100 books like Pedro Paramo

Jackson’s Gothic horror flows like black chiffon over a yawing window. That’s how I felt reading about Hill House. I loved the way the house sneaks up with its psychological weights swinging and jarring. Eleanor possesses a dark ambiance. She desperately needed to belong to something or someone, and I couldn’t let go of that.

Her emotions and fears were right there with me. But it was the romantic underbelly that got me: Eleanor’s romance with Hill House. The statuesque gardens, the light, and shadows, all tempted her into its sinister realm. As it tempted me. I felt deeply for Eleanor, wanting to belong to something extraordinary to replace her dull life. Shirley Jackson is quoted as saying, “I delight in what I fear.” This book proves it.

Remember when schools handed out a catalog of books for you to order? I do. I chose this book when I was about eleven years old, and while even then I was already reading Caroline B. Cooney and Richie Tankersley Cusick, this book took my childhood love of ghost stories and nudged it into my adolescence and adulthood. 

Twin houses, the Civil War and broken families are the backdrop to the principal theme of young and forbidden love across the ages. Jealousy, revenge and a love which is not quite right live within the walls of these houses. Here, the places are not born evil; they are made evil by common human emotions allowed to fester and never laid to rest. 

I have read it at least five times and love it still. Barbara Michaels is one of my favorite Gothic writers, and this book holds a vast place in… show more.

Published in 1834, this one amplifies Ann Radcliffe's Gothic-ness to eleven. I loved the story because it's fun, wild, gloomy, rogue, and riveting, like a gripping telenovela. 

The plot is all about inheritance, family drama, illegitimate sons, and revenge. It features villains, gypsies, apparitions, corpses, evil priests, murders, curses, and the famous highwayman Dick Turpin and his mare Black Bess. It recounts Turpin's midnight ride through the English countryside as he flees capture, and like it, the entire novel is a wild ride. 

Though a bit antiquated and with "songs" aplenty—which Ainsworth himself lamented had been lost in British literature and tried to resurrect—its gloomy and despairing story captivated me. The book begins at night inside a mausoleum, where the sexton Peter Bradley tells his grandson Luke his family history.

Right off the bat, we have a desecration and a rotting hand; how much more Gothic can this story be?

This book by Ann Radcliffe was published in 1794, and I read it in the spring of 2020 (yeah, we all remember). It was a welcome respite from my book club books as I sat on my lawn chair accompanying the main character, Emily Saint-Aubert, as she journeyed through the Languedoc. It was a long and arduous journey with long and arduous descriptions, and while I am averse to these, the narrative and language fascinated me. The story pulled me into a moonlit graveyard abutting an ancient convent, then into the languid beauty of 16th-century Venice, the gloomy castle Udolpho, and Signor Montoni's villainous schemes.

This book is the epitome of classic Gothic fiction, a genre of literature that started with Horace Walpole's The Castle of Otranto. But Udolpho sets the bar even higher with its narrative's light and darkness and winding twists. 

I love the story, the setting,… show more.

I immediately loved this book for its alternate history, detailed folklore, and dark academic vibes. I connected with the complex characters and a strong female protagonist who was fearless of social expectations. The unique combination of folklore and an archaeology background that I share with the author Heather Fawcett was something I found familiarity with instantly.

I enjoyed the alternate history where dark academia met with the more traditional Gaslamp-style fantasy fiction to create something new. This combination of dark academia, marginalized voices, and alternate history is a style I enjoy delving into the past in new, unusual ways and revealing voices that otherwise remain unheard.  

This book is like taking a step inside a dream. For me, it had everything I could ever ask for from a novel—lyrical prose, gorgeous imagery, fun and lovable characters, a little bit of quirk, and a rare depth at the heart of it. Nature is a major element, taking place in Oklahoma, Oregon, Michigan, Mississippi, and Montana. The writing is so vivid it immerses you in the adventure, making it feel as though you’re walking beneath the pines, smelling the gulf coast air, or simply marveling in the beauty of the natural world alongside Wylan, the quirky and heroic protagonist. 

Set in Victorian England, this novel begins where romances often start—with a beleaguered heroine. She is a brilliant cook with a questionable past. Her patron dies. His brother takes over the estate where—let’s say—she’s been multi-tasking. The brother has perversely cut all pleasure from his life. But oh, that food. Complications develop, including his desire to not desire the food or the cook. There are dark secrets and dark hungers including a hunger for revenge on both the hero’s and heroine’s parts. I love a sexy, twisty story that I can’t put down. This one meets all of my marks. 

Nothing scary happens exactly, but that doesn’t stop this novel from holding a strange and creepy tension throughout the whole of it. With a heavy surrealist bent, the book centers on a girl and her father who were born from the ground, and so have the powers to heal people by moving around the things that are inside them. It’s exactly as haunting as it sounds.

I love books that explore how ordinary people might react in extraordinary circumstances, and this one takes that to another level.

The main characters, Tengo and Aomame, see that the world has changed—the most obvious clue being that there are now two moons in the sky—and it is fascinating to watch how these two very different people cope with living in a new and mysterious context. Murakami has a knack for making the surreal seem believable, and in this book, he is at the top of his game.

This is the Tom Robbins book for me: the glorious bastard that made me want to be a writer.

It's a day lost in Tijuana, or Nice, or Beijing, or some other place you'd never thought you'd be, and you don't speak the language, but you've convinced yourself that you're fluent, and you can do it: you can get around anyway, and there's no cabs, and so you get into some guy's really old Volvo or, more ill-advised, van, and you give him the local equivalent of ten bucks to take you where you hope you want to be and not kill you, and he does it, but when he drops you off he yells at you, in his language, for being stupid enough to take a ride with a stranger.

And you do it again the next day, and you never learn your lesson.