history and their secrets, how they’ve leaned on each other and how they’ve hurt each other. Caruso’s writing is stunning as well, with lines like “trying to figure her out was like trying to hold the shape of fire in your mind.” Although I was skeptical when I started, by the middle, I was completely on board with Kembral and Rika as they tried to save their sinking ship—or, in this case, their dimension-bending party. The Last Hour Between Worlds isn’t a breezy read, but it will stretch your imagination and leave you thinking.

A heady, bizarre rush of murder mystery meets Alice’s in Wonderland, The Last Hour Between Worlds is an interdimensional fantasy adventure.
Review by

Just before K.B. Wagers’ latest military sci-fi novel, And the Mighty Will Fall, takes off at warp speed, we’re met with a short but important epigraph. “It is the mission of the Near-Earth Orbital Guard to ensure the safety and security of the Sol system and the space around any additional planets that human beings call home.” And with that, we’re launched into a tense struggle that’s about to play out at an electric pace above a colonized Mars. Hang on tight—we’re in for some chop. 

Commander Maxine Carmichael, a highly decorated NeoG officer, lands aboard the Mars Orbital Station (MOS). Today, her commanding officer, Admiral Ford, will transfer the MOS from NeoG control to Mars Civilian Command. The people of Mars deserve to maintain the highly strategic station, which controls all traffic to and from the cities of the planet. But just as Max makes her way to the observation deck, everything goes to hell. Klaxons blare, lights flash and there’s gunfire coming from the docking bay. Someone is seizing control of the station in its most vulnerable moment. But who? And why?

In the fourth entry to their NeoG series, Wagers absolutely hits the gas. The pace is fast and sharp, perspectives whipping from Max and her attempt to evade capture on the MOS to various NeoG commanders and other groups coordinating a response in real time. It’s a hostage situation in space, with various muddled motivations slowly uncovered as the crisis continues. Like Bruce Willis sneaking through the air ducts in Nakatomi Plaza, Max serves as a stalwart heroine, focused and capable. But fear not: Jenks, Sapphi, D’Arcy, Nika and more names familiar to series regulars all play a part in the rescue operation.

For those like me who have not read a NeoG novel before, the book includes a helpful list of characters, which was a necessary reference early on. But even while I was still getting up to speed with the world and its players, the sheer force of the story drove me to ignore any momentary confusion. This is a razor’s-edge action caper, satisfying throughout. Get ready for a heck of a ride.

K.B. Wager’s fourth NeoG novel is a razor’s-edge action caper set on a station orbiting Mars—Die Hard, but in space.
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An acolyte of the sun god, Mische saw her life destroyed when she was forcibly Turned into a vampire. After murdering the vampire who turned her, Mische is spared from execution when she agrees to journey into the afterlife with Asar, a vampire prince, and resurrect the god of death. Tasked by the sun god with betraying Asar and sabotaging their mission, Mische finds herself questioning everything she’s ever believed in when she begins to fall for Asar.

The Songbird & the Heart of Stone takes us straight into an afterlife that’s as intriguing as it is terrifying. How did you conceive of your version of the road to the underworld?
Much of my process adhered to the improv philosophy of “yes, and . . .” I know that many readers love my books for the hot vampires—and make no mistake, I do also love hot vampires!—but I have a streak that just really, really loves weird, gross, dark magic. I always enjoy creating structures to my magical fantasy journeys that have a strong sense of progression, and better yet if they give me the opportunity to try all kinds of different gimmicks. So, I loosely ran with the general idea of “circles of hell” and thought about what those “levels” might look like in the context of the Nyaxia world. Then I mapped each of these levels to the character arcs for Mische and Asar, and tied them into the lore of the gods’ story. This piece was the most fun for me!

So far in the Crowns of Nyaxia series, we’ve been inside the heads of three characters: Raihn, Oraya and Mische. Mische has a very different internal monologue than any of the others. How did you get into her head to really capture that change in narrative voice?
Going from Oraya’s cynical, hard-edged voice to Mische’s optimistic and thoughtful one was a little jarring in the beginning. But, I had a baby in between writing The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King, the previous book in the series, and Songbird, so I had a lot of time to think about the inner workings of Mische’s brain during my maternity leave. I got to know her a lot in borderline-hallucinatory brainstorming sessions at 3 a.m.!

“There’s a lot more to power than physical strength . . .”

Luce, Asar’s beloved necromantic dog, is undoubtedly going to steal some readers’ hearts (just as she stole mine). How did she come into the picture?
It’s only now that I realize I cannot remember when I first conceived of Luce! She came into the picture very early in my brainstorming for Asar’s character. He’s introverted, rigid and definitely a bit scary, but boy does he love his dog! (Rightfully so—she is a very good girl.) I believe that platonic relationships are just as important as romantic ones. It’s important that we see the characters reflected against someone else who is meaningful to them. In this case, Luce really helped me define Asar, and took on an (after)life of her own from there.

Architecture—whether it’s the impressive structures of the underworld or the details of the Citadel—gives a distinct sense of character to the human, vampire and godly locations within The Songbird & the Heart of Stone. Did you have any particular inspirations for the look of each major location? 
I’m very flattered by this question, because it’s so important to me that each of the houses feels distinct! My favorite thing about the Nyaxia world is that it’s just so huge, and with every book that ventures into a new corner of the world, I try to make sure that place feels different from everywhere we’ve been before it. Typically, I’ll start with a very general “vibe” for a place, and then I’ll mash together many different influences until I like what I’ve arrived at. I will be the first to admit that the entire creative process on this front is chaotic!

