The Iron Garden Sutra

The Iron Garden Sutra

by A. D. Sui

Erewhon, 2026. 383 pages. Sci Fi / Horror.

Vessel Iris has devoted himself to the Starlit Order as a death monk, performing funeral rites for the dead across the galaxy. The spaceship Counsel of Nicaea has been lost for more than a thousand years, its passengers reduced to dust and bone. A relic of Earth’s dying past, its sudden appearance has attracted a team of academics eager to investigate its archaeological history, and Iris has been assigned to bring peace to the crew’s long-departed souls. Carpeted in moss and intertwined with vines, Nicaea is more forest than ship, but the plant life isn’t the only thing to have survived the centuries. Something aboard is stalking the explorers one by one, and Iris may be their only hope for survival.

I resonated with the remarkably contemplative tone regarding prejudice, religious doubt, and the ethics of AI, all in the context of essentially a cosmic horror tale. The use of sentient AI as an implanted companion creates an interesting dynamic between Iris and his friend/helper/abuser, and it raises the question of AI rights: can personhood be defined by any physical criterion, or is sentience sufficient? The characters were well-rounded, especially the protagonist Iris, and the atmosphere was immersive. At times, the plot slowed enough to enjoy this lush landscape that Sui has created (and to give the reader a reprieve from the traditional intensifying pace of horror). This book is well-primed for a sequel without being a cliffhanger, which seems to be a difficult balance to strike. 

A heads up to those who struggle with disordered eating that this occurs throughout the work (a lot).

Bury Your Gays

Bury Your Gays

by Chuck Tingle

Tor Nightfire, 2024. 295 pages. Horror.

Misha knows that chasing success in Hollywood can be hell. But finally, after years of trying to make it, his big moment is here: an Oscar nomination. And the executives at the studio for his long-running streaming series know just the thing to kick his career to the next level: kill off the gay characters, "for the algorithm," in the upcoming season finale. Misha refuses, but he soon realizes that he’s just put a target on his back. And what’s worse, monsters from his horror movie days are stalking him and his friends through the hills above Los Angeles. Haunted by his past, Misha must risk his entire future – before the horrors from the silver screen find a way to bury him for good.

I'll be the first to admit that horror isn't my first go-to genre. But I've been trying to appreciate the genre more. Tingle strikes a good chord here with a clever storyline that evoked discomfort with its gory, graphic, upsetting descriptions of body horror. 

I was surprised by the undertones (or overtones?) that spoke to corporate greed and queer erasure in media, and I didn't expect to be that deeply touched by this work. Plus, these topics are handled in a way that doesn't come across as heavy-handed or pedantic, nor does it detract from the storytelling. 

While the pacing lagged a touch in the middle, I was strangely uplifted by the value of honoring all parts of yourself and refusing to hide your identity. It's fair to say that I didn't foresee any of this, given Tingle's enormous self-published œuvre which largely comprises satire and what one might call performance art in prose (and what is technically gay monster erotica).

If We Survive This

If We Survive This

by Racquel Marie

Feiwel & Friends, 2025. 336 pages. Horror.

Flora Braddock Paz has always considered herself weak. But half a year into the global outbreak of a rabies mutation that transforms people into violent, zombielike "rabids," she and her older brother Cain are still alive. With their mom dead, their dad missing, and their LA suburb left desolate, they form a plan: to venture to their secluded family cabin in northern California, their best chance at a safe haven – and maybe even seeing their dad again. The dangers of the world have changed, but so has Flora. Still, their journey upstate is complicated by familiar faces, hidden truths, and painful memories of the family making this trip last year. For Flora, one thing inevitably remains: no matter how far you run, death is never far behind.

I haven't read very many apocalyptic stories that feature queer or neurodiverse characters, and this one refreshingly has both. The sibling dynamics between Flora and Cain seemed very true to life. This spooky little read has its fair share of violence and gore, but it mainly centers on community, family, and belonging. This wasn't nearly as nightmare-inducing as the bone-chilling œuvre of Stephen King and the like (but I did have to pause when a certain inevitable scene involving the dog Biscuit came around... but don't worry, the dog doesn't die).

Five Midnights

Five Midnights

by Ann Dávila Cardinal
Tor Teen, 2019. 288 pages. Horror

When teen Lupe Dávila travels from Vermont to Puerto Rico to visit police chief uncle, she arrives just as he is called to the scene of a grisly murder, the first of many. Lupe and her new friend Javier set out to discover who – or what – is causing these murders. But the clues they find lead them into a world of myth, legend, and shadow.

This thrilling novel sets the Latin American myth of el Cuco against the backdrop of modern-day San Juan. As a Puerto Rican female author, Cardinal seems to understand that not everyone in her reader base will understand written Spanish; therefore, she masterfully crafts passages that include Spanish phrases and dialogue, always being sure to weave in translations or explanations. However, the characterization feels a little forced: the protagonist never really settles into any distinct personality traits, except perhaps for teenage angst. Despite this, the break-neck pace of this plot makes for a very compelling read. 

Horrorstör

Horrorstör
by Grady Hendrix
Quirk, 2014. 243 pages. Horror

Weird things are happening at the Cleveland branch of Orsk, a fictional budget version of IKEA. Employees find damaged and destroyed items, but security footage reveals nothing out of the ordinary. With sales falling and managers panicking, three employees volunteer to work a dusk-till-dawn shift in hopes of catching the perpetrator. But their patrols in the dead of night reveal strange sights and sounds, and horrors that defy the imagination.

This book is formatted like a mail order catalog, including product illustrations and a home delivery form, which adds to the charm. Hendrix breaks the mold of the decaying, overgrown, crumbling haunted house and recasts it in a clean, brightly-lit, soulless contemporary setting. The fast pace of this story keeps you on the edge of your seat and keeps the pages turning quickly. Bear in mind -- this book can get a bit gruesome, and it's not for the squeamish.

*This blogpost first appeared on Provo City Library Staff Reviews blog.*