100 books like Ghosts

I read a lot of gothic literature, and very little actually scares me. This book does. Every time I return to this book, which I do every year, always after dark, in a silent place, I get that anxious chill that makes me want to pause, pull my collar a little tighter, and look around the room, just to be sure.

Jackson’s novel also has what I think is the finest opening paragraph in any work of the literary gothic, an opener so unexpected and so poetic that I know I’m in for more than a typical haunted house story. Picking up on "The Fall of the House of Usher," picking up on "The Turn of the Screw," and influencing everything that came after her, Jackson gives us a dark mirror of a setting—a story, above all, of a haunted mind.

I am a huge fan of the very-brief gothic. It’s so hard to do well; trivial jump-scares are easy, but to produce a meaningful effect in only a few pages takes real precision. Shirley Jackson holds the crown with "The Lottery," but my second favorite instance of a surprisingly quick read that produces a real gasp is Angela Carter’s mini-treasure, "The Werewolf."

It manages to be a fairy tale, feminist critique, a witch, and a werewolf story all at once—and, like the beast in the title, it may not be what it appears. Also wonderful to me are "The Company of Wolves," "The Snow Child," and the eponymous "The Bloody Chamber," that one a revisioning of "Bluebeard"—essentially, Carter updates all kinds of dark fairy tales, bringing out their subversive shadows for a savvy reader. Still so fresh to this day.

Are there any ghosts in the most famous ghost story of all time, "The Turn of the Screw"? Fans have been debating that for over a century. I am awed and frequently challenged by James’ prose style, in which so much is rendered carefully ambiguous.

In his greatest offerings—"The Jolly Corner," "The Real Right Thing," and, a personal fave, "The Friends of the Friends"—he was able to elevate Gilded Age ghost stories to the realm of high art. Among his most central gifts was a Hawthorne-inspired interest in the nature of guilt, self-deception, and the spectral world inside our minds.

I recently visited Henry James’ grave in Cambridge and found that anonymous fans continue to leave him little tributes to this day.

The wonderful Robert Aickman; the first time I read some of what he called his “strange tales,” I knew I wasn’t ever going to forget the experience. Unnerving in the best possible way, there’s no one quite like Aickman for invoking a world that is half-waking, half-fever dream, somehow outside us and horribly inside our heads us all at once.

I could easily have picked any of his story collections, from The Wine-Dark Sea to the wonderfully titled Cold Hand in Mine, but Dark Entries contains his masterpiece, "Ringing the Changes." It’s a story about a May-December couple on honeymoon who find themselves in a town of the dead. I read it every Hallowe’en for the simple pleasure of Aickman’s craft.

Fans of literary fiction may not even realize that Edith Wharton (1862-1937), author of novels like The Age of Innocence and Ethan Frome, also loved to write ghost stories, which often revolve around themes of class and gender. This collection includes such gems as the truly unnerving "The Lady Maid's Bell," the eerie yet poignant "Afterward," and "All Souls," one of the most unusual Halloween tales ever penned.

I feel there's an art to incorporating the paranormal into a mystery without its presence dismissing the practical aspect of the characters’ investigation. D.J. Machale reached the perfect application of this in this book and its sequel.

While the series is directed at a younger audience, the mystery is superb without much handholding but with gripping action moments and the allure of something deeper that keeps the reader guessing until it all comes to a satisfying conclusion. Especially when paired with the sequel. Side note: tangent storylines that significantly impact each other without the characters realizing it is one of the top five forms of storytelling to me!

“Perhaps if I ask myself questions, my memory will come back?” The story opens with a now grown-up girl returning to her childhood home, only to realise on route that she is a ghost. But why did she die so young? Her mission must be to go back in time and warn her younger self of impending danger, however when she reaches her destination she can’t remember which of four sisters she is, as they all seem annoying. And what exactly is the disaster she is trying to avert? Could it be related to the pagan rituals the sisters are conducting to Monigan, the creepy doll they keep in the garden shed? What do you think? A thoughtful timeslip tale about trying to make sense of your childhood self.

Imagine a contemporary fantasy, driven by sword-wielding, swashbuckling, mystically empowered, ghostbusting teenagers. Yup. That is the cool twist in Jonathan Stroud’s Lockwood & Co. Series.

He’s best known for the Bartimaeus Trilogy, and takes all of his fantasy worldbuilding craft to design a modern world where ghosts are not only real but common and quite deadly to us living folk. You will fall in love with Lockwood and Lucy, sense the tension between them, and yet be relieved to discover that their connection isn’t the predictable stuff of typical teen romance.

The remarkable ghosts are similar to fantasy races. Rather than elves, gnomes, warlocks, etc., you have screamers, wailers, howling maids, and a whole host of specific ghost types that I dare not spoil. If you like fantasy with a touch of creepy, you’ll love Lockwood & Co.

When an author combines a haunted house novel with an unreliable narrator and a theme that has to do with class envy, I’m in.

I love how Sarah Waters creates a decaying mansion that seems to represent the decaying class of the owners, a narrator whose motivations may or may not be what they seem, and an ending that is both surprising and satisfying—and that makes me question everything that came before.

This book is utterly unique. While not a traditional paranormal thriller per se, Suma weaves together two distinct stories that come together in a jaw-dropping conclusion.

I’m a sucker for books with dancers as main characters, so the dance-infused narrative was all the more satisfying. Add in beautiful prose, a spooky prison, and a little competition between ballerina friends, and you’ve got a winner. No wonder I’ve read this book three times.