The Songbird & the Heart of Stone by Carissa Broadbent book jacket

You once mentioned that you ended up with the three courts because you couldn’t choose one type of vampire. What were some of your influences in creating the vampire houses, and if you had to join one of the houses, which would it be?
There wasn’t one specific influence for each house so much as each had a general “vibe” I was trying to capture. The Nightborn are the winged, deadly vampires; the Shadowborn are the seductive, scheming vampires; the Bloodborn are the monstrous, bloodthirsty vampires. Of course, these simplistic ideas bloomed into many others as I fleshed everything out! 

I would be in the House of Shadow, because I’m definitely not coordinated enough to be in the House of Night nor intimidating enough to be in the House of Blood. I’d likely immediately get myself killed in the House of Shadow, too—but at least I could hide out in the libraries for a while first.

Despite following the same god, Mische and Chandra have little in common when it comes to both their outlook and their goals. If their roles had been reversed, how would Mische have taken to life as a midwife for vampires? What about Chandra as a vampire?
Chandra and Mische both have been indoctrinated by their god most of their lives, and both of them have very real, very legitimate reasons to justify hatred of vampires. Chandra is so similar to Mische in so many ways, and yet has followed all of those commonalities to a completely different end. Even at the height of her status in her previous human life in her cult, Mische couldn’t fully accept the harsh boundaries of her world. Chandra was likely exactly the kind of acolyte Mische wished she could be in those years: pious, devoted and unquestioningly loyal. But Mische was never going to be that person, for better or for worse. Even if her positions were swapped with Chandra, they would always end up in radically different places.

Just as Chandra and Mische are foils, so too are Mische and Asar. We get Mische’s perspective the first time she sees Asar, but what does Asar think of Mische at first sight?
I can’t answer this question in too much detail because it might be something we cover in the next book! In a super general sense: Asar knows right away that Mische is unusual, and he’s intrigued by her right off the bat. Some of that is just because he’s a guy who likes to know things, and Mische is objectively unusual because of her background. But even from the start, when he’s underestimating her, he gets the sense that there’s more to her.

Imbalanced power dynamics and the abuse of power are themes that have cropped up several times in Crowns of Nyaxia so far, from Vincent in The Serpent & the Wings of Night to this novel. This is obviously an issue in our own world as well, but do you think that there’s something about vampire society that makes it particularly interesting to explore? 
The exploration of power runs through the entire series. In the world of Nyaxia, there are just so many different layers to those power dynamics: humans versus vampires, gods versus mortals and, of course, the plethora of interpersonal power dynamics that are specific to each character. What makes this particularly interesting to me is that some groups or characters stand in very different places on the power spectrum depending on the lens you’re looking through. Vampires, for instance, are much more powerful than humans physically, but they’re also often brutally hunted if they venture beyond Obitraes. Vincent, Oraya’s father, was obsessed with maintaining power, but the things he had to do to keep it ended up isolating him—and unforgivably harming those he loved most. There’s a lot more to power than physical strength and having so many different layers in this world has made it particularly fun to explore.

Read our starred review of ‘The Songbird & the Heart of Stone’ by Carissa Broadbent.

Even with her own discomfort surrounding her vampirism, Mische holds views on vampires that seem more nuanced than what we see from Oraya in the Nightborn Duet. How much of that is from their backgrounds, and how much is due to the individuals—and the courts—that they’re dealing with?
I love this question! Mische and Oraya are so, so different. They came from opposite backgrounds. Oraya was surrounded by vampires but constantly told how dangerous the world around her was. Meanwhile, as a missionary, Mische learned to help people become better versions of themselves by looking beyond her initial impressions of them. They embody opposite extremes, and we would have seen that even if their positions and Houses had been swapped—but of course, both still isolate themselves in different ways. 

We get a deeper view of the pantheon in The Songbird & the Heart of Stone, including the very intimate interactions between the gods and their followers. What inspired you to have the gods be so very present (and fallible)?
I love the sheer amount of possibility that the pantheon introduces into this world, and from the beginning, I wanted the gods to be highly present, creating very tangible impacts on the story. It introduces a whole other layer to the hierarchy of the world and another level of power dynamics. It throws open doors that would otherwise be impossible to explore!

Are there any gods who we haven’t interacted with yet who you’re excited to explore further?
I am fascinated by the gods, and they play a much bigger role from Songbird onwards. So, the short answer is “yes, so many!”—but I think I’ll leave it at that rather than risk saying too much.

Photo of Carissa Broadbent by Victoria Costello.

The Songbird & the Heart of Stone starts a new arc in the author’s bestselling Crowns of Nyaxia series.
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Book Nooks

The question of how best to set up a personal library has confounded many a book collector. When it comes time to arrange them, all those wonderful volumes can seem like the pieces of an unsolvable puzzle. The literature lover who’s searching for solutions will welcome Book Nooks: Inspired Ideas for Cozy Reading Corners and Stylish Book Displays by Vanessa Dina and Claire Gilhuly.

