Becky's Top 20 Horror for Libraries of the 2010s

As part of the updated edition to my book, on which I am currently working, I have created a top 20 list of horror for libraries published from 2010-2019.

I want to be clear about the "for libraries" part. Those of you out there reading this from the general horror fiction world may have some disagreement with my choices, and I would say to you, you are absolutely correct.

This is NOT a list of the very best horror written by any person in these last 10 years, rather, it is a list of titles that are important to libraries for a variety of reasons, reasons I will expand upon in the book [I mean I have to give you a reason to buy it].

As the library world's horror expert, consider this a "must have" collection development list. If you have neglected your horror sections over the last decade, this list can help you get back in horror shape.

I will give a little bit of commentary on some of the titles and have comments about the overall state of horror over the last decade afterwards. Links go to my review where possible on Goodreads.

Finally, please note, I have no Stephen King listed here. He did have some great novels in the last decade, but you don't need me to tell you to buy his books. For the most part, they come into your collections automatically. I am here to help you improve and learn, not to tell you what you already know.

Here, from 20 to 1, is Becky's Top 20 Horror for Libraries of the 2010s

20. In the Valley of the Sun by Andy Davidson
19. Rust Maidens by Gwendolyn Kiste

• These are 2 important debuts from the last 2 years and it is why I put them at the start of the list. Davidson and Kiste are names that will continue to reverberate in the next decade. Get their books in your collections now. Davidson's second novel is out early 2020.

18. Rot and Ruin by Jonathan Maberry

• Yes a YA title, but for libraries, this is the perfect entry zombie novel for adults who are curious about the trope but are also a little nervous about it being "too much." Also, this novel has one of the most beautiful endings to any book I have ever read. Seriously. 

17. The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes

• When writing the second edition of my book, I argued with one of my editors that horror was moving to include science fiction, and not just fantasy, as the speculative origin of the horror. I stood my ground on that change and I think it is safe to say, I have been proven right many times over the last 10 years. The Shining Girls is an excellent example. This is a terrifying serial killer novel, but the fear is increased and amplified by the time travel. 

16. Children of the Dark by Jonathan Janz

• The title that got him into library collections. This decade Janz established himself as the new "King of Pulps," and libraries should carry every title he puts out to serve this readership.

15. The Hunger by Alma Katsu

• Historical horror of the previous decade was dominated by Dan Simmons, but Katsu is now the leader in this subgenre, one that also happens to have a wide cross over appeal with those who do not consider themselves horror readers.

14. The Troop by Nick Cutter

• A brilliant pulp horror modern classic, also with a SF origin to the monster. But also here because it is an example of well respected literary authors who feel the need to use a pseudonym in order to write horror. This is a trend that is still going strong. Cutter is actually Craig Davidson. Another title I loved this decade, The Reapers Are the Angels by Alden Bell is the pseudonym for Joshua Gaylord. And in early 2020 a new title The Chill will come out by Scott Carson who is really Michael Koryta. In this article, Koryta shares why he thought he needed a pseudonym for a supernatural story. It's a sad state that I hope the next decade fixes. I hope people are loud and proud about the horror they are writing. But that doesn't take away the fact that The Troop is awesome pseudonyms or not.

13. Fever Dream by Samanta Schweblin

• A short novel [technically a novella?] that reads exactly like the title says it will. You will read it in one or two sittings because you won't be able to stop. And it will never leave you.... Another title that pairs well with Fever Dream is The Grip of It by Jac Jemc

12. Hex by Thomas Olde Heuvelt

• Dutch horror master whose first novel in English was a huge hit. It came out of nowhere to claim the top spot on the 2017 RUSA CODES READING LIST for Horror. It used techniques from classic horror of the past and incorporated new technology very well. Also, looking back, it was one of the first examples of the reemergence of the popularity of the witch trope. And it is scary as heck.

11. Bird Box by Josh Malerman

• If you work in a library you know this book needs to be on the list somewhere. It was a phenomenon both when it came out and then a few years later when it was a movie. Malerman is now one of the best known authors in the genre.

10. The Passage by Justin Cronin

• Another example of the growing use of science fiction in horror during the decade. The first in a trilogy and, in my opinion, the best in the trilogy. When The Passage came out it was so different than anything that came before it. And it has since inspired many more like it, most recently, Wanderers. This is the big horror novel that began the decade and it is still having reverberations.

9. The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All by Laird Barron

• Barron's stories are technically brilliant and immersive for the reader. He is also one of the most influential writers for today's new voices. This is one a few story collection he released in the decade, but it is also his most accessible.

8. My Best Friend's Exorcism by Grady Hendrix

• Hendrix has to be on this list somewhere. Not only have his books been ubiquitous throughout the decade but he has also become on the the genre's spokespeople to the wider world. From his award winning Paperbacks from Hell to his essays on Tor.com, on NPR, and all over social media, Hendrix proudly beats the drum for horror and its importance to all. I have chosen this title, his second because I feel like it proved that HorrorStor wasn't a one-hit-wonder. 

7. The Drowning Girl by Caitlin Kiernan

• Kiernan is a horror master. One of the genre's greatest living writers. She is also one of its best practitioner of Lovercraftian and weird fiction. She has many novels, novellas, and story collections over the course of this decade but The Drowning Girl, is one of her best novels, period. It also is a great example of how she writes, both technically and the themes she explores.

6. Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones

•  It's a werewolf tale yes, but it is also a coming of age story and about the underclass in America. This is the novel that brought Jones into libraries. 2020 will be his breakout year, but Mongrels foreshadowed this.

5. The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle

• The best horror novella Tor.com has put out in the last decade, and they have put out a lot of them [Mapping the Interior by Stephen Graham Jones is a close second]. LaValle is becoming one of the biggest and most critically acclaimed horror novelists of our time, but this novella is also an example of the trend of the reclaiming of Lovecraft by people of color and women. In this case, LaValle is retelling an actual Lovecraft story from the POV of a black man. As I like to say about this novella [you can hear me say it here too], it is as if LaValle is giving Lovecraft the middle finger while at the same time acknowledging his importance and influence.

