Fans pick 63 books like The Philosophy of Horror

Reading Edward Said’s book as an undergraduate expanded my intellectual horizons and made me want to be a historian. Said showed that empire not only included the events—war, exploitation, extraction—that happened “out there” but also shaped metropolitan ways of knowing about and relating to areas of the world under colonial domination.

Said shows us that the power to know about a place and its people and to shape how that place and its people are known was central to the consolidation of imperial rule in the nineteenth century and its continuance in the twentieth.

More than that, however, Said showed the fundamental continuity between forms of knowledge in the past and structures of imperial power in the present. Imperialism is an unfinished history.

This is the most important book people have never heard of. It was immensely popular in the Middle Ages – 300 manuscripts survive in nine languages (Beowulf, another monster tale, survives in one copy). The probably-fictional “John Mandeville, knight, though I am not worthy” sets out from England in 1332, travels the known world on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and continues all the way to India. He encounters wondrous places, people, and beasts. The book is fundamentally flawed, with rampant racism, anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, sexism, and on, but this is why it matters. Mandeville was Columbus’s reading on his voyage to “the Indies,” and encouraged him to see indigenous populations as monstrous. It is terrible, and terribly important. Bale’s excellent introduction and translation are the best of many versions.

This is a brilliant, wide-ranging, deeply-sourced study of the dynamics that underpinned and justified early modern colonization of the Americas. Mandeville’s Book of Marvels and Travels is the prehistory of the horrors of colonization; the sources at the heart of Davies’s study are colonization’s architecture: maps, book illustrations, freestanding prints, published texts, letters, journals, and on. With nuance and care, Davies rewrites the intellectual history of this period, confronting the dehumanizing, demonizing, monsterizing visual and textual rhetoric of colonial enterprises (which directly contributed to large-scale violence), but also looking carefully at nuances, differences, and shifts in this rhetoric over the course of the Renaissance.

This one is the closest to my own areas of research. Strickland and I are both medieval art historians interested in how images not only reflect cultural ideas about othered peoples and the production of otherness, but also how images are central to the generation of these ideas. In this well-illustrated book, she examines a wide range of medieval Christian images that demonize groups—particularly Jews and Muslims, but really, all those who were not normative European Christians. I’ve returned to this book’s arguments many times over the years, and every time, I learn something anew.

For me, the ’60s & ’70s were the hay day of Bigfoot research. Along with Coleman, Moorehead, Green, and Dahinden, Peter Byrne was deep in the woods searching for the elusive creature. What I love about Byrne’s, The Search for Big Foot, is the authenticity of his quest. As I turned each page, I felt as if I was sitting by the campfire with Byrne as he shared his thoughts and compelling evidence for the elusive creature.

Miranda is one of my favourite authors when it comes to dark, gritty characters. Her study on a side of human nature from which most authors would recoil in Alchemy of Chaos is intelligent yet unnerving. There’s no romantic fluff here whatsoever. It’s harsh, violent, yet painfully beautiful. A shifter who changes gender, and sexual tension between a vampire professor and his student, all tangled up with chaotic witchcraft in a dark academia setting. Miranda delivers a violent, passionate, and sublimely clever tale for readers who aren’t sensitive to adult themes. A refreshing change from paranormal fantasy with HEAs, this one haunted me long after I turned the final page. 

Okay, so the title already has you frowning. Stay with me here. This indie ebook novelette had me smiling, nodding, and ooo-ing. I loved the brave way the author attempted something new and, well, left field. Because this is a lot of left field…

Our main character is a hitman. Or is he? He’s a werewolf. Or is he? I loved every paragraph of this story’s prose. But it was this “what’s really going on here?” aspect that had me smiling all the way through. It reminded me of Mad Max: Fury Road—because you can watch that entire movie as a psychotic episode on Max’s part. Same with this book. Leaves you guessing until the last page while keeping things fun along the way.

This is the book to read when you need something sweet and easy yet full of wolf fun rather than endless sex scenes. Werewolves plus the Wild West with three sequels that are just as satisfying – this is a great series to put on your e-reader for a rainy day.

A happy ever after is nice ‘n all, but sometimes I want angst and torture blocking the path of true love. The Children of The Morning Star series delivers that, plus more. Pavlik has crafted a complex, layered world, woven with religious dogma, which I could have taken at face value, but once I dwelt on the motives, beliefs, and loyalties of the characters (both good and bad) it left me contemplating the age-old battle between good and evil until the wee small hours. Lucifer’s vampires, created to aid the war effort between heaven and hell, strike a deal with God, and with this metaphorical handshake, chaos is unleashed. Way beyond the usual vampire trope, for me, this series has a whiff of the classical rising from its pages. 

This was my first foray into reading Urban Fantasy, and it made me very glad I did. This is the story of Lucy, a woman transformed into a werewolf, who must navigate the task of being Alpha of her new pack as well as adjusting to the new, often violent, world she’s a part of. I love how Heather deals with Lucy embracing a job she didn’t choose for herself. The interplay between the characters makes this a fun read with some very laugh-out-loud dialogue, especially in the interactions between Lucy and her Wolf, Esme. I think the whole ‘fish out of water’ thing speaks to all of us. Who hasn’t daydreamed, what if I could do magic, or had superpowers? The real question is, how would you cope if you suddenly could and it changed your life completely?