Packed with easy-to-execute design schemes and Antonis Achilleos’ fabulous photographs, Book Nooks offers tips on how to group books according to color and size, as well as strategies for using personal effects in an arrangement. For establishing a comfy reading area, there are options to suit every style, space and taste. The book also addresses the art of stacking (Yes, it can be a creative act!), suggests methods for bringing plants into the picture, organizing those prize cookbooks and integrating analog reading material into a teen’s room. With reading recs from noted authors and a look at Little Free Libraries, Book Nooks is a bibliophile’s best friend.

Hidden Libraries

DC Helmuth’s Hidden Libraries: The World’s Most Unusual Book Depositories is a perfectly on-point present for any reader, but especially one who loves to travel. This wide-ranging title profiles 50 remarkable libraries in locations across the globe. Staff stories, fascinating facts, spectacular imagery and a foreword from critic and librarian Nancy Pearl make it a winning tribute to the mission of libraries everywhere.

Hidden Libraries surveys a range of amazing physical spaces. The Kurkku Fields’ Underground Library in Kisarazu, Japan, is a book-lined grotto covered in grass, while the cocoon-shaped Heydar Aliyev International Airport Library near Baku, Azerbaijan, projects sheer architectural awesomeness. Examples of inspired resourcefulness regarding book circulation abound: In China, the Shenzhen library system distributes titles via vending machine. And Helmuth doesn’t dismiss even the most miniature of libraries. A handsome wooden cabinet filled with colorful books, the Little Free Library at the South Pole—startling against Antarctica’s unrelieved whiteness—seems to defy its frozen surroundings. Big or small, grand or humble, each library serves as a singular point of enrichment and connection, and Helmuth’s stirring volume honors these efforts.

The Rory Gilmore Reading Challenge

With its quick-witted heroine Rory Gilmore, a voracious reader with dreams of attending Harvard, Gilmore Girls could very well be classified as a TV show for bookworms. The series, which aired from 2000 to 2007, made numerous allusions (339, to be exact) to books of all genres—titles favored by Rory and her friends. In The Rory Gilmore Reading Challenge: The Official Guide to All the Books, Erika Berlin explores the novels, plays and poetry cited on the show, providing episode information and details on who read what. 

Inspired by Buzzfeed’s 2014 list of all the books mentioned in Gilmore Girls, Berlin’s breezy volume takes a nostalgic look back at Rory’s world while sharing reading recommendations (Frankenstein, The Poems of Emily Dickinson, One Hundred Years of Solitude, the list goes on) and invaluable book-related advice, including approaches for becoming a more focused reader and easy ways to impose order on a chaotic book collection. Filled with photos from the show, this book is a sunny retrospective and a buoyant tribute to the reading life.

Buried Deep and Other Stories

For the fantasy fan, there’s no better gift than Buried Deep and Other Stories by Naomi Novik, bestselling author of the Scholomance trilogy, Uprooted and Spinning Silver. As this collection proves, Novik is a natural conjurer whose stories—rich with allusion and detail—feel effortlessly authentic. Each provides an escape into an alternative world that’s wholly realized. 

“Dragons & Decorum”—a fantastical recasting of Pride and Prejudice, set in the Regency England of Novik’s Temeraire seriesfinds Elizabeth Bennet riding a winged dragon named Wollstonecraft. In “The Long Way Round,” Novik offers a taste of her next work (tentatively titled Folly) and introduces spirited protagonist Intessa Roh. “Vici,” another Temeraire tale, but this time set in ancient Rome, chronicles the unexpected camaraderie that arises between Marc Antony and a valiant dragon. Introductions from Novik accompany the anthology’s 13 stories, and readers will relish the context they give to her work. This is a transportive collection from an author who maps her narrative milieus with extraordinary precision.

The Man in Black and Other Stories

Crime fiction maven Elly Griffiths is known as a prolific writer, having penned the Ruth Galloway, Harbinder Kaur and Brighton mysteries series. But did anyone suspect she was writing short stories on the side? That’s right—Griffiths has long played around with short-form work, and her intriguing new volume, The Man in Black and Other Stories, spotlights this aspect of her artistry. 

The atmospheric anthology brings together 19 pieces, in which, fans will be delighted to learn, Griffiths expands the backstories of some of her most popular characters. The volume’s eponymous story is a spooky sketch set just before Halloween that features Ruth Galloway. “Harbinger” tracks Harbinder Kaur’s all-too-eventful first day at Shoreham Criminal Investigation Department. And in “Ruth Galloway and the Ghost of Max Mephisto,” all three of Griffiths’ sleuths converge, as it were. Ingeniously plotted and leavened with humor, the pieces are brief but satisfying. From sinister tales to twisty whodunits, Griffith’s short stories deliver as much spellbinding suspense as a full-blown novel.