4. NOS4A2 by Joe Hill

• Hill has to be on this list somewhere, and NOS4A2 was what he called, his "horror thesis." I know this book is divisive. Personally I love it, but that is not why it is so high on the list. It's here because it is THE epic horror novel of the decade and Hill is one of the decades biggest names. 

3. The Fisherman by John Langan

• A near perfect example of cosmic horror. Universally proclaimed the best horror novel of the year when it came out. A great introduction to modern cosmic/Lovercraftian horror for both readers and writers.

2. Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado

• I mean it was a finalist for the National Book Award and it 100% horror stories. Do I need to say more? This book was dark, weird, sexy, thought provoking, scary, and imaginative. 

1. A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay

• While this novel came out right in the middle of the decade, I feel like it marks a HUGE turning point for the genre. It is a story that harkens back to the genre's classics [most obviously We Have Always Lived in the Castle and The Exorcist, but also many other titles are referenced here] and yet is also completely new. The way Tremblay crafts a horror story is gut wrenching. He breaks you, the reader throughout the course of the story and yet, you are glad you read it. You also never know if what you read was 100% real or if there was supernatural elements, and that is on purpose. I charged myself with picking THE NOVEL of the decade by creating this list and I honestly didn't argue with myself on this one.

Some general commentary about the make up of the list and what is says about the genre as a whole; again most of these topics will be explored in much greater detail in the new book:

• It is 30% women and 30% own voices. However, one of the biggest trends in horror that I am seeing is the rise of women and diverse voices producing some of the best work in the genre today. I predict that in 10 more years, these numbers will inch toward 50%.
• There are 2 works in translation on this list [Hex and Fever Dream] and one foreign author who writes in English [Beukes]. American audiences are going to start seeing a lot more horror from all over the world.
• Stories are still important in horror. As are novellas.
• Lovecraftian/Weird fiction got its foothold in this decade and has only continuing to grow. It is the most common trope right now.
• I will not use the term "literary horror" because it is a term that demeans all horror in its assumption that only select titles within the genre have literary merit, when in fact every single horror book has literary merit. Instead, I think it is important to note that the "literary" world is finally noticing horror as worthy of their esteem. This list contains multiple titles that have been nominated for or won national literary awards.

I will have much more about this list and the current state of horror in the new book. It will be done by the end of 2020 and out for libraries to purchase in mid 2021. But this is a lot of useful information for you to use right now.

Finally, I would also like to thank librarian and horror author Corey Farrenkopf, for giving this list the once over and giving me invaluable feedback that improved this list.

31 Days of Horror: Day 12-- Why I Love Horror by Chris Hawkins With a Giveaway

Tuesday, I began a mini series, within a series, within a series. Wait...what? Becky that is very confusing. Okay, so let me explain.

You are currently reading the 31 Days of Horror series and today's post is part of the "Why I Love Horror" series within that series. However, it is also part of three days featuring authors who play their trade in the self publishing sphere, authors who are putting out solid books, titles readers love, but with little to no marketing push behind them.

All three of these authors are also members of the Horror Writers Association and they have offered up a book for one of you. All titles offered are finished copies that you should add to your library's collections immediately. The rest of you, should consider ordering a copy for yourselves.

Please see the most recent giveaway for rules. Those rules apply here as well. I will pull 3 separate winners over the weekend. The third name pulled will get today's title.

Now you can see what I mean about this being "a mini series, within a series, within a series." So let's begin.

Today I am featuring the brand new, debut novel by HWA Chicago Chapter Co-Chair Christopher Hawkins, Downpour.

I have thoughts, but I begin  with Daniel Kraus, who gave this unsoltiiced blurb after reading the novel.

"This book hits like a summer squall and never lets up, a real-time, one-location doom machine that earns its place beside The Mist." - Daniel Kraus, author of Whalefall 

I whole heartedly agree that this book is an excellent readalike for The Mist. That alone is reason enough to order a copy for your collections right now. From Goodreads:

A sudden storm appears above an isolated farmhouse in rural Illinois, bringing with it a relentless and unnatural rain. A rain that eats away at everything it touches. A rain that turns people into monsters.

Trapped inside his crumbling home, a father must do everything he can to keep his family from falling apart. But the rain calls to them, and not everyone wants to stay inside.

Haunted by memories of loss, he must put aside his painful past and find a way to keep them all safe. But the rain shows no signs of stopping, and time is running out.

From the award-winning author of Suburban Monsters comes a heartbreaking tale of survival and terror. 

I read this mostly on sunny days and I was checking the sky for rain clouds multiple times, with like actual fear of what I might see. Click here for more from on this book, including this:

Three Words That Describe This Book: intense dread, compressed time frame, trapped

I have a finished copy of Downpour for 1 winner, but again, if Daniel Kraus and I like it, isn't that enough for you to order it? Just in case, here is Chris himself to tell you why Horror can do it all.

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What Horror Means To Me
by Chris Hawkins

 

Whenever someone asks me why it is that I love horror, I think of roller coasters.

There’s a feeling you get when you’re at the top of a roller coaster. And I don’t mean the shiny, magnetic ones that shoot you down the track like you’re being launched off the deck of an aircraft carrier. I mean the old-school rattle-coasters, the ones that are just an accumulation of rickety hills made of piled-up wood. The kind where the cross bracing looks more improvised than planned, and you’re pretty sure some of it is missing and what’s left is all cracked because the last time it was painted probably wasn’t in your lifetime.

But you get on the thing because it has to be safe, right? Otherwise, why would all these other people be in line to get on it, too? I mean, they’re hearing all the same screams that you are and none of them seem to be thinking anything of it, and when the cars arrive they’re more or less full, so you’re pretty sure that they’re coming back with everyone they left with.

So you sit at the front because everyone in this country knows that first is best. You climb in and fasten your threadbare seatbelt–no fancy shoulder harness here!--and you wait. You wait long enough to notice that the kid working the controls doesn’t even look old enough to be in high school, and the one who checked the seatbelt barely glanced at the thing at all. Then you shudder a bit and wonder if it’s too late to get off. Just when you’ve resolved to do exactly that, the whole thing lurches forward and there’s no turning back.

