Picks by Premee Mohamed
The Marigold by Andrew F. Sullivan (ECW Press)
A near-future Toronto has taken the brakes off urban development, which seems like a good thing—people need housing, right? But even as the towers rise, the city is falling apart around them—technology, ritual, corruption, and rot scuffle to rise to the top, trampling on each other and the citizenry to stay ahead. The only way to win is to be rich, and the only way to be rich is to ensure that your precious investments don’t turn to fungal sludge. A dedicated public servant trying to contain the Wet (by the way, don’t eat a large meal before starting this novel) just wants to do her job, not deal with the rest of this disaster. It’s body horror, it’s eco-horror, it’s psychological horror, it’s…it’s real estate horror.
The Laws of the Skies by Gregoire Courtois, translated by Rhonda Mullins (Coach House Books)
Horror has never been a child-free space; kids can be possessed, undead, murderers, pawns, bait, victims, collateral damage. Part of confronting our fears in fiction can involve allowing ourselves to think about things that would normally freeze us to the spot: What if something happened to my kid? What would I do? Or: What if my kid went missing? How would they survive? In Courtois’ book, the adults try to maintain order while in charge of a dozen six-year-olds—barely rational, small, fragile, seemingly innocent when compared to the vast ancient darkness of the woods. As with all good horror, the real dangers are not what they encounter, but what they’ve brought with them.
Horsefly by Mireille Gagné, translated by Pablo Strauss (Coach House Books)
This short book is all the more horrifying (in my opinion) for being loosely inspired by real life—I like my scares firmly in the category of “couldn’t be me.” But both the Axis and Allies actually did work on biological weapons in World War II (read Six-Legged Soldiers: Using Insects as Weapons of War by Jeffrey A. Lockwood if you really want nightmares), and the thought of their experiments breaking containment and surviving unseen for decades is a chilling one. I like bugs just fine, but I have to admit they’re ideally suited for horror: we can’t control them or reason with them, they reproduce and spread rapidly, and, in this case, their bite causes homicidal bouts of rage.
Pontypool Changes Everything by Tony Burgess (ECW Press)
Speaking of homicidal bouts of rage: an older novel, but zombies and cannibalism are timeless! Burgess’ novel of a virus that spreads through speech is so sharply written that you’ll find yourself worrying about what you’ve caught by the end of it; the language itself slides under your skin like a knife. The emotional journey of the infected—a short one, from disbelief and revulsion to homicidal desire—is captured in truly gruesome detail. Every crunch, every splash, every scream, every bite. This is pandemic horror for those of us ready to be re-traumatized by our own ongoing pandemic. And if you haven’t gotten your fill of gore, good news—there’s a movie!
Wheetago War Roth by Richard Van Camp, illustrated by Christopher Shy
(Renegade Arts Entertainment)
I wanted to include at least one graphic novel, particularly for people who don’t read many comics or graphic novels—and this was a really scary one. It was also shortlisted for a number of awards, and rightfully so. The art is stunningly atmospheric and detailed, and the monster design is utterly terrifying. But more than that, like all horror, it forces the reader to confront our deepest values and morals, and what we would do if faced with an enemy we know is too powerful to defeat. Give up? Sacrifice ourselves? Ally with people (or creatures) we’d never normally speak to? Fight anyway? And how can we preserve our humanity no matter which path we take? I am looking forward to further installments in this series because there is so much more to explore in this world.
Zegaajimo: Indigenous Horror Fiction edited by Nathan Niigan Noodin Adler
and Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm (Kegedonce Press)
As someone with a number of short stories in horror anthologies, I also wanted to shout out at least one horror anthology in this list. Sometimes readers think “Well, how scary can you get in short fiction? There’s no room to build up any real tension or suspense.” But short stories are where modern horror began—emerging from ghost stories and gothic literary traditions, always changing with the times to ask, “How can we capture the fears of the world in which we live now?” This Indigenous-authored anthology contains some big names working in a small space, but don’t let the wordcount lull you into complacency: these are seriously scary stories.
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PREMEE MOHAMED is a Nebula, World Fantasy, Ignyte, Locus, and Aurora award-winning Indo-Caribbean scientist and speculative fiction author based in Edmonton, Alberta. She has also been a finalist for the Hugo, British Fantasy, British Science Fiction, Ursula K. Le Guin, and Crawford awards. In 2024, she was the Edmonton Public Library writer-in-residence, and she has taught at establishments including the Banff Institute for the Arts, Clarion, and the Carl Brandon Society. She has judged short fiction contests for CBC and Alberta Views Magazine. While primarily working in long form, her short fiction has appeared in many venues. She can be found on her website at www.premeemohamed.com.
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Thanks to Premee for this ghoulishly good slate of horror books. A reminder that you can order any of these books through All Lit Up, or press the “Shop Local” button to discover them at your local independent bookstore.
Keep up with more spooky book recommendations here, and stay tuned for picks from tomorrow’s recommender, MS Berry.