Got a serious bibliophile on your list? Tick that box with one of these titles.
STARRED REVIEW
November 5, 2024

2 skin-crawling horror novels about bugs

You will never look at a cicada or a wasp the same way again.
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queen

The Queen

The Queen reaffirms Nick Cutter’s place as one of the horror genre’s most entertaining storytellers.
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swarm

The Swarm

Andy Marino rides the balance between good horrific fun and grisly speculation in The Swarm, a tale of a cicada emergence of biblical proportions.
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You will never look at a cicada or a wasp the same way again.
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Detective Vicky Paterson has seen more than her fair share of murders in the town of Fort Halcott, New York. But this one is the strangest yet, an unnerving ritualistic killing of a woman with hoarding disorder discovered amid the already horrific backdrop of her home. Meanwhile, hot on the trail of a missing girl, professional fixers Will and Alicia stumble on another disturbing ritual in an abandoned factory that seems to stretch the boundaries of what is possible. Vicky is ready to blame her case on a potential serial killer; Will and Alicia are willing to call the ritual nothing more than the work of a deranged sex cult. But both investigations stumble to a halt when the world erupts in a cicada emergence of biblical proportions. Far from the harmless, droning creatures one would expect, these cicadas are driven to attack, forcing themselves down humans’ throats and taking residence there. As people everywhere fight to survive, Vicky, Will and Alicia begin to wonder: How is this infestation related to their cases? And how can they ever hope to stop a swarm so immense?

Even if they lack the drive to infest and kill, a cicada emergence can feel like an invasion. The Swarm, Andy Marino’s latest horror novel, pulls on this thread and amplifies it. Marino turns cicadas’ already otherworldly drone into a malevolent force, their haphazard way of flying into a learning algorithm bent on human destruction. While that premise might seem hokey to anyone who has spent time around harmless, bumbling cicadas, in execution, it is anything but. Marino’s insects are horrifying, alien creatures with unshakable drives and unknowable goals. And they don’t just come in ones and twos. In the tradition of Hitchcock’s seminal classic The Birds, the cicadas of The Swarm are inescapable, blotting out the sky in great streams of wings and writhing masses of bodies. Marino balances this ecological horror with a sympathetic look at a cast of characters whose lives were already on the brink far before the cicada emergence. Sometimes gruesome and always creepy, The Swarm rides the balance between good horrific fun and grisly speculation.

Andy Marino rides the balance between good horrific fun and grisly speculation in The Swarm, a tale of a cicada emergence of biblical proportions.

Run

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Run by Blake Crouch is a thriller that dips its toe just far enough into the world of science fiction to be deeply unsettling. In the lower 48 states of America, an aurora borealis has beamed brainwashing light into the eyes of unwitting citizens, turning them into homicidal, cultish maniacs.

Crouch’s story follows a single family, the Colcloughs. After a narrow escape from several people of murderous intent, they head north from their home in Albuquerque, New Mexico, looking for anywhere that could provide shelter. For the entirety of Run, Crouch focuses on the beat-to-beat action of their journey, providing a ground-level view of the world going to hell, through the eyes of one family in a greater apocalypse.

Those affected by the aurora can spot others affected, but the unaffected are none the wiser, which makes every encounter with humans outside the family a chance encounter with death. The various antagonists in Run are psychopathic and brutal: Those affected by the aurora enjoy killing those who are not. They hack their victims with knives, burn them at the stake or crucify them, and there is no hesitation or regret during their assault—they even go so far as to joke with one another while slaughtering their victims. They also instinctively work together, forming bands of roving vehicles that round up the unaffected for mass execution. All of this sets the tone for the Colcloughs (and the reader) early on: There is no negotiating or appealing with these aggressors. The result is a sense of absolute, uncompromising fight-or-flight.

In the midst of this extreme and violent world, our protagonists are incongruously human, grounding the story in realism. Patriarch Jack is struggling to reconnect with his wife, Dee. Their daughter, Naomi, is an angsty teen who hasn’t felt close to her father in years. Their son, Cole, is a child, too young to really understand what is going on but too old to forget the images he will most likely carry forever. Each of the characters feels realistic: Naomi never wanders into “You just don’t understand me” tropes, nor do Jack and Dee devolve into petty, drama-for-drama’s-sake arguments.

Taut and sparsely written, Blake Crouch’s Run is an unnerving thriller set in the early days of the apocalypse.

The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door by H.G. Parry (The Magician’s Daughter and The Unlikely Escape of Uriah Heep) provides a dazzling escape for lovers of magical universities and fantastical adventures that span both the human realm and the wilder, more unpredictable faerie world. When Clover Hill gets the opportunity to attend the school of her dreams, Camford University of Magical Scholarship, she is initially met with the ostracization that she expected as the only student not from an affluent magical Family. Clover does her best to keep her head down, determined to learn how to undo a possibly fatal fae curse that was inflicted upon her older brother during the Great War. But much to her surprise, one of the most popular students in school, Alden Lennox-Fontaine, takes an unexpected interest in “the scholarship witch,” and his posse of equally elite and fabulous friends takes her under their wing. But even as Clover befriends Alden, Hero and Eddie, dark and sometimes unforgivable secrets are revealed that will test not only their bond, but also the tradition of the Families and the students’ trust in the revered institution of Camford itself. 

The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door is an excellent magical twist on dark academia, drawing upon now-beloved tropes such as ivy-strewn, cobblestone pathways and cavernous libraries, then adding a dash of spellcasting and hedgewitchery: The pathways can shift in the blink of an eye, and the library is guarded with enchantments. But the novel offers more than the superficial pleasures of the aesthetic, as Parry explores in detail the very human relationships at play during Clover’s time at Camford, from the platonic to the romantic and everything in between.