That’s when the chain catches you and starts to pull you up. And it’s slow, so slow that it feels like time is stretching, and you’re not getting any closer to the top even though the ground is getting farther away. And the whole time, you’re hearing the heavy ratcheting of the chain, like the tick of a clock counting down to doomsday, and you realize that the machinery that makes this thing go probably isn’t any different than it was back in the days when men wore top hats and kids died of things like Polio and Smallpox.

And you’re sure now that some of the cross bracing really is missing because you can feel the whole structure swaying ever so slightly as you climb. And by now you’re certain that you made a bad choice–maybe even a fatally bad choice–but you’re so high up now that the people look like ants and when you chance a look over the side you see that the only thing between you and the ground they’re walking on is a sheer drop. You’re committed. The only way out is through.

The top is in sight now, and it’s worse than you thought, because you can’t see anything over the crest in the hill. You know that the track has to be there, that it has to keep going, but for a moment you’re not so sure. You’re at the summit now–you have to be–but all there is ahead is empty air.

The chain lets go, and everything goes quiet. There’s a pause while you wait for gravity to take you, and because you sat up front you can feel it wanting to pull your body out ahead of the cars, and there’s only that skinny strap of seatbelt to hold you back.

That’s when the feeling starts to take hold.

It starts in your gut, just above where the seatbelt is digging against your hips, a sickening sense that something is about to go terribly, horribly wrong. It tingles its way up your spine and across your limbs and into your fingertips. You push back with your legs and you grip the hand-bar tighter, but gravity is coming for you no matter what you do because gravity is inevitable and gravity always wins. You can see the track ahead of you–at least some of it–and the drop is steep, steeper than you thought it would be. There’s no way this can end well, no reason why it should end well, and you never should have agreed to go on this ride in the first place.

And at the same time, there’s a voice in your head that starts to rise above the rush of blood in your ears, and that voice is positively giddy. That voice knows that this is exactly what you came for. It knows that you stood in line for forty-five minutes just so you could experience this moment, this feeling, with your heart pumping and your body amped up like it’s ready to run. That voice is at odds with everything your body is telling you, which only makes your body work that much harder to be heard. You’re elated and a little bit sick all at once, and when gravity finally takes you and you roar down that track the voice comes out in a scream.

The ride is over way too quickly, but that feeling? That feeling lasts. It trembles through your legs as they touch solid ground. The world is tilting, and it forces you to look at everything like it’s brand new. Colors are brighter. You feel the cool breeze tingle the little hairs on your arms and all of it is telling you that you’re alive. You did the frightening thing and came out whole on the other side. And you want to do it again.

That’s why I love horror. It’s the only kind of storytelling that even comes close to replicating that feeling. The slow building of dread. The terror of knowing what’s lurking around the corner but still being powerless to stop it. The catharsis that comes when you’ve been through hell but come out safe on the other side. It’s not the same as the roller coaster ride, but when it’s done right, it’s better. It’s so, so much better.

No other genre can do that. Romance might get the blood moving. Thrillers might give you a shot of adrenaline. Science fiction may take you to places unknown, but only horror can do it all. That’s why I read horror. That’s why I watch horror. That’s why I write horror. That’s why I love horror.

So who wants to go again?

31 Days of Horror Day 22: Why I Love Horror by Sadie Hartmann aka Mother Horror

Today's "Why I Love Horror" post is from a horror reviewer, but not one from the library world. Sadie Hartmann, also known as Mother Horror is one of the most prolific professional horror reviewers out there. And while she writes to the reader market, I enjoy how much she articulates the appeal of the books she is reviewing. She writes reviews that are extremely useful to us; writing her reviews to the best reader of the book, articulating the feel, and explaining what type of reader would most enjoy the book. All the information we in the library world most care about.

She reviews more books that I would ever be able to since this horror thing is only a part of what I do, so all of you should follow her reviews on Goodreads to stay up to date. She also runs a horror book subscription service, Night Worms, which I will write about more tomorrow, but since she refers to it below, and you might be interested in more information, I wanted mention that today.

Here is Sadie Hartmann on why she loves horror, including a recommendation of a title I featured here and here, and I promise, we 100% did NOT plan that.

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My name is Sadie Hartmann, otherwise known as “Mother Horror” on social media. I earned that nickname by luring hundreds of readers to the dark side. *evil laugh* 

I read and review horror fiction for a bi-monthly publication called, SCREAM Magazine as well as a publisher of books and magazines called, Cemetery Dance. In my social media circles, it is not uncommon to find fellow lovers of horror fiction but in my everyday life, it’s rare. It’s very, very rare. In fact, when I tell people what I do for a living (Read and review horror books as well as co-own a horror book subscription service called Night Worms) I am almost always met with a small variety of the same reactions: Shock, doubt, confusion and the question-- “Why?” 

The why is easy to explain. I’ve been reading horror books my whole life. I was raised on it. My mother reads it and owns a huge library and she encouraged my appetite for it at an early age. At first, I read chapter books for young adults that were spooky or mildly creepy like The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare or all the Lewis Barnavelt series by John Bellairs and illustrated by Edward Gorey.

But eventually I gravitated towards adult horror and what my mom had available on her shelves, Stephen King, Peter Straub, Anne Rice and classic horror like Dracula and Frankenstein.

So having a childhood affection for the macabre is part of who I am but there’s more to it than that. I’m a timid person and a scaredy cat. I don’t take a lot of physical risks, so outdoor adventuring is not really my thing. I’m far too practical and have a strong sense of self preservation. I also don’t enjoy horror movies. I don’t like jump scares and graphic images that have come from someone else’s messed up imagination. Those kinds of psychological and mental horrors have a lasting effect on me--making me feel uneasy and anxious for days after viewing. But I have discovered the joy of diving into a deep read of horrific things told by talented storytellers. There’s a thrill of having the words leap off the page and do that cinematic dance of images played out in my mind’s landscape. It feels like I’m watching a movie but instead of trusting in a director’s visuals--I get to work in tandem with the author to conjure up my own mental pictures. I’m in control of how terrifying this story will get for me. It’s both tantalizing and thrilling to interact with a book as much or as little as I want to.

