OCTOBER 2025

Hello. This was October.

“Universal Horror” by Stephen Graham Jones. A fun, quick read with a lot of eerie, urban legend vibes. I was into it. Again, I really need to read more SGJ. Perhaps a novel, even! One of these days perhaps!

Up to No Ghoul by Cullen Bunn, Cat Farris. It’s been a few years since I read the first book in this series and, to be perfectly honest, I had forgotten most of the particulars. I do remember really enjoying it, though—especially the art. I had much the same experience with this sanguinary sequel. Bunn’s writing is always effortlessly creepy and cozy, and Farris continues to impress with her dynamic imagery—her splash pages, in particular, are always spectacular. Charming, whimsical, and wonderfully illustrated. Delightful stuff.

“Ghostmakers” by Warren Ellis. More of a flash-fiction piece, really, Ellis excels at those. This was rad and fascinating and I wish it were a more proper, fleshed-out short story.

Classic Monsters Unleashed edited by James Aquilone. The only book I read from my admittedly overly ambitious TBR for this Halloween season. I may not have felt up to tackling big books this year, but I still very much wanted to read some short stories throughout the month. This turned out to be a really fun collection, and I was thrilled to see that many of the featured authors absolutely understood the assignment. There were some duds, of course, but that’s just the nature of anthologies. Mostly, though, it’s chock-full of very clever, captivating, and surprisingly subversive takes on the famous and familiar fictional fiends. Favorites: “They Call Me Mother” by Geneve Flynn, “Dreams” by F. Paul Wilson, “Blood Hunt” by Owl Goingback, “The Viscount and the Phantom” by Lucy A. Snyder, “Modern Monsters” by Monique Snyman, “Beautiful Monster” by JG Faherty, “The Nightbird” by Michael Knost, “Moonlight Serenade” by Gaby Triana, “Dead Lions” by Richard Christian Matheson, “Hacking the Horseman’s Code” by Lisa Morton, and “You Can Have the Ground, My Love” by Carlie St. George, “God of the Razor” by Joe R. Lansdale.

The Girl Who Cried Monster by R.L. Stine. My Goosebumps book for this season! It was okay! It’s a Goosebumps book! It does have one of my all-time favorite twists in the series, I think. Just delightfully schlocky. I usually watch the corresponding episode of the TV show, but I simply forgot this time around. I’ve seen it before, of course, and I remember thinking it was one of the better episodes—mostly due to some excellent make-up effects.

Bent Heavens by Daniel Kraus. A brutal and truly terrifying story about how far people will go to demonize what they don’t understand. This may ostensibly be a young adult novel, but some scenes are so relentless in their intensity that they disturbed me far more than much of the mature horror I’ve read over the years. This went nowhere I expected it and it’s all the better for it.

Birthday Party Demon by Wendy Dalrymple. Read this while at my nephew’s second birthday party, natch. I needed a palate cleanser after the intensity of Bent Heavens. A fun and harmless riff on the style of young adult horror that dominated the nineties. I enjoyed all the aesthetics and some of the genuinely unsettling scenarios. I also liked the inclusion—modest as it may be—of queer elements, something that certainly wouldn’t have been an explicit thing back in the nineties. And although Dalrymple wears her influences on the sleeves of her dELiA*s henley top, I was still surprised by the twist ending.

Scarewaves by Trevor Henderson. This was a blast. The Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark influence is palpable, and this reads like a slightly more focused take on that kind of collection of creepy tales. I do wish the connective throughline had been introduced earlier in the book, though—it would have gone a long way toward making it feel like a far more concrete and cohesive story, and less like an arbitrary assortment of spooky scenarios (fun as they are). That said, the true star here is Henderson’s artwork, which, as anyone who has followed his invariably viral online creations would expect, is delightfully unhinged.

“The McAlister Family Halloween Special” by Cameron Chaney. Super fun, super short story. Chaney is great at cozy-yet-consummately creepy horror. Great stuff.

“The Emissary” by Ray Bradbury. I’ve never really gelled with Bradbury’s style. It’s full of a certain grandiloquence and sentimentality that I mostly find superficial rather than sincere—which is tragic, because I know Bradbury is one of the most earnest writers of the twentieth century, but what can I tell you. So I was very much ready to shrug this story off—at least, until that rug-pull of an ending kind of blew me away. Deliciously creepy, but also very sweet in a macabre sort of way? I loved it, and sadly, I can’t say that about most of the Bradbury stories I’ve read.

Pumpkinheads by Rainbow Rowell, Faith Erin Hicks. Tradition dictates.

🎃

And that was Halloween. A lot more subdued than previous years, to be sure, but I’m still glad I managed to read a decent amount of scary stories, despite the darkness.