Clover’s adventures with her charming new companions are entrancing, and Parry infuses them with a never-ending series of exciting twists, keeping readers on their toes. Clover initially sees both Camford and her friendships through rose-colored lenses, describing the campus in romanticized, atmospheric terms. The reader is therefore often at the mercy of the protagonist’s perspective—tricked, as in one of the fae’s infamous deals, into thinking we’ve figured her situation out. Parry keeps the magic flowing as her characters battle to save the early 20th-century human world from dangerous faerie magic, constantly surprising readers in this accomplished take on the popular dark academia aesthetic.

The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door is a magical twist on dark academia that presents an entrancing vision of an alternate post-World War I England.
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With his breakthrough 2014 novel, The Troop, which was one of the most acclaimed horror novels of the last decade, Nick Cutter established himself as a writer of propulsive, muscular, unrelenting journeys into terror. His latest book, The Queen, reaffirms his place as one of the genre’s most entertaining storytellers, delivering a creature feature and the story of a doomed friendship in one unputdownable package.

Told over the course of a single day, the novel follows Margaret Carpenter, a young woman still reeling from the disappearance of her best friend, Charity Atwater. Margaret wakes up to find that an iPhone has been mysteriously delivered to her doorstep, and it begins pinging with messages from someone claiming to be her vanished friend. The Queen soon descends into something even darker, as Margaret embarks on a journey to find Charity and get to the bottom of an increasingly violent mystery that’s gripping their small town. 

Cutter wastes no time in throwing Margaret into the deep end, and the book moves like a freight train even when he’s pulling off some surprisingly tender moments between characters. Margaret’s narration is crisp, relatable and full of the kind of urgency that you’d expect from a someone in such an extreme situation, but Cutter’s great gift is his ability to go beyond that, to build a world even as he’s building a character. There are no trade-offs in his prose, no sense that we’re slowing down to lay the groundwork for something that’ll come next. It’s all multipurpose, expertly designed to keep you turning the pages as the book’s horrors grow deeper.

As for those frights, many of which involve a fascination with insects and how they interact with the natural world, Cutter is once again in top form. If you loved the body horror of The Troop, you’re going to get that in spades, along with an element of Promethean, sci-fi terror that’s almost cosmic in its levels of dread—and, of course, buckets of gore.

Because of these ingredients, and so many more, The Queen is a must-read for horror fans, for Nick Cutter fans and for anyone hoping to stay up late with a good scary yarn.

The Queen reaffirms Nick Cutter’s place as one of the horror genre’s most entertaining storytellers.
Review by

As she begins the second of the three duologies that will make up her Crowns of Nyaxia series, author Carissa Broadbent leaves the House of Night and takes her characters straight to hell—the underworld, that is. The Songbird & the Heart of Stone picks up in the months after the events of the Nightborn Duet (The Serpent & the Wings of the Night and The Ashes & the Star-Cursed King), as former acolyte Mische is still reeling from losing her connection to the sun god after being Turned into a vampire. When she is captured by the House of Shadow, one of three vampire courts, Mische is spared from death by the mysterious Asar, the bastard prince of the House of Shadow and brother to the vampire who Turned her. But Asar saves Mische not out of compassion, but to help him complete a task given to him by the goddess Nyaxia: Descend into the underworld and resurrect Nyaxia’s long-dead husband, the god of death. It’s an offer Mische can’t refuse, especially when her own god breaks his silence, ordering Mische to aid Asar and then betray him by killing the god of death after his resurrection.

Carissa Broadbent went to hell and back.

In The Songbird & the Heart of Stone, Carissa Broadbent marries a thoughtful look at religious and family trauma with epic adventure and romance. Fan-favorite Mische was originally introduced as a seemingly happy-go-lucky sidekick in The Serpent & the Wings of Night. But now, she struggles to choose a path that could bring her happiness in her new life as a vampire, afraid of destroying her tenuous hold on her humanity—and her god. Not to be outdone in the personal baggage department, necromancer Asar has a past as bloody as it is tragic. You could argue that his actions go slightly beyond the “morally gray” territory so beloved by fantasy romance readers, edging into downright villainous. But his devotion to Mische and desire to help her find love that doesn’t hurt make him a compelling (and swoon-inducing) romantic lead. Mische and Asar’s story isn’t over yet, but this first half of their romance makes clear that they are destined for an adventure that will shake the very foundations of their world and its pantheon.

In The Songbird & the Heart of Stone, Carissa Broadbent marries a thoughtful look at religious and family trauma with epic adventure and romance.
Review by

Comforting, kindhearted and soulful, Julie Leong’s The Teller of Small Fortunes offers a welcome reprieve from the dreary and violent stab-a-thons that often dominate the fantasy genre. Pull up a chair, grab your favorite mug and sink into this lovely debut’s warm embrace.

Tao, a fortune teller from the Empire of Shinara, loves her life of solitude. Crisscrossing the neighboring kingdom of Eshtera with her covered wagon and faithful mule, she makes a living telling small fortunes wherever she goes. You may be wondering, “What is a small fortune?” Well, Tao can tell when the spring rains will come, how many calves will be born this year or when the inn’s common room will be full again. However, when one of her fortunes reveals a missing girl is still alive, Tao finds herself enlisted to help Mash, the girl’s ex-mercenary father, and his similarly reformed companion, former thief Silt, track her down. But what about Tao’s coveted peace and quiet? Being alone is the only way she can keep her secret safe, because Tao can tell big fortunes: ones that can hurt people. As their journey continues, Tao must decide how much to tell her companions about her true powers, even as time runs short to help an innocent in need.