Sometimes I let a book completely get a grip on my imagination and I feel every bit of the chilling imagery. Other times, if I’m home alone or something, I can lock it down and only let so much of that get through. For someone who doesn’t venture out beyond their comfort zone too much in real life, horror fiction is my opportunity to do just that in ways that I feel comfortable with. I get to set the pace and the boundaries and the limits. It’s my passion. The last three years I have been reading and reviewing horror, I have worked hard to promote it--the end game is that the authors that I love to read will be able to sell more and more books so they can continue writing and we can continue to enjoy it.

Over the course of about 3 years I have developed professional working relationships with authors, publishers and trade people in the industry but I would also call some of them friends. Those that work in the horror fiction profession are some of the most generous, hard working, friendly people I have ever interacted with. This is another facet of my passion for horror--to serve these individuals as a freelance promoter of their work is a great joy and privilege. I feel like it’s the least I can do to give back to the people who have given me so much by way of hours upon countless hours of reading enjoyment.

Part of this passion has manifested into that horror book subscription service, Night Worms. Every month, my business partner Ashley and I scour the industry and work closely with publishers, editors, authors and agents to bring the best of indie and traditionally published horror to the readers who love it. Sure, this is a business model designed for Ashley and myself to get paychecks but primarily, we use it as a vehicle to get quality “under the radar” horror into the right hands. It has been a pleasure watching readers discover the talents of self or indie published authors like Chad Lutzke or John Boden-both of which are immensely talented and write compelling, authentic coming-of-age stories that are not the typical brand of horror people generally associate with the genre.

John Boden for instance, just wrote this genre-bending novella called WALK THE DARKNESS DOWN that is this Weird-Western-Cosmic-Horror mashup. It’s amazing. I wish he was a household name so everyone could experience it.

Likewise a debut novel called GRIND YOUR BONES TO DUST by Nicholas Day. This is the most terrifying antagonist I have ever read and Day’s storytelling voice is magnetic and fresh--I have never read its equal. (Out October 2019)

Lastly, I love horror that can crossover into a young adult market like THE BONE WEAVER’S ORCHARD by Sarah Read. This book sits comfortably in the subgenre of “Dark Academy”. The young protagonist is an introvert with the quirky habit of collecting bugs. He shows up at a school for boys and finds out that strange things are happening there at night.

It’s a must read! I devoured it.

It’s my goal to make sure good books like these get into the right reader’s hands and don’t get passed over simply because there is no awareness of them. I love horror but it’s my theory that everyone would love it if they read the right books. There’s so much out there. 

31 Days of Horror: Day 21-- Mark Matthews on Addiction and Horror

Today I want to talk to you about how we can find books for our most vulnerable patrons, those facing addiction. 

I know that there is a lot of talk in the library world about the place of librarians in an overdose emergency; whether or not we should be taught how to dose Narcan, our role as de facto social workers, etc....

But that is not what I want to talk about today. Rather, I want to talk about how addiction is an issue that many people in all of our communities deal with. Every single person out there has either struggled with addiction or has an intimate connection to someone who has. And yes, I said every single person. Maybe your connection is not super dramatic, but all of us living in America today are aware of addiction and the struggle of those who are held in its grip, myself included.

But yet, we still don't talk about addiction in "polite" circles in public, even though many of our patrons are struggling with addiction and or its consequences.  And we especially don't have a list of books at our fingertips to suggest to people who are craving a story that might capture even a fraction of what they are struggling with inside, or even to understand what a friend or loved one who has an addiction is struggling with.

That is why when I crossed paths with author Mark Matthews' Garden of Fiends: Tales of Addiction Horror, I knew I had to get him to talk about his book to library workers. And in talking to him about this wonderful first book, I found out he was almost done with a second volume, with even bigger name authors. 

The new collection, Lullabies for Suffering: Tales of Addiction Horror is available for preorder at a reduced rate here from Amazon or here from Barnes and Noble. 

The collection's topic hit a nerve with both readers and writers, and I know both fill a void in our collections, one we desperately need to fill. 

I asked Matthews to come here on the blog to talk about himself, his love of horror, and his commitment to these collections. Why do addiction and horror go so well together? How do these stories help those struggling with addiction? And why for him, horror was a way out of his own addiction. In fact, he has a few novels that also fit into the addition horror subgenre.

This is one of my most important posts. I am urging you to buy both collections for your libraries. We know our patrons need to read these. We need to have them there for patrons to find. 

But let me have the author tell you from his first hand experience. And thank you Mark Matthews for sharing such a personal story so that you can help others.

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The Tao of Horror 

By Mark Matthews 

What do I love about Horror? 

In a sense, I hate horror—the trauma, the unjust suffering, the nefarious powers beyond our control that threaten everything we love. The worst of humans. The darkest of monsters.  

But to vividly outline the precarious state of being human, of facing all our hurt, all our pain, the multitude of fears that threaten everything we covet, there is nothing I like more than horror. It is art that is about life, not about death. Good horror is life affirming and actually challenges me to be a better person, to look inward.  

I’ll call it The Tao of Horror, where things are given definition by their opposite—the material of the bowl itself is not what gives it meaning, but rather the empty space. When we light a candle it always casts a shadow, and when we go into the dark, it always outlines the light.  

As Joe Hill so aptly noted: “Horror is not about extreme sadism, it is about extreme empathy.” When I read a work of horror that resonates, it’s because I want to “hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me,” for the best of horror understands us on the most primal level, and is never afraid to go there. When we dive deep into the muck, basking in the sunshine means so much more. 

I’ve met so many writers as part of the Horror Writers Association, and it just affirms my belief that horror writers have some of the finest hearts around, for they are in touch with the sensitive, fragile nature of the human spirit.  

The way I view the world, I see and feel the horror everywhere. I am constantly trying to escape to freedom, to that proverbial cabin in the woods only to find it a deep, dark spot in my own psyche where monsters lurk that can’t be killed by one shot, can’t be put down until I face things that I was trying to avoid. Odd thing is, good horror actually relaxes me. I need the catharsis, the intensity, the onslaught. Both in the art I consume, and the art I create.  

