99 books like Carmilla

I can’t get enough of this supernatural classic, which is made all the more vivid by the way its story unfolds through letters, telegrams, diary entries, and newspaper clippings. It is the found-footage horror story of its era.

Like Frankenstein, it has been adapted hundreds of times, officially and unofficially, into nearly every medium, yet the original novel is unparalleled for holding the reader in its icy grip. Stoker brought his own fears to the page, and I am always surprised at how, in just a few pages, they become my fears, as well.

No one has ever captured the darkly lush and sensual atmosphere of New Orleans quite like Anne Rice.

I am in awe of this accomplishment, even as I suspect she came to it from a dark place of her own. Born in New Orleans, she moved away for a time, married, and had a daughter. This child died young, a tragedy from which Anne never fully recovered. Returning to the city afterward, she bought a home in the historic Garden District.

There, she wrote this incredible tale with its tortured protagonist, a story imbued with the tragedy of being ever an outsider, with the fascination for death and immortality she found within herself and in the city that surrounded her. 

I fell in love with this book from the very beginning.

When by-the-book case worker Linus Baker from the Department in Charge of Magical Youth comes to investigate a home for six dangerous magical children, he discovers an unlikely family in an unexpected place. As a mother, I was smitten by the insecure yet powerful children and was cheering for Linus to save them. I’ve been out of my element with kids too, Linus; I understand.

Best of all, I could feel the compassion and love on the pages of this amazing book.

I love Anita Blake, the feisty, insecure, kick-butt heroine of this story. She’s everything I want in a protagonist: Strong and clever enough to solve her own problems, naive enough to think that will always be the case, and a stranger to her own heart. Lots of room for growth. And grow, she does.

This book (and series) lean more toward the paranormal romance side of urban fantasy, but it also has a dark and gritty noir feel that walks the line of horror. This genre mash-up checked all the boxes for me, keeping me invested in the characters, the world, and the heart-pounding plot.

I desperately want to be best friends with Henry (Monty) Montague, the delightful, ridiculous, irrepressibly queer gentleman of this book.

The story follows Monty on a joyous and, at times, harrowing romp through 18th-century Europe, accompanied by his prickly but secretly brilliant sister and his quiet, kind-hearted best friend (who he’s totally in love with but far too clueless to do anything about.)

What I love the most about this story is the way it depicts queerness in a way that feels true to its historical setting. Monty interrogates his identity with the flawed language and beliefs he inherited from the world around him, which I suspect anyone who didn’t grow up with access to an open and loving queer community, i.e., most of us, can relate to.

The Mirror Season is a difficult and beautiful novel about trauma – sexual assault, specifically – and it’s handled so compassionately, kindly, and brightly. Its central metaphor losing your magic after something unthinkable happens to you, left only with broken shards, works on many levels (as all good metaphors do). Ciela and Lock are brought together after one horrible night at a party, and their relationship is rendered realistically – they struggle separately and together. The something queer is pan: enchanted pan dulce, and a pansexual protagonist. 

A classic. No matter what age I am, Rowling continues to transport me into a world full of magic, mystery, and suspense.

This book takes the cake for me because of the world she has created. The characters, the towns, the spells, and the SCHOOL. YES! Take me to Hogwarts. I have never wanted to be transported into a world as badly as this one. The details of each character and each scene give you a vivid image of the world she has created.

I love how the books grew with the reader's age as well. Such a clever thing to do to keep your audience captivated. 

A formative book from my childhood, The Weirdstone of Brisingamen kick-started my love of all things magic, heroic, and fantastical. Not only that, but the setting was close to where I grew up – these were locations I knew but viewed through a mythic lens. Loosely based on the legend of the Wizard of Alderley Edge, Alan Garner creates a fantasy world that feels so real as two children are pulled into an adventure where the very future of the world of men is on the line. It remains so influential on my own writing that I still return to the old dwarf caves of Fundinvale as an adult and enjoy the tale every bit as much as I did when I was a ten-year-old reading by torchlight under the duvet.

This book has engendered controversy for almost forcefully bridging the gap between the 15th Century Wallachian Prince Vlad III or Vlad the Impaler or Dracula. Stoker had already constructed his character, called “Count Wampyr,” before he learned of his future namesake. However, he quite clearly establishes a connection between the two through an explanation provided by Abraham Van Helsing. The Dracula of the eponymous novel is a heavily fictionalized version of the real-life figure, but so are most similarly positioned characters in literature, film, and television. Florescu and McNally provide a cursory overview of Slavic and Balkan vampire folklore, a biographical sketch of Vlad the Impaler, and illuminate the process by which Stoker adapted this violent, cunning, and sometimes brilliant nationalist and military tactician into a fictional monster.

As contemporary Gothic author and artist Franklin Bishop observe, John Polidori ‘was responsible for introducing into English fiction the enduring image of the vampyre in the guise of a suave, cynical, and murderous English Lord. With the presentation of Lord Ruthven [Byron] as a vampyre, Polidori created a personification of evil that countless authors have since imitated in attempting to satisfy the enormous public interest in this genre of literature. The literary-metamorphosed vampire that emerged from the Villa Diadoti ‘ghost story’ contest quickly developed a life force of its own – which was not surprising since it was the collective brainchild of Byron and his physician John Polidori – and created a minor literary scandal when it was published in 1818. The Vampyre was based on Lord Byron’s unfinished story "Fragment of a Novel," but it is arguably the most influential vampire work of the early 19th century.

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