In The Teller of Small Fortunes, Leong paints with primary colors, leaving very few shadows in her portrait of friendship and family. Each member of Tao’s party has distinct regrets and murky pasts, but these backgrounds simply reveal how the characters will heal one another. Leong homes in on small moments, carefully calibrating each step toward trust and companionship. But that is not to say that The Teller of Small Fortunes does not have tension. The party’s mission to find the lost girl is not without real pain. But always there is a sense of peace, that whatever happens, the group will endure and grow.

If you’re looking for an epic told at the end of a bloody sword, this one may not be for you. But in between all the hacking and slashing, sometimes you find yourself in need of a pleasant diversion. Sweet-natured and therapeutic, The Teller of Small Fortunes is the perfect pick for such times. It feels like coming home.

Sweet-natured and therapeutic, Julie Leong’s The Teller of Small Fortunes is cozy fantasy done right.
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Ezri Maxwell and their sisters fled the house they grew up in—a malevolent McMansion in a gated community where the Maxwells were the only Black residents—as soon as they were old enough. Their parents stayed, and now they’re dead, seemingly in a murder-suicide. To finally face the traumas of the past, Ezri and their sisters will have to return to the nest. 

Model Home is a striking take on a haunted house novel, and in its pages you make it clear that you know the trope’s lineage well. What are some of your favorite haunted houses, and what drew you to the house-as-monster motif?
Having a favorite haunted house feels a little like having a favorite serial killer—it’s hard to hold something in any kind of esteem when what gives it its cultural hold is its degree of terror. I came first to the haunted house genre, if it can be called a genre in its own right, via film. Alejandro Amen&aacutebar’s The Others (2001) upset all my ideas about how we define a haunting in the first place, and for that reason was extremely formative for me when dreaming up Model Home

I also can’t talk about Model Home without discussing Toni Morrison’s Beloved. They don’t have much in common at first glance besides families surviving in, to use Morrison’s word, spiteful homes, but both books also deal with the United States itself as a kind of specter, an entity that possesses. There’s so much that cannot be exorcized, no matter how much we will it. 

 “When writing about a place, I ask, what would I miss about it were I to leave it?”

Model Home is a very internal novel. Can you talk a little about what it was like getting inside Ezri’s head?
Ezri has an extremely fractured, poorly realized identity. At many points in the novel, it’s evident they don’t see themself as a person or self at all. Still, they’re extraordinarily observant and self-examining. Getting into Ezri’s head was a little like writing about a subject the way a scientist might, with a very keen, cold, objective eye. I wrote Ezri the way I’d write someone filling out a lab report about themselves, trying desperately to understand something they never could.

One of the more unique features of the prose in Model Home is the lack of dialogue punctuation when Ezri is remembering a conversation, rather than actively taking part in it in the present. Why did you choose to use quotation marks for conversations in the present but not in the past?
Everything that happens in the past is happening in Ezri’s memory, which necessarily has a dreamlike quality to it. When writing, I aim as much as possible to use the tools of language and prose to mirror various feelings and phenomena. The lack of quotations in the memories calls to attention the haze and murkiness inherent in the act of remembering.

Model Home by Rivers Solomon book jacket

A narrative featuring a heavily racist community could have (obviously) been set in a lot of places. Why did you decide to set Model Home in the suburbs of Dallas?
I spent a lot of time as a kid in the North Dallas suburbs, and it will always have a really intense hold on my imagination. Texas, in general, actually. It’s a strange place with strange people (though, of course, that can be said of anywhere). My mother and I used to visit houses for sale  in fancy gated communities just like the one in Model Home, fantasizing about what life there would be like. There was a short-lived TV series set in Dallas called Good Christian Bitches, based on a memoir of the same name. I’ve never seen the show or read the book, but I remember when I heard that name and learned it was about Dallas, I was like, oh, yes, absolutely, correct.

Over the years, I’ve loved seeing the breadth of places where your mind has taken readers—and how strongly you’re able to invoke those places. How do you go about instilling that sense of place within your work?
I was always that kid who could get lost in a fantasy, and I haven’t outgrown that. I live in the worlds I create in my head, fall asleep thinking about them. It’s genuinely a pleasure. The realm of the imaginary, even when what I’m imagining is something awful, is a refuge for me. It’s like real life but more. Or sometimes less. But in just the right ways I need at a specific time. I like to think that by spending a lot of time in these fantasy worlds, I can pull out the details that give a place its uniqueness. I moved around a lot growing up. I am always longing for places I’ve been before. So when writing about a place, I ask, what would I miss about it were I to leave it? 

I love the environmental contrasts that come up constantly in Model Home—from the heat of Dallas versus the cool of the interiors to the difference between Texas and the U.K. Why did you highlight the extreme contrasts of these environments?
Contrast makes things easier to see. The fake sterility of a new-build development appears sharper against a crumbling old Victorian. But also, I love place. It’s strange how every city, and every pocket within a city, has a flavor and a history and a strangeness. It feels right and correct to write about it and draw out that uniqueness.

Read our review of ‘Model Home’ by Rivers Solomon.