There’s a section of Stephen King’s IT where adult Bill Denbrough, the horror writer, states (slight paraphrase) “People always ask me where I get my ideas, and the real question is why I get my ideas?”  

And the why I write horror? It is not because I am trying to scare others. That is not it. I am happy with any feeling besides boredom and apathy I can create with a story. Nope, I figured out that I like to write horror because I am the one who is scared. I am just a scared little boy, and writing squeezes that out of me. 

My fears have changed, and I am not so much scared of monsters under my bed or the sounds in my dark basement, my fears are now elsewhere 

I am scared of a universe with a God that does not exist. Or a non-caring God. I am scared of randomness of tragedy. Scared of my own feelings and expressing them. Scared of my own limitations, that I am wasting my life, born with whatever talents that are like seeds in the soil ready to grow but never saw sunlight. Scared of my selfishness, that I am a raging, psychopathic narcissist, Fear of looking certain people in the eye. Fear they’ll understand me for a second, and that we’ll connect, or fear I’ll never be understood by another living soul.  Scared I am doing it wrong. Scared you are mocking me right now. Scared that something I missed long ago made everything I am doing right now irrelevant. Scared I’m waiting for my real life to begin while I live some fake one. Scared that the finest humans of this world are destroyed by the worst ones in a mass, unnoticeable genocides, and my own daughters are next.  

So that’s why I write horror. Because I am the one who is afraid, not that I am trying to scare others. 

Makes perfect sense that a coward like me relied on drugging and drinking for so long and I dove deep into addiction – using every substance I could get my hands on until it nearly killed me. But the greatest fears grow the strongest courage, and somehow I found the courage to stay clean and sober. Writing is the new drug that brings out the weird. The dark. The terrible fear I have. 

Before you go calling 911 to have someone come and check on me, I should note that I have an immense capacity for joy. I smile often, have an incredible family, am blessed with many riches, and my favorite song growing up (which still makes me happy) is Disney’s  "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah."  There are plenty of days I can't open my mouth without a song jumping right out of it. I feel the light and happy just as much as the dark, and do believe there is a spirit that flows through all of us, and it is one of beneficence.    

Writing about the darkness, and consuming art about the darkness, is just shining a light inside. All those existential fears need a face, and I need to stare them down so I can move on. Much of my psyche and deepest fears is my addiction, and so when I bleed on the page, that is what comes out—addiction horror.  

What better way to capture the barren emotional and physical state of addiction than a work of horror? Until you’ve had your mind and soul hijacked by addiction, it is difficult to comprehend, for in the throes of a craving, the desire to obtain and use substances equals the life force for survival itself. Imagine yourself drowning and being told not to swim to the surface for air. Obsessions should be so mild. 

My novels Milk-Blood, On the Lips of Children, and All Smoke Rises, are all works that portray the horrors of addiction horror with an unflinching honesty, but with empathy for the plight of the addict. After writing these works, I reached out to other horror writers, and edited the anthology Garden of Fiends: Tales of Addiction Horror, (which included a tale by the late Jack Ketchum who personifies the heart of a horror writer) and the upcoming Lullabies for Suffering: Tales of Addiction Horror. 

Lullabies for Suffering goes on presale this month, and features some incredibly talented writers including Caroline Kepnes, Gabino Iglesias, John FD Taff, Mercedes M Yardley, Kealan Patrick Burke, and one novella of my own. This project is very personal for me, and if I am the only one who reads the kaleidoscope of voices, it will all have been worth it. 

All the stories are about damaged humans craving for highs and wholeness but finding something more tragic and horrific on the other side. The idea of a ‘lullaby for suffering’, (title inspired by Leonard Cohen) fit so well, for addiction starts like a sweet lullaby sung by a trusted loved one. It washes away the pains of the day and wraps you in the warmness of the womb. Nothing hurts and every dream is possible. Yet soon enough, this warm state of bliss becomes a cold shiver and the ecstasy and dreams become nightmares.

In some sense, all horror is that same ‘lullaby for suffering.’ It sings a comforting song to our most primal selves, the darkest parts, the ‘cracks inside where the light comes shining through.’ A good work of horror can serve, as Franz Kafka said, “as the axe for the frozen sea within us.” For there certainly is a frozen sea, and the result is a spiritual hunger for warmth and wholeness. Our fractured selves suffer in the darkness and crave for healing—or if not healing, at least relief from suffering. Reading and writing horror, in some Taoist paradox, actually offers that relief, if but for a little while.

Mark Matthews is the author of On the Lips of Children, Body of Christ, All Smoke Rises, and Milk-Blood. He is editor of Garden of Fiends and the upcoming Lullabies For Suffering: Tales of Addiction Horror. Matthews is a graduate of the University of Michigan and a licensed professional counselor who has worked in behavioral health for over 20 years. He lives near Detroit with his wife and two daughters. Reach him at  WickedRunPress@gmail.com 

31 Days of Horror: Day 11- Why I Love Horror by Shawnna Deresch and Announcing the Chicagoland Chapter of HWA

The Horror Writers Association, which was the topic of Day 10, also hosts local chapters. My local chapter had lapsed over the last few years, but thanks to today's "Why I Love Horror" essayist, it is coming back!. Meet Shawnna Deresch:

Shawnna Deresch has been crafting scary stories since she could first talk. Her love of horror began when she was a child watching horror movies with her father and now as an adult is obsessed with anything horror related. She's a lover of paranormal investigations and loves checking out cemeteries and old buildings.

She travels extensively and splits her time between the Chicagoland area and anywhere down south where the temps don't go below 80 degrees. She lives with her three children, two black rescue cats and one blue-eyed puppy in a condo near the beach of a big city.  

She is a member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA) and is the organizer of the Chicago Chapter of the Horror Writers Association.  You can find her on Twitter: @shawnnaderesch. You can find the HWA Chicago Chapter on Twitter: @ChicagoHWA. Sign up for information about the new chapter here. 

I asked Deresch to take a break from rallying the Chicagoland Horror Troops and let all of us know what she loves horror. 

