We’re in the depths of spooky season now, so I’ve got one more monster stack for you today! Today’s stack includes a lot of monster books—some friendlier than others—but another big theme that came up as I was going through my stacks was the intersection of religion and other concepts of good and evil. Some of the books in this category are explicitly about religion, and a lot of them are about witches or demons who may not be as wicked as they first appear. I think it says a lot about human nature that, despite what we may have learned from