As a queer reader and writer of horror, I have little interest in anything that could be deemed “positive representation.” Horror is most compelling when it gets honest and ugly about the bad, selfish, cruel, or simply unwise choices people make when they’re truly scared–and that includes queer people. I love queer stories that aren’t primarily romantic or neatly resolved. I like messy groups of friends, toxic emotional entanglements, and family dynamics that don’t fit in a Hallmark card. These days there are lots of stories in other genres about queer people becoming their best selves, but horror also has space for us at our worst.
I love gore and emotional resonance, and this book delivers both by the bucketful. It’s well known as one of the gnarliest horror novels in recent memory, but what sometimes gets lost in the conversation is that it’s also one of the most poignant.
I can never resist a story whose central queer relationship is a friendship instead of a romance, and Beth and Fran’s friendship is deliciously fraught with desire, resentment, and the need to trust each other in order to survive in a post-apocalyptic hellscape. It’s not an entirely healthy friendship, but that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.
Beth and Fran spend their days traveling the ravaged New England coast, hunting feral men and harvesting their organs in a gruesome effort to ensure they'll never face the same fate.
Robbie lives by his gun and one hard-learned motto: other people aren't safe.
After a brutal accident entwines the three of them, this found family of survivors must navigate murderous TERFs, a sociopathic billionaire bunker brat, and awkward relationship dynamics-all while outrunning packs of feral men, and their own demons.
Manhunt is a timely, powerful response to every gender-based apocalypse story that failed to consider the existence of transgender…
This book is horror for adrenaline fiends, but it has emotional depths and a rich cast of well-developed characters to balance out its fast-paced thrills.
My favorite character in this book, and one of my favorites in the whole horror canon, is Nell Talbot, one half of the brother-sister duo of protagonists. Nell is a 100-proof disaster bisexual, surfing a wave of her own bad choices all the way to shore.
You know how a story is supposed to have an inciting incident? Nell Talbot is the inciting incident.
One of Tor Nightfire's "Horror Books We're Excited About in 2022"!
"Lyons
burnishes his reputation as a rising horror star . . . [and] keeps the pages
flying with fast-paced chills." -Publishers Weekly (starred review)
From the author of The Night Will Find Us comes a white-knuckled horror-thriller set across the American Southwest.
Road trips can be hell.
Siblings Jonah and Nell Talbot used to be inseparable, but ever since Jonah suddenly blew town twelve years ago, they couldn't be more distant. Now, in the wake of Jonah's divorce, they embark on a cross-country road trip back to their hometown…
It’s rare to find a book that combines my two favorite horror subgenres–queer horror and parenting horror–but this book does that and more. With four different protagonists who are all, in one way or another, queer, this bizarre family saga delves into the surreality of grief and the questionable choices people make to protect themselves and the ones they love.
The true queerness of this novel goes beyond its characters’ various same-sex attractions and relationships; at its heart, it’s a queer story because it shows how we build families out of the rubble that’s left when the lives we expected to lead fall apart.
A "genuinely scary" horror debut written in "prose so beautiful you won't want to rush" about a boy who transforms into a monster, a monster who tries to be a man, and the people who love him in every form he takes (Ana Reyes)
Grieving mother Magos cuts out a piece of her deceased eleven-year-old son Santiago's lung. Acting on fierce maternal instinct and the dubious logic of an old folktale, she nurtures the lung until it gains sentience, growing into the carnivorous little Monstrilio she keeps hidden within the walls of her family's decaying Mexico City estate. Eventually, Monstrilio…
This audiobook had me laughing and cheering out loud, especially toward the end. I was totally enamored of Anna Pace, a disaster bisexual along a quieter vein than my beloved Nell Talbot. Anna doesn’t start bar fights with biker gangs; she’s just quietly done with all this shit, and it’s surprisingly endearing.
This classic haunted house story is rounded out with cutting depictions of dysfunctional family dynamics and dry humor. Lots of otherwise very good horror novels whiff the ending, but this is where this book cements its claim to greatness, with an unexpected but incredibly satisfying resolution to both the haunting and the family drama.
Anna has two rules for the annual Pace family destination vacations: Tread lightly and survive.
It isn't easy when she's the only one in the family who doesn't quite fit in. Her twin brother, Benny, goes with the flow so much he's practically dissolved, and her older sister, Nicole, is so used to everyone - including her blandly docile husband and two kids - falling in line that Anna often ends up in trouble for simply asking a question. Mum seizes every opportunity to question her life choices, and Dad, when not reminding everyone who paid for this vacation, just…
In choosing a theme for this list, I was very careful to think of one that would allow me to include this book, my favorite haunted house novel of all time. It’s gay; it’s weird; its central mystery is never fully resolved, which may be why it’s stuck with me for years and is one of the few novels I’ve reread more than twice as an adult.
Miranda Silver is neither a classic Gothic heroine nor an ass-kicking Sidney Prescott type, but someone stranger and more opaque. She’s confused and lonely and an unreliable narrator. Her romance with classmate Ore might offer some respite from the terrors of her family’s ancestral home, but it’s not enough to save her.
I love a queer story without a happily ever after. Knowing who you are and who you love doesn’t always make everything turn out okay. Sometimes, it just means you have even more to lose.
Haunting in every sense, White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi is a spine-tingling tribute to the power of magic, myth and memory.
High on the cliffs near Dover, the Silver family is reeling from the loss of Lily, mother of twins Eliot and Miranda, and beloved wife of Luc. Miranda misses her with particular intensity. Their mazy, capricious house belonged to her mother's ancestors, and to Miranda, newly attuned to spirits, newly hungry for chalk, it seems they have never left. Forcing apples to grow in winter, revealing and concealing secret floors, the house is fiercely possessive of young…
Chaotic bisexual Wendy is trying to find her place in the queer community of San Lazaro, Arizona, after a bad breakup—which is particularly difficult because her ex is hooking up with some of her friends. And when the people around them start turning into violent, mindless husks, well, that makes things harder. Now, Wendy and her friends and frenemies—drag queen Logan, silver fox Beau, sword lesbian Aurelia and her wife Sam, mysterious pizza delivery stoner Sunshine, and, oh yeah, Wendy’s ex-girlfriend Leah—have to team up to stay alive, save Pride, and track the zombie outbreak to its shocking source.
This book is a propulsive, funny, emotional horror debut about a found family coming together to fight corporate greed, political corruption, gay drama, and zombies.
Curiosity is certain she saw fairies at the bottom of the garden. Little does she know . . . they saw her first.
Emotionally abandoned by her mother and infatuated by a figurine of a fairy ballerina she discovers in an old toy shop, eight-year-old Curiosity Portland steals the figurine, unleashing strange and frightening happenings around her home, which, in turn, reveals a disturbing family history.
Curiosity is certain she saw fairies at the bottom of the garden. Little does she know . . . they saw her first.
Emotionally abandoned by her mother and infatuated by a figurine of a fairy ballerina she discovers in an old toy shop, eight-year-old Curiosity Portland steals the figurine, unleashing strange and frightening happenings around her home, which, in turn, reveals a disturbing family history.