Why I Love Horror 

 

My name is Shawnna Deresch and, okay, I’m finally ready to admit it. I am a horror junkie. I’m not sure when I became an addict of horror, but I’m sure I’ve had this addiction my whole life. I am also a horror writer. I love to write about the darker side of things. It’s what I’ve always been attracted to. It was difficult for me to admit that I am a horror writer because for many years a lot of my close writer friends looked down at the horror genre calling it a bastard child of genres. Maybe that’s why it’s taken me so long to admit that I write horror. But horror is what I love to write and to read. By the way, those friends are wrong and are missing out on some great works. 

 

I’m a relative newcomer to the horror writing community. Even though I’ve been writing most of my life, I have a Bachelor’s degree in journalism, it wasn’t until the last few years that I decided to finally put roots down in the horror writing community. And that’s not easy for me being an extreme introvert. I’m a lurker on social media and to think about having to socialize terrifies me. And meeting in person at conferences, workshops, etc. puts my anxiety into high alert.  

 

As someone who’s battled and continues to struggle with debilitating anxiety, depression and PTSD on a daily basis, it’s hard to put yourself out there when it feels like you’re exposing yourself and you feel all of your insecurities are revealed to the world. In the not so recent past, I’ve been judged on my looks, that I’m too thin or too fat (I struggle with bulimia), the clothes I wear and the music I listen to and so many other things that people are always trying to box me into what they think a woman and a woman horror writer should be/look like. And have been told things to my face like “don’t kid yourself, you’ll never be good enough so don’t even try” or the one statement that makes me cringe and ball up my fist ready to fight is “you’re too quiet and sweet to like horror”. What? You can’t be sweet and quiet and like horror? Ridiculous! The one that still gets to me is “stick with what you know”. Well, I am sticking with what I know, and that’s horror.  

 

It does surprise many people I’ve known for years when they find out that I write horror and I ask them why it surprises them, because, to me, horror is all around us. It surrounds us and you don’t even have to go far to see it. Watching the news is horror to me. Crime, injustices are horror. Even ordinary everyday things can be scary to some people.   

 

Understanding why I read and write horror is complex. I believe it deserves a place on the shelves of libraries and bookstores as its own dedicated section. 

 

Reading and writing is a big part of my process in healing from my traumas. I have many reasons why I read horror, but my main one is as a temporary escape from the world.  Reading helps me to decompress from the outside world.  

 

I write horror for many reasons.  For me, it’s therapeutic enabling to cast out my demons so to speak and it lets me put on paper all of my trauma and horrible experiences. I’m able to stare those fears and demons down. I think that’s one of the reasons I like to write survival horror. Following along on a character’s journey trying to navigate and survive anything from a slasher/serial killer to an apocalypse can sometimes be cathartic.  

 

I was lucky when I was young. My mom gave me the best gift that I still cherish to this day. That gift was the love for reading. My sister and I still laugh about how our parents never let us do anything and we felt too sheltered, but the one thing my mom and my dad did was to never censor anything I read, the music I listened to, or the movies I watched. Needless to say, I took total advantaged of that. I got to experience the world through reading. My mother always had a book nearby her. And to this day, I have at least one physical copy of a book, one on my Kindle and one Audible book at all times. And two of the three of those books are always horror related.  

 

My mom encouraged me to visit the local library. Some of my best summer memories as a child was going to the library about 4 times a week with my sister and best friend spending hours browsing books and just reading in a corner of the library where there were beanbag chairs hidden away from everyone. I even volunteered there like stamping the due date cards, yes, before computer/digital/internet times, just so we could spend time around books. Even to this day, when I travel, which is a lot, I’ll visit the local libraries in the city where I am at.  

 

And in junior high, I’d spend mornings before classes and after school while waiting for my bus, in the library with my best friend looking up books on witchcraft, ghosts, haunted houses, anything that was horror/paranormal/occult related. The librarians knew me by name and knew that I was the quiet girl who sat in the corner reading books about how to cast spells.  

 

I write primary psychological, religious (possession/demonology) survival horror and once in a while about phobias. But I’ll read any type of subgenre horror as long as there are well written, fully developed characters. I love character driven stories.  

 

One of my all-time favorite horror authors is Bentley Little. When I read The Town for the first time, I knew that I wanted to write like him. That was years ago. And now I’ve found some of my favorite books of all time from authors such Gwendolyn Kiste who penned Rust Maidens a body horror, coming of age novel that I could not put down and devoured the book as soon as I got it. Not a lot of books can creep me out, but Blanky by Kealan Patrick Burke did that from beginning to end. I now want to read everything he’s ever written. I discovered that there is other literary horror than just Shirley Jackson’s work such as author Jac Jemc’s writing. The Lottery by Jackson will always be one of my favorites. But I loved Jemc’s The Grip of It about a couple whose relationship is deteriorating after they bought a house that possibly could or could not be haunted.   

 

I joined the Horror Writers Association (HWA) because I wanted to connect with other writers who shared the same love of the darker side of literature. I’ve been a member of other writing organizations, and while they were helpful, HWA has been the most welcoming, and I feel like I finally found a place where I belong. 

 

I also wanted to find horror writers and dark fiction writers near where I lived in Northwest Indiana. And since I couldn’t find any, I decided to resuscitate the HWA Chicago Regional Chapter to forge some new friends, networking and talk about writing. And when I put the call out for prospective members, I was worried that no one would be interested, but I was wrong. We have enough interest to get the Chicagoland Chapter back up and running soon! For now, because of Covid-19, we’ll be meeting virtually.  

 

I’m in a “complicated relationship” with why I love horror.  But what it all boils down to me is that I’ve lived horror, and yet, like a final girl in a horror movie, I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere. And writing and reading horror books are helping me to heal. It’s changing the way I look at the world.   

 

31 Days of Horror: Day 25-- Why I Love Horror by Sunny Moraine

Sometimes I take a wild stab at titles to include in my LJ Review column. Well, not completely wild.  I make an effort to focus on select publishers and make sure they are represented. In this case, Nightfire had an intriguing, debut coming in February, Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine.

I requested it with no further information than the publisher's summary and what I got in return was a book that is "horrifyingly banal," with multiple layers of discomfort, and an engaging narration. Those quotations marks are from a phrase in the book itself.

