A DARK AND SECRET MAGIC by Wallis Kinney

Hecate “Kate” Goodwin is the first hedge witch in her coven in more than a generation. True to her craft, her days are spent in relative isolation, living in a cozy, comfortable cottage at the edge of Ipswich forest, where she tends to her garden and cooks up tinctures and concoctions that she sells in the town apothecary, which she co-owns with a fellow witch. She is, for the most part, content.

Then her older sister writes, asking Kate to host their coven on Halloween. It’s a momentous occasion, after all: not only is it the mark of a new year for witches, but Kate is also turning 31, a significant age in her coven, when she’s expected to declare her complete dedication to her craft by eschewing all other forms of magic. 

It’s all a little overwhelming for someone used to such a small, quiet existence. Then Matthew Cypher, a young hexan from a rival coven with whom she shares a complicated past, shows up in the middle of the night, throwing her life into further disarray. His arrival brings about revelations that threaten to unravel everything Kate thought she knew about her magic, her family, and her very sense of self.

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My enjoyment of Wallis Kinney’s A Dark and Secret Magic was saved by a particularly solid and satisfying climax and a truly excellent All Hallows atmosphere. I do think it’s a bit all over the place, though, tonally speaking. The story tries to be too many things at once: a witchy, whimsical slice-of-life (every single dish mentioned in this book has a cutesy, cloying, Pinterest-primed name), a charming frenemies-to-lovers fantasy, and a dark, sultry, brooding romance. It never quite manages to strike the right balance between these distinct sensibilities, which makes for some truly whiplash-inducing moments where one scene will feature characters giving one another magically induced tissue death, and the very next will have characters going to a Halloween parade to hand out candy to toddlers. Wild stuff.

Don’t get me wrong: the sudden shifts in mood could totally work—if only the writing leaned a little less toward the self-serious end of the spectrum and a bit more toward the whimsical. Alas, there must be Brooding.

But, again, the strength of this moody novel lies in its atmosphere and world-building, both of which are exceptionally well done. (I thought the magic system was particularly fascinating and I definitely wanted to learn more about it.) Anyway, despite my grumbling, I went into this expecting potent Practical Magic vibes, and I can’t deny that Kinney did her damnedest to deliver. 🎃

THE HAUNTED MASK: THE GRAPHIC NOVEL by R.L. Stine, Maddi Gonzalez | THE HAUNTED MASK II by R.L. Stine

Tired of the pranks her classmates are always playing on her for being the school’s scaredy-cat, Carly Beth vows to get the scariest costume she can for Halloween, intent on frightening all her friends right back. The mask she finds at the mysterious new store in town is indeed terrifying, and once she puts it on, it feels almost alive. The longer Carly Beth wears the mask, the less she feels like herself, but now she can’t seem to take it off…

A year later, Steve still remembers Carly Beth’s frightening mask. This Halloween, he wants to have the scariest costume around, especially if he hopes to get back at the first-graders he’s forced to coach after school, who seem to delight in making his life miserable. The store where Carly Beth got her mask seems to have shut down, but Steve manages to break in, grabbing the first mask he finds among the discarded merchandise before he’s caught. His Old Man mask is truly revolting, and he’s convinced it will frighten everyone around him. But once he puts it on, he starts feeling like an old, weak man himself. Worse still, the mask won’t come off…

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I had a lot of fun with Maddi Gonzalez’s graphic novel adaptation of The Haunted Mask by R.L. Stine. She brought a modern, anime-inspired sensibility that I would never have thought would work for this most nineties of stories, but it really does. She did a great job with the Mask itself, which was suitably monstrous and wonderfully, grotesquely expressive (the bit with Carly Beth running around on all fours while scaring the kids around the neighborhood was particularly, delightfully unhinged). It’s also full of very funny visuals: there’s a bit with a mask resembling the Goosebumps author that genuinely made me laugh out loud (Stine has a very distinctive face what can I tell you). I liked this a great deal, and it made me want to pick up the other Gonzalez Goosebumps graphic novel adaptations.

R.L. Stine’s The Haunted Mask II is, admittedly, a considerable step down from the first book, but also I ended up liking it quite a bit? I just thought it was hilarious, and while I understand that the (perfectly predictable) twist of the Old Man mask transforming the main character into an actual frail old man would be a slightly disappointing twist for this series, I found it to be mostly an amusing and terribly relatable ride (I, too, wake up with aches and pains in my old age). Most Goosebumps caveats still apply, naturally: the plot is mostly goofy and very contrived blah blah blah, but I actually found Stine’s writing fairly strong here, refreshingly free of slightly condescending prose that tended to creep into most of the later books. Good stuff. 