Emmanuelle, Ezri, Elijah, Eden, Eve—why the “E” names?
There’s nothing special about the letter “E” in particular—They used to have all “F” names in a previous draft!—but I thought Eudora might be the sort of parent who would give all of her children names with a similar theme or sonic motif. Since she and her husband shared “E” names by coincidence, she decided on the letter E for her offspring: Ezri, Emmanuelle and Eve. I think the fact that Eve and Ezri kept up the tradition shows the hold their mother still has on them.

We mainly see the siblings’ father through Ezri’s eyes: a distant man who, while not particularly harmful to their upbringing, certainly has his own shortcomings. Do you think that Emmanuelle and Eve would have the same things to say about him?
I think for all the siblings, their mother was such a massive force in their life that no matter what kind of father their dad was, he would’ve been overshadowed. 

Your work spans several media. Has working with different forms—and video in particular—affected how you approach your writing?
I absolutely think through a multimedia lens when I write. Through playwriting, I’ve learned specifically how to think about bodies in space, how they move, how they interact with the objects in a scene. And I always think about each scene as if it were in a film. What is being communicated through the actions of the characters? What does the space look like? What’s the geography of the room they’re in?

Photo of Rivers Solomon by Wasi Daniju.

The author’s new horror novel, Model Home, is a terrifying new take on the haunted house.
Model Home by Rivers Solomon book jacket

Model Home

Read if your Halloween plans are: A horror movie marathon, specifically A24 horror movies

Ezri Maxwell doesn’t know whether their childhood home had ghosts, exactly, but they do know that it was haunted and determined to maim, traumatize and scare them and their Black family into leaving their mostly white Dallas suburb. Desperate to distance themselves from a childhood of constant dread, Ezri and their sisters fled the former model home as soon as they were old enough. Their parents, however, stayed where they were—right until the day they died under mysterious circumstances. At its core, Rivers Solomon’s Model Home is a study of the interior landscape of someone trying to make sense of their life in the wake of extreme tragedy. Ezri’s head is cluttered with the detritus of trauma, from their mother’s ambivalence toward them as a child to the repercussions of living with mental health issues for years, (“a host of diagnoses—which change with whatever clinician I see”). A disturbing tale that explores self-doubt, family drama and childhood trauma, Model Home is a powerful and gut-wrenching addition to the haunted house pantheon.

—Laura Hubbard

Djinnology by Seema Yasminis book jacket

Djinnology 

Read if your Halloween plans are: Exploring potentially haunted places—abandoned strip malls, creaky old houses, creepy caves … you get the idea.

If you’re in the mood for some spine-tingling stories, cozy up to Djinnology: An Illuminated Compendium of Spirits and Stories From the Muslim World, a fictitious (or is it?) compendium that is both fascinating and creepy, and made all the more so by Pulitzer Prize-winner Fahmida Azim’s striking illustrations. Seema Yasmin, a journalist, professor and physician, has created a fictional narrator named Dr. N, a taxonomist and ontologist who has traveled the world to investigate the sometimes benevolent, sometimes malevolent djinn. Djinn, Dr. N writes, have been “haunting humanity since pre-Islamic times.” He submits the fruits of his research to his academic committee to explain his long and unexplained absence from class, in this volume of stories from around the world that capture the long history and great variety of djinn. Many of these stories are related to human events, such as one concerning a ghostlike horseman who allegedly appeared in Cairo’s Tahrir Square at the height of the Arab Spring. Another terrifying tale of more dubious origins takes place in London, when a woman delivering her husband’s specimen to an IVF clinic spots what she thinks is an abandoned baby in the middle of the road. She stops, of course, but things do not go as she expects. Djinnology is beautifully designed, with maps, English and Arabic inscriptions and more, gamely selling a high-octane, between-two-worlds vibe. Most of all, Azim’s haunting illustrations in smoky colors perfectly portray this menagerie of spirits. Readers will find themselves looking over their shoulders.

—Alice Cary

We Love the Nightlife by Rachel Koller Croft book jacket

We Love the Nightlife

Read if your Halloween plans are: A bar crawl in a tiny costume, weather be damned

Quite often in fiction, the figure of the vampire has represented loneliness, but we’ve arguably never seen that sense of yearning quite the way Rachel Koller Croft portrays it in her new novel, We Love the Nightlife. Croft’s protagonist, Amber, is frozen in her party girl prime, turned in the waning days of the 1970s by her maker, the beautiful and manipulative Nicola. Decades later, Amber begins to imagine what life might be like without Nicola, and considers an escape plan. But Nicola’s influence is powerful, her ambitions are vast and her appetite for control deeper than Amber ever imagined. Despite her vampiric nature, Amber feels like one of us. This is mainly due to Croft’s skill; her conversational, warm and relatable prose depicts Amber not as a lonely monster, but as a person longing for freedom in a savage world covered in glitter and awash with pulsing music. We also get to see Nicola’s side of the story and her own brand of yearning, giving the book an antagonist who’s not just remarkably well-developed, but human in her own twisted way. These dueling perspectives, coupled with memorable side characters and a beautifully paced plot, make We Love the Nightlife an engrossing, darkly funny, twisted breakup story that’s perfect for vampire fiction lovers and fans of relationship drama alike.