Here is my full review for more context:

Riley lives alone, on the shores of an isolated lake, in the home that belonged to her grandparents, that is, before they murdered each other, because Riley lives in a slowly collapsing world where for the last two years, looking a human in the eye, be it a real person, an image, or even a reflection, will lead them to violence, killing everyone near them including themself. Until the day she meets Ellis on the road, and Riley dares to connect with another human. Riley is an engaging narrator, recounting the "horrifyingly banal"* downfall of society, drawing readers in with a mixture of details from”then” and philosophical consideration about “now,” gaining their trust even as she is slowly becoming less and less reliable. Creepy from its very first lines, with unease seeping out of every sentence, this deceptively quiet rollercoaster of intense unease, palpable emotional trauma, and engrossing menace, will appeal to a wide swath of readers.

Verdict: While the set-up warrants comparisons to Bird Box by Josh Malerman or The Violence by Delia S. Dawson, the reading experience with its multiple layers of discomfort, is reminiscent of Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke by Eric LaRocca.

If you click through you can read even more.

Immediately after finishing this book, I contacted Moraine, and asked them to consider participating in Why I Love Horror.  

Please welcome Sunny Moraine as they share why Horror is the place where we can all feel fully human.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Why I Love Horror

by Sunny Moraine 

Now and then I do in fact wonder how I got to where I am now, as someone immersed in horror both as creator and as audience, because if you met me as a kid, you never would have pegged me for a future gorehound.

I should be clear that I say “gorehound” a bit tongue-in-cheek here; I appreciate a good spout of gore, I get a kick out of it in my horror media, but I wouldn’t say it’s primarily why I come to the genre. The fact remains that when I was young I didn’t have much tolerance for horror at all, gory or otherwise. I was a lonely, bookish kid with—like many lonely, bookish kids—an overwhelmingly powerful imagination, and as such, the feelings induced by the conjurings of that imagination were often correspondingly overwhelming. I was easily scared, and frightening images stuck hard in my brain. I was well into adolescence before I could watch the Chestburster Scene in Alien (now one of my favorite films) without covering my eyes.

Yet at some point, something changed. Something in the vibe of horror reached out and gripped me by the guts and hasn’t let go. I don’t recall exactly when that was, or what the catalyst happened to be; it might have been reading The Shining one summer, or watching Jacob’s Ladder (now one of my favorite films) for the first time. What matters is that there came a time when those frightening images lingered, and instead of wanting them out of my head, I wanted them to stay.

They were compelling. They were even bizarrely comforting.

By the time I hit adolescence, I wasn’t only a lonely, bookish kid; I was a mentally ill kid, a neurodivergent kid, a queer kid who didn’t know yet that they were queer, with an increasingly difficult home life. So I think part of what happened is that the world itself became more unpredictable, more frightening—and more monstrous, not least because I was feeling more monstrous. My mental illness—primarily OCD—was manifesting in disturbing ways, most immediately in persistent dermatillomania, which is a form of compulsive self-harm as a way to self-soothe. So what I was dealing with wasn’t only the experience of my own mind turning on me, but also of my own body becoming a site of perversely comforting violence.

So horror—especially of the Stephen King variety—presented me with stories in which powerful evil could be confronted and maybe, against all odds, defeated.

But it also presented me with stories in which monsters could belong. In which they could confront normality as an enemy and destroy it, and in which they could seize their own power. Other kids found me strange and disturbing? Fine; maybe being strange and disturbing wasn’t so bad. Maybe, in a monstrous world, a monster is precisely what one ought to be.

That was a long time ago, and I’ve gotten much better. I’ve grown up, I’ve gotten married, I’ve made friends and found fellow travelers, I’ve discovered things I’m good at and carved out a life which is meaningful to me. I understand much more of where my power is, and I’m much more comfortable with not having any control over most of the world—or at least I’m more comfortable with the discomfort. But my attraction to horror has only intensified, and I think the reasons largely remain the same.

I love the uncanny in horror, because I feel uncanny. I love the things that alarm and disturb, because I frequently feel alarmed and disturbed, and I want to learn to live with those emotions rather than constantly fighting them. I love the presentation of the world as dangerous and frightening, because the real world seems more like that every day, and stories reflecting that reality is affirming for me. Perhaps most of all, in many ways I still feel essentially monstrous—and this is where I have to note that there’s something intrinsically queer about a lot of horror in that respect. It’s a counterintuitively safe place for what can’t help but stand against the accepted, the comprehensible, the normal and normative. It’s a place where it’s all right to admit that the abyss holds a certain allure.

It’s also a place where, because the deepest kinds of darkness must be faced, every fragile little flicker of light is that much brighter. Because of the presence of despair, every shred of hope one manages to claw free feels so profoundly earned. Those are often my favorite stories: where things get as bad as they can, where people spiral into the worst places imaginable, and then somehow succeed in carrying on in spite of everything. Maybe they don’t win, maybe even an uplifting ending is uplifting in only the most tenuous way, but they manage to hold onto some crucial piece of themselves.

One of my other favorite films is the 2015 psychological horror indie They Look Like People, which focuses on Wyatt, a man in the grip of terrifying schizophrenia, and Christian, Wyatt’s old friend who doesn’t know how to help Wyatt even as Christian is struggling with his own depression and anxiety. Wyatt is convinced that the world is on the verge of a demonic invasion, and he’s the only one who can do anything to fight back and save himself—not because he’s some sort of messianic figure but instead because he’s cursed to be the only one who sees it coming. (SPOILER ALERT) This conviction leads Wyatt to the verge of unspeakable violence against Christian, yet the film never allows us to stop feeling intense empathy for him and his distress. At the very last minute, Wyatt rejects his delusions, and he and Christian—who has reacted to Wyatt with courage and love and acceptance even though he doesn’t fully understand what’s wrong—embrace. That’s where the film ends: not with Wyatt conclusively getting better or Christian conclusively conquering his own debilitating emotional issues but simply with two broken men together in the darkness, having managed to find hope in each other in spite of their terrible brokenness.

