This content contains affiliate links. When you buy through these links, we may earn an affiliate commission.
It’s that time of year where I can’t stop thinking about horror fiction, even if I’m not currently reading it. Right now, I’m lost in The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration by Isabel Wilkerson, which I will absolutely be writing about once I’m done. But every time October approaches, there’s a specific book I think about because it gifted me, someone who also loves an engrossing horror movie, a deeply satisfying reading experience. Also, reading a book about the migration of Black Americans would bring to mind the novel I’m talking about today, following a Black woman in her family home in the Pacific Northwest, a home that holds great and terrible history. And don’t we know history isn’t something to be ignored.
The Good House by Tananarive Due
When I first picked up this book, I thought I had a long road ahead of me. I wanted to love it based on the premise, but I have a terrible track record with follow-through on long books and my paperback truly looked like a doorstop (I use the past tense because I loaned the book out years ago and it still hasn’t been returned to me. I’m not salty.). Once I started reading, I realized I had nothing to worry about because suddenly it was the wee hours of the morning and I was halfway through the book. I used to read a lot of Stephen King, as one does, and this book gave me those feels of being a teen discovering a love of horror fiction and finding it as enjoyable as watching horror onscreen. It’s the pacing; it’s the unfussy, perfectly tuned writing style; it’s the protagonist. I was horrified, I was saddened, and I was thoroughly entertained.
Angela has experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows in her grandmother’s house, and she returns to it defeated and bereft after tragedy steals seemingly everything away from her: her marriage, her child, her ability to process a turmoil of emotions. She returns to the town she grew up in to face her grief, but the house has a surprise in store for its occupant, welcoming Angela with inexplicable and unnerving phenomena. To everyone else, she’s a grieving mother beside herself and hardly expected to have her wits about her, but Angela knows she’s not imagining things. The house is alive. How, why, and whether whatever possesses it has malevolent designs is something she has to figure out. It might be that Angela has to go it alone, but she knows the town of Sacajawea and its people, and she’ll take help wherever she can find it.
This is the book I’d recommend first to anyone looking for page-turning horror they can really get lost in. Pair it with a big bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues and you’re set.
In Reading Color
A weekly newsletter focusing on literature by and about people of color!
The comments section is moderated according to our community guidelines. Please check them out so we can maintain a safe and supportive community of readers!