—Matthew Jackson

American Scary by Jeremy Dauber book jacket

★ American Scary

Read if your Halloween plans are: Watching a brainy horror documentary, or peeking at spooky clips on YouTube

Any horror writer doing their job knows how to tap into the fears that plague us most. Jeremy Dauber’s American Scary: A History of Horror, from Salem to Stephen King and Beyond provides a robust account of how art has reflected American dread for centuries. As it turns out, our history is rife with foundational fear, making it prime territory for some scary storytelling. Dauber starts his “tour of American fear” with our country’s bloody beginnings and proclivity for blaming the devil for everything from bad weather to miscarriage (hello, Salem!). He then passes through slavery, the Industrial Revolution, the Civil War and beyond to more contemporary paranoias reflected in film: murderous technology (The Terminator), individual indifference (the Final Destination series) and surveillance (Paranormal Activity), to name a few. Dauber’s attention to the details of myriad cultural touchstones, both famous and obscure, will entice those who care to tiptoe deeper into the darkest of the dark. American Scary’s greatest success is making readers consider what art may be born of our late-night anxieties. Spooky stuff, huh?

—Amanda Haggard

The Village Library Demon-Hunting Society by C.M. Waggoner book jacket

The Village Library Demon-Hunting Society

Read if your Halloween plans are: Curling up in a chair at home, reading a lightly spooky book or one of the more gothic Agatha Christies

Librarian Sherry Pinkwhistle resides in a quiet hamlet in upstate New York. The only out of the ordinary detail about Ms. Pinkwhistle is that she loves to solve a good murder mystery—not only those in the books she protects and enjoys at work, but also the real-life, grisly deaths in the otherwise sleepy little town of Winesap. But when a string of local murders hits a little too close to home, Sherry realizes that she can no longer remain an unattached bystander. A demon, or several, might be at the heart of these ever-increasing deaths, and Sherry will need the help of her skeptical friends and her possibly-possessed cat to root out the evil in Winesap. C.M. Waggoner’s The Village Library Demon-Hunting Society is a stunning blend of genres, a dark supernatural adventure masquerading as a cozy mystery—and by the time readers realize this, they, like Sherry, are too deeply entrenched in the case to let it go. Waggoner infuses the pages with darkly humorous scenes and snappy dialogue, as well as unexpected magical touches that hearken back to the author’s previous fantasy novels, a combination that’s perfect for fans of horror tropes as well as lovers of mystery. Sherry Pinkwhistle is a sleuth to be reckoned with, and beneath her frumpy and soft exterior lies a pleasant surprise: a clever, determined heroine who will stop at nothing to protect the place she calls home and the people who live there. 

—Stephanie Cohen-Perez

Eerie Legends by Ricardo Diseño book jacket

Eerie Legends 

Read if your Halloween plans are: Circling up with friends and family for a night of scary stories

Eerie Legends: An Illustrated Exploration of Creepy Creatures, the Paranormal, and Folklore From Around the World arrives like Halloween candy, just in time for the spookiest season of the year. Austin, Texas-based artist Ricardo Diseño’s bold, offbeat illustrations don’t simply complement these spine-tingling stories, they lead the way. Each chapter blends elements of fiction and nonfiction, and includes a corresponding full-page illustration that stands on its own as a fully realized piece of art. The horror elements here are plenty scary, but skew toward the creature-feature end of the spectrum—think Universal Studio monsters, or even Troma’s The Toxic Avenger. The chapter on Krampus details the yuletide terror’s appearance with frightening specificity: “Part man, part goat, and part devil. . . . His tongue is red, forked, creepy, and always whipping around.” Diseño’s hoofed monster, straight out of the Blumhouse cinematic universe, is shown in the midst of abducting a child. Each chapter ends with a campfire-style tale about the designated monster, written with Lovecraftian zeal by Steve Mockus. As an added incentive, the cover glows in the dark—a feature I hadn’t noticed until after I fell asleep with it on my bedside table. Talk about eerie.

—Laura Hutson Hunter

The Empusium by Olga Tokarczuk book jacket

★ The Empusium

Read if your Halloween plans are: A hike contemplating the macabre beauty of seasonal decay—be sure to leave the woods before dark!

Nobel laureate Olga Tokarczuk’s fabulous novel, The Empusium: A Health Resort Horror Story, opens in 1913, when Polish 24-year-old Mieczyslaw Wojnicz arrives in the village of Görbersdorf, Germany, to be treated for tuberculosis. Tokarczuk is known for her penchant for the mythical and her deft, dark satirical wit, and as the subtitle, “A Health Resort Horror Story,” would lead readers to hope, the forests above the village whisper and echo with eerie sounds. The narration seems to come from ghostly entities who at times “vacate the house via the chimney or the chinks between the slate roof tiles—and then gaze from afar, from above.” A cemetery in a nearby town discloses evidence of a ritual killing every November. It is September, and the clock is ticking. Translated from Polish by Antonia Lloyd-Jones, The Empusium is about the rigid patriarchal world of pre-WWI Europe, and the tension between rationality and emotion. It is also about a young person coming of age—like Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain, from which it draws inspiration. Facing a threat he does not understand, Mieczyslaw responds to the mysteries around him with curiosity and seeks his own way forward. Tokarczuk also favors a new path and, as usual, casts her enthralling spell.

—Alden Mudge

Whether you’re a homebody or a thrill-hunter, we’ve got a seasonal, spine-tingling read for you.

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