BOOKS BOUGHT—A MYSTIFYING MELANGE:

  • Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield
  • American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
  • A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis
  • Letters from a Stoic by Seneca
  • Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders
  • Scarewaves by Trevor Henderson
  • The Rose Field by Philip Pullman
  • The Haunted Looking Glass edited by Edward Gorey
  • Helloween by Duncan Ralston

MARCH 2024

Hihi here’s what I read in March (spoiler alert it’s mostly Bond stuff):

Dune by Frank Herbert. Already wrote about my experience with this, but yeah, this was great. Big worm! Big fan. And I’m terrible at watching movies in a timely manner so, no, I still haven’t seen part two, thanks. 

This month’s short story was “Jim Martini” by Michael Bible. A thoroughly modern corporate tale that at times reminded me of one of Mad Men’s surreal interludes. (Absolute favorite show, so not a bad thing.) Irreverent and playful. I dug it a lot.  ⠀

And that’s it for the regular reads. Literally everything else was Bond, because I am a ridiculous, obsessive person. 

Trigger Mortis by Anthony Horowitz. I just wish Horowitz wrote more of these.

For Your Eyes Only by Ian Fleming. Very interesting collection of short stories that find Fleming further experimenting with his Bond formula—to varying success. I didn’t think much of the first two stories, but really enjoyed the last three. In particular “The Hildebrand Rarity,” which, with its stunning underwater scenes, is a showcase of Fleming’s mastery at establishing mood and atmosphere. Also I do love a capsular setting, of which the luxurious yacht at the center of the story is certainly one of Fleming’s most opulent.  

Thunderball by Ian Fleming. Enjoyment of this was a bit marred by rewatching the movie and not being too thrilled by it. Still, a solid Bond entry. The Bahamas location was just great. Loved that Leiter got an extended role here, too. Also we got to go both inside a fancy yacht and a high-tech submarine, and that’s just super neat. 

The Spy Who Loved Me by Ian Fleming. Fleming’s infamous failed experiment. Admire him for going so out of his own comfort zone, but this is truly a royal mess. His female narrative voice is deeply unconvincing, for one. For another, the structure simply doesn’t come together. The first part reads like the maudlin diary entries of a juvenile caricature, while the second is a mid-century gangster farce, with Fleming at his most intolerable in terms of dialogue. Only the final part manages to feel like a Bond book, but it comes a bit too little, too late.   

And then I just read a bunch of Bond comics. I read too many of them, because, again, I am a ridiculous person.

James Bond: Vargr / James Bond: Eidolon by Warren Ellis, James Masters. Both re-reads. I had forgotten, but these were actually the first Bond things I ever read, having picked it up back when they came out because I was a big Ellis fan. I enjoyed them both a lot back then and, naturally, after having read entirely too much about this ridiculous character, I appreciate them a lot more now. 

James Bond: Hammerhead by Andy Diggle, Luca Casalanguida. Reading this after the Ellis and Masters run was like going from Casino Royale to Die Another Day. Fun, but lacked the wit and finesse of the previous comics.

James Bond: Service by Kieron Gillen, Antonio Fuso. Love Gillen but this was just bland as hell.

James Bond: Black Box by Benjamin Percy, Rapha Lobosco. Liked this one a bit more than the other non-Ellis runs. I feel like it did the globetrotting thing exceptionally well. And I enjoyed how simple and modern the storyline was. The Dynamite comics do a better job at bringing Bond to contemporary times better than the films, I feel like. They’re great at making our current, contentious times almost feel like another sort of war — neither hot or cold but perpetually hazy and chaotic. 

James Bond: Kill Chain by Andy Diggle, Luca Casalanguida. Liked this one a hell of a lot more than their previous effort. It felt much more in line with the Fleming novels. Bringing SMERSH into the modern day was an ingenious move, and having that not only feel believable but inevitable was just skillful storytelling.

James Bond: The Body by Aleš Kot, Various. One of the most fascinating Bond stories I’ve come across. One thing that I love about the Fleming novels is how surprisingly often they go into Bond’s psyche, something the films hardly ever do — at least until Craig’s tenure. The Body, though, is a thorough character study about what it means to be a blunt instrument wielded by a fallible, amoral government. The only place it falters is that at some point it feels like you’re reading about someone entirely different from the peculiar, singular character Fleming created. Still, some absolutely brilliant storytelling here.

James Bond: Himeros by Rodney Barnes, Antonio Fuso, Giorgio Pontrelli. This is what I mean by the Bond comics really going all out to make him a contemporary figure. This is an Epstein storyline, and not even a thinly-veiled one — the only things changed are the names. I guess it’s problematic in the sense that in this fantasy world Bond prevails and drags this evil ordeal out of the shadows and back into the light, but what is fantasy for if not for wishful thinking sometimes?

And now the only remaining question is: Will I read something not Bond-related any time soon? Ha ha ha who knows I don’t goodbye