100 books like Crosshairs

Cherie Dimaline's book really spoke to me because, in addition to great story-telling, it sets Native people in a post-apocalyptic setting.

As Native people, we are so often portrayed as ancient rather than modern. So this work connected the ancient and the modern in a novel way. With relatable characters searching for family and community, it was relatable and real even in the world the book describes.

This a beautifully lyrical book. The first chapter winds and twists through different scenes and places, like a gentle lake through a peaceful forest. Emily St John Mantel leads you through the past, present, and future so softly that it takes you a moment to realize the bleakness and horror of the post-pandemic world she’s describing.

I love a story told from multiple points of view, and this one is a masterclass. It weaves different events and characters so precisely that when everything comes to a head in the final chapters, it feels inevitable and natural. I also love a nuanced villain, and (without giving away who) this one is fantastic! I understood their motivation and logic, even as I desperately wanted them to lose.

Hopkinson’s stunning debut plunges the reader into a wildly inventive future Toronto. She seamlessly weaves together the politics of race, class, and gender, inflected with the rich culture and history of the Caribbean diaspora.

Despite the grim post-apocalyptic setting, the characters are part of a community, surviving through solidarity and mutual aid. There are no easy answers or neat resolutions to be found here—the fraught, tenuous connections between families and lovers are messy and grounded.

Sadly, many of the elements of this 1998 novel have proven prophetic, and this book is still a clarion call 25 years later.

As Rebecca Roanhorse put it, Indigenous people on Turtle Island have already survived an apocalypse.

So it’s not surprising that my favourite apocalypse novel centres around a remote Anishinaabe community struggling to survive after a distant and never-fully explained calamity. It’s a prescient story, especially in light of real-life catastrophe that arrived only two years after its publication.

Much apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction focuses on gritty bands of survivors, but Rice provides a scenario that is much more in keeping with how communities actually act during disasters, contrasting the acts of care and mutual aid with the haunting slow decay of the world and the threat posed by violent outsiders.

It’s a multilayered, stunningly crafted realist take on how to keep surviving after the world ends.

First of all, if you go into this book expecting a slasher story, you’ll be disappointed. While its characters are rooted in the horror genre, the story focuses more on thriller until its final act. However, the best thing about the book is its character development with its main character and the other Final Girls. While the plot collapses in on itself every so often, the character work keeps it afloat and provides the suspense to make the reader scared.

On the surface, this is a comedy of mistaken identity with identical twins, Sebastian and Viola, at its heart. It concerns members of the nobility: Orsino, Olivia, and Viola (disguised as Orsino’s serving-man, Cesario). But there are other characters, too, who drive the sub-plot. Key among these is the jester, Feste, who knows that all of life is uncertain, a matter of ‘the wind and the rain,’ and that so much of existence is to do with confronting forks in the road. At the end of the play, the ’toffs’ dutifully pair off: Olivia marries Sebastian and Orsino marries Cesario (or rather, Viola, unmasked in the nick of time). And Feste is on hand to pronounce on the mutability of life and on how its choices aren’t always ours to make.

Steven Callahan not only survived this harrowing sea adventure but also wrote about it in such a powerful way. His unique descriptions constantly made me smile. I love how he was able to capture his evolving relationship with the ocean, his spirituality, himself, and the creatures he encounters during the 76-day saga of being adrift in a life raft on the Atlantic after his sailboat sunk.

I didn’t want to put this book down, he was just so courageous not to give up. It was fascinating to be in his head through this radical journey, especially as he questions the meaning of life while fighting to hang on to his own. 

This is a classic “I Can’t Put It Down” book.

Ashley is lost in the woods, an emotional and physical wreck, and she’s got to figure a way out. The two things she has going for her are serious survival skills and a fierce determination to never give up. Some of her challenges border on the unbelievable, but then, so do so many real-life stories we’ve all read about.

The reader gets to know and understand Ashley, with all her flaws exposed, as the worsening events force her to dig deep into who she is and what she’s capable of. The author might push the limit of what qualifies as YA, and as an adult I loved it, but when I was fifteen, I would have loved it even more.

This book is tense! Jess is alone in the Canadian wilderness, still injured from the car accident that killed her mom, and now her dad has been murdered and his cabin burned down. Jess must figure out how to survive in the cold with no shelter and no way out when nobody knows where she is. This is part survival story and part thriller. Jess is driven by her desire to survive as much as her desire for revenge. The survival aspect here is enough to keep you reading, but I also loved trying to piece together the mystery of why her dad was killed. 

When I think about the arctic, and horror, I immediately think of Dan Simmons and The Terror.

It’s an expansive, tense, visceral book that feels historical. The authority and details make this feel like fact when we know this is fiction. It’s also quite lyrical and haunting—the setting as a backdrop, the weather, and senses brutalized by this expedition, and the events that slowly unfold. Madness, mutiny, and cannibalism? Yes, please. There are so many ways you can die out here in the cold—starvation, hypothermia, scurvy, exposure, etc.

Whether you came to his work via this book, Carrion Comfort, or (like I did) with Song of Kali, this may be his best work to date. And the television series is worth a gander as well. Immersive, unsettling, gripping, and bleak this is one of my favorite Arctic horror novels to date.