Anyway, I did not re-watch the TV adaptation for The Haunted Mask this time around, but I did catch the episode based on The Haunted Mask II, which I’m not sure I ever saw as a kid. I may have liked it better than the book, partly because the show still had some stellar production (the Old Man mask looks great and gross), partly because it ignores some of the book’s sillier elements, but mainly because I watched a VHS rip of the original broadcast, complete with commercial breaks, that someone put up on YouTube. You know. The way god intended. 🎃

THE BELLWOODS GAME by Celia Krampien

Every year, on Halloween, the children of Fall Hollow enter the Bellwoods to play a game: they must brave the darkness beneath the trees in order to find a bell that must be rung before midnight, or else the restless ghost of Abigail Snook is free to torment the town. Bailee’s not sure she believes in all the stories she’s heard about Abigail or the Bellwoods, but they also say that the first person who gets to ring the bell is granted a wish, and after a particularly dismal year full of social and personal turmoil, she’s willing to do whatever it takes to make things the way they used to be. But Bailee and her fellow players enter the woods, they’ll discover that all the stories are not only true, but far more sinister than any of them could have ever imagined.

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The Bellwoods Game by Celia Krampien had pretty much everything I look for in a story—for children or otherwise: a touching and deeply sincere plot; quirky and resilient characters; strong themes of friendship, courage, and acceptance—even stories and storytelling figured into the plot, because Krampien is clearly a spooky scribe after my own heart. I’ve long been an admirer of her artwork, and the illustrations included here add so much atmosphere to an already atmospheric sort of book. Chock-full of impeccably creepy imagery and creative, genuinely spooky set pieces, this was a sheer delight to read. I liked this book a lot. 🎃

CHASING THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN by J.W. Ocker

I’ve long been a fan of J.W. Ocker. Many of his spooky sensibilities have always seemed to align with my own (his opinions on writing scary books for kids in particular, but also his deeply personal, almost ritualistic approach to Halloween). Mostly, though, his writing is always a treat. I read A Season with the Witch, that passionate portrait of Salem, Massachusetts, a couple of years ago, and had such a blast with it that I’ve revisited it a couple of times since. So when I learned that he was giving the same treatment to the village of Sleepy Hollow, the setting of one of my favorite stories and one of the places I most wish to visit—well, I couldn’t not be excited. Chasing the Headless Horseman: The History, Hijinks, and Halloweens of the Real Sleepy Hollow is, as I’d hoped, every bit as exhaustive and enthusiastic as its witchy predecessor, and I had a great time with it. 

It is, admittedly, a bit drier than that previous book. A considerable portion of Chasing deals with what Ocker perceives as something of an identity crisis in Sleepy Hollow—both literally, with the village’s relatively recent name change (1996 is still recent do not @ me), and existentially, as a place that would like to capitalize on its reputation as a Halloween destination without letting its substantial historical significance be overshadowed by the holiday’s more kitschy, touristy trappings. It’s a tension Ocker explores throughout the book with his usual inquisitiveness and diligence, but one that he perhaps spends a little too much time trying to untangle, making for a somewhat less lively reading experience. Season, on the other hand, is all about a peculiar place that has fully embraced its peculiarity, which, to me, makes for a more entertaining read.

It makes for a fascinating contrast between the two books: one is about a city that has managed to balance a very real and very tragic history with the more frivolous aspect of its Halloween celebrations, while the other is about a small town with a literal work of literature as part of its foundations that is still struggling to find a more cohesive identity. Which maybe says something about the way America seems to capitalize on sensational violence much more readily than on its artistic endeavors. But that is, I’m afraid, an entirely different topic for another time.

Chasing is not without its share of fun, though. Ocker’s interactions with the locals are always as illuminating as they are amusing. The chapter exploring other, considerably less headless legends of Sleepy Hollow country is a standout, but the one in which Ocker subjects himself to endless hours of Headless Horseman media might be one of my favorite things he’s ever written (some of the adaptations sound so spectacularly absurd that I’ve already looked them up and hope to watch them before the season is over).

And for Ocker, it all goes back to that galloping goblin (the man has a Headless Horseman-themed bathroom, after all). His book on the Witch City may be more immediately fun and engaging, but the deep, abiding affection he has for “The Legend,” its celebrated author, and the quaint, quiet bit of land that inspired him is palpable, making this, in my opinion, the more earnest and heartfelt volume. 🎃

UNTIL THE LAST LIGHT GOES OUT by Courtney Gould

This review first appeared in Booklist on October 1, 2026.

 

Paige Keller has spent her life trying to forget the Kaleidoscope, the infamous island resort where, years ago, most of her mother’s senior class died under mysterious circumstances. Casey Keller survived, but the hotel would continue to cast a shadow over those who got away. Shortly after Paige’s birth, Casey went back to the Kaleidoscope—and died there. Now Paige has returned home for the tragedy’s twenty-fifth anniversary, determined to pay her respects one last time before finally leaving the haunted past behind. But when KJ, her estranged best friend and the daughter of another Kaleidoscope survivor, disappears, Paige fears that yet another person she loves has been lured into the dark depths of the hotel. Following KJ into the ruinous resort, Paige discovers something far more frightening than the human horrors that unfolded there: a ravenous nightmare lurking beneath its once-luxurious facade. Gould deftly delves into themes of generational trauma, emotional neglect, and moral reckoning in this delirious, fluorescent fever dream. Recommend to readers who enjoyed Kate Alice Marshall’s These Fleeting Shadows (2022) and Linda Cheng’s Beautiful Brutal Bodies (2025).

 

THE CREEPS by Tehlor Mejia

This review first appeared in Booklist on September 1, 2026.

After Dylan and his mother are unceremoniously kicked out of their apartment, they find themselves staying—temporarily, his mom swears—at the Good Night Motel. The sudden move is miserable enough, but the motel does precious little to raise their spirits. The place is crumbling; there’s a foul, rotten smell that hangs over everything. The small staff behaves in peculiar, unsettling ways, and the rules are as relentless as they are ridiculous. After meeting Ollie, one of the motel’s few guests, who shares some disturbing stories and theories about the place, Dylan starts to think that what first seemed like a brief, grim arrangement may actually be something stranger . . . and far more sinister. Dylan and his mother soon learn that, at the Good Night Motel, shelter comes with conditions—and breaking them may cost more than they could ever afford. Mejia delivers a story as creepy as it is compassionate, exploring themes of community, sanctuary, and care for those too often overlooked by the wider world. Perfect for readers of Lindsay Currie, Ally Malinenko, and Kaela Rivera.

ISLE OF TEETH by Tessa Barbosa

This review first appeared in Booklist on September 1, 2026.

Matiu had no intention of ever setting foot back on the Isle of Teeth, the place of his birth—not after the rebel attack that killed his mother and left him for dead when he was a child. But fate, or perhaps Lady Death herself, seems to have other plans. Now a cadet in the imperial army, Matiu—born to a Lyssian father and Songi mother—is pulled into a power struggle between his father’s empire and his mother’s oppressed people. When he crosses paths with Calyx, one of the revenants created—and then abandoned—by his cold, callous father, their destinies become intertwined, forcing both to confront the monstrous systems that shaped them. Drawing on Philippine colonial history, Barbosa’s dark, Frankenstein-inspired fantasy stitches together anti-imperial resistance, ancestral magic, and body horror into a grimly compassionate story about identity, survival, and just who gets to be seen as human. The result is a thoughtful, melancholic fantasy that will appeal to readers interested in stories of rebellion, divided loyalties, and monsters who are more than the sum of their parts.

DEAD TEENAGER MOVIE by Cethan Leahy

Advance reading copy courtesy of Little Island Books, via NetGalley.

A group of lustful adolescents plan to spend a few days in an isolated house deep in the Irish countryside. Soon enough, the masked, ominous figure that has been stalking them for the past few weeks makes its presence known, threatening to kill the teens one by one. 

Do stop me if you’ve heard this one before. 

But author Cethan Leahy knows when to lean into the tropes and clichés that make this particular facet of the slasher genre so entertaining, and when to gleefully subvert them. While the pacing and overall writing can at times leave something to be desired (with a handful of chapters feeling entirely rushed and an ending that, while true to its genre roots with its blood-soaked suddenness, is nonetheless a bit anticlimactic), I can always appreciate when fun is had with the material, and Leahy was clearly having a blast here. It’s hard not to get swept up. 

Additionally, the lush Irish woods and the country’s rich folklore are not elements often seen in this genre, giving this scary movie story a particularly interesting and refreshing angle.

THE WUMP by Tony DiTerlizzi

This review first appeared in Booklist on August 1, 2026.

As an insect aficionado, Timothy Quibble understands the concept of metamorphosis better than most. Even so, he doesn’t expect adolescence—that time of transition and transformation—to be quite so agonizing. At home, his already shaky relationship with his dismissive, indifferent mother is further strained by her impending impulsive marriage. At school, he contends with bullying and the often humiliating social sidelining by junior-high cliques. And, of course, there’s the darkness growing within him, on the verge of violently erupting the moment everything gets to be too much. After a series of confrontations with both family and friends, this spreading shadow threatens to envelop Tim like a cocoon, and he must reckon with his turbulent emotions before he emerges as a monster. DiTerlizzi’s atmospheric illustrations help set the story’s moody tone as he delivers a haunting and heartfelt coming-of-age tale that refuses to shy away from the sorrow and uncertainty of leaving childhood behind, while also celebrating the messy, marvelous process of growing into oneself. A Kafkaesque offering for fans of Paul Tremblay’s Another (2025).

LEVEL UP by Daka Hermon

This review first appeared in Booklist on August 1, 2026.

Keenan Reed is tired of monsters. He and his mother have just left one behind in the form of his abusive father, after all. Now they’ve moved back to his mother’s childhood home, hoping for a fresh start. But something seems to be off in the small southern town. There’s talk of shadowy figures and strange happenings. At school, the teachers behave in increasingly odd and erratic ways, while the students have become obsessed with a new mobile game that appears to be changing them into something frightening. As the danger creeps closer, Keenan realizes that monsters can come in many forms. With help from new friends who’ve had eerie experiences of their own, Keenan finds the courage to face this fearsome darkness in order to save his family and new home. Hermon smoothly weaves Keenan’s color-blindness into the narrative, adding welcome texture to his perspective. Hermon’s existing fans will appreciate callbacks to earlier books, but chills will come for all who encounter the menacing creatures and mettlesome monster hunters inhabiting this thoughtful, thrilling, and thoroughly creepy tale.