I do love horror that ends in the bleakest places, too, where there’s no hope to be found at all. But I think my favorite stories are the ones that end the way They Look Like People does, where the awfulness of the world is fully realized and never defeated but somehow still doesn’t have the last word. And I really think you get that in horror in a way you rarely do elsewhere. You only find that kind of light in a place where the darkness is allowed to be nearly impenetrable.

You survive, and then it’s up to you to decide what the fact of your own survival means.

In some ways, while it makes a home for those of us who always feel a little bit like monsters, horror is also a place where we can discover what makes us fully human. And I can’t help loving that.

Becky’s Favorite Horror Reads of 2017

Although I already unveiled my top ten horror books published in 2017 during #LibFaves17 [more on that here], I wanted to compile the list, with links and bonus commentary here on the blog so that you can access it more easily.

Easy access reminds me that I also have an archive of all of my original lists always available in the right gutter of the blog with this link. It includes year end reports on the best horror going back to 2005! Please don’t forget to use it to help patrons. It is a great place to start as you look for titles that might work for your horror patrons.

And now what you have been waiting for..... Becky’s Favorite Horror Reads from 2017...

10. Little Heaven by Nick Cutter: I read this one in 2016 for review in Booklist but it is a 2017 release. This is thoughtful, even philosophical, pulp horror at its best with a compelling dual narratvie. Click here for my full review.

9.  Black Mad Wheel by Josh Malerman: I didn’t get around to reviewing this one officially, but on Goodreads I made these notes:

Three words: claustrophobic, aural, steadily building dread

Sound over sight again. 

Alternating time frame merging together like Bird Box. Heightens anxiety and makes dread build mercilessly.

Again, a dual narrative just like #10, an interesting fact I did not notice until now. This is really a sf-horror hybrid where a sound has been weaponized in the African desert. A rock band is sent there to look into it. In the other storyline, one of the members of the rock band, the only one to make it out of Africa alive, is being treated at a mysterious medical facility in Iowa. This book was ominous, terrifying, original, claustrophobic, compelling, and weird [in a good way].

8. Mapping the Interior by Stephen Graham Jones: Again, I never got around to writing a full review, but I have to say that I think Stephen Graham Jones is my favorite horror novelist these days.  Everything he writes is amazing. In this case, Mapping the Interior is a novella that features a Native American teen, coming of age storyline with a menacing horror frame. The protagonist’s dead father appears to have come back to the broken family he left behind, but is he back to help or hurt? Well it’s a horror novel so you can imagine the answer I am sure. The supernatural horror in the novella serves to amplify the true life horrors. And add to it all Jones’ spectaular command of language. His writing is beautiful as it describes horrific things-- always, in everything he writes. It’s quite a treat to behold. You will reread lines. Fast-paced, character driven, and menacing.

7. Kill Creek by Scott Thomas -- An original and terrifying haunted house story which also explores the genre of horror itself. Menancing, thought provoking, and cinematic. Click here for my full review on GoodReads

6. Grip of It by Jac Jemc was the creepiest and most intense haunted house story I have read in years. I had to literally step outside my house to take a breath while reading this one; I couldn’t bear to be in any house it was so terrifying. Again, I didn’t write a full review but I did make these notes on my Goodreads shelf:

Disorienting, so anxious. 

Short chapters with POV switching back and forth. Both intense first person.

Husband wife unraveling.

The first person narration is so close and intense and switches so quickly and frequently that often you forget who is talking to you, the reader. Also the restraint here is amazing. This is a tightly woven, brisk story, that is terrifying without any gore. Also talk about unreliable narrators. Both are so unreliable, I am still not sure what actually happened. Wow!

5. Hematophages by Stephen Kozeniewski-- Aliens meets The Rising meets The Ruins with a touch of Office Space.  You can read my full review here. But in the meantime, just order it. Trust me here.

4. Strange Weather by Joe Hill is a collection of 4 short novels. I gave it a star review in Booklist. You can read my review here. That review includes a quote that HarperCollins is using in their advertising for this bestselling book: "Hill is not only maturing as a writer of relevantly chilling tales, but he is also emerging as a distinct voice for our complicated times."

3. Female horror collections! Yes this is cheating, but seriously, I was blown away by the number of amazing female written horror story collections I read this year. The best by far was Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado which I gave this star review to in Booklist BEFORE it was nominated for the National Book Award. But I also greatly enjoyed Speaking to Skull Kings and Other Stories by Emily Cantaneo and two books which I reviewed for the January 2018 issue of Indie Picks-- Cry Your Way Home by Damien Angelica Walters and and Everything That’s Underneath by Kristi DeMeester. [I will add the link to those reviews when they are available- added 1/17/18]

The point I am trying to make by saying my #3 read of the year is “female horror collections" is that male horror writers better watch out-- the women are coming and they are very good at using the violence and harassment done to them as inspiration for some of the best horror I have read all year.

And finally, my favorite two horror books of the year. They really could be 1 and 1a, but I made myself rank them...

2. Paperbacks from Hell: A History of Horror Fiction from the ‘70s and ‘80s by Grady Hendrix. I “raved” this nonfiction title at ALA this past June. You can click here for a full review. This book is entertaining and informative. Even the author bios in the back are fun to read. I dare anyone who loves books and reading-- especially a good old fashioned mass market paperback from any genre-- to not enjoy this book.

1. In the Valley of the Sun by Andy Davidson. I am on record saying this novel is one of the best debut novels I have ever read, in any genre. Click here to read my starred Booklist review with all of the details. I would just be repeating myself with anything I wrote here in this post.

Finally here is my list of "Honorable Mentions” which barely missed the cut with links to reviews:

• Those Who Follow by The Sisters of Slaughter
• Come to Dust by Bracken MacLeod
• Abode by Morgan Sylvia

These last three “Honorable Mentions” missed the cut for this horror list because they were great but not only horror. Each was a genre blend. I didn’t think it was fair to take a horror best spot from these genre blends, but all three are excellent choices for your patrons. Links are to my detailed reviews.

• Hekla’s Children by James Borgden
• The Corpse and Girl from Miami by John Urbancik
• Ararat by Christopher Golden

And that’s a wrap of 2017, both my reads and on this blog in general. Stay tuned for more Horror in 2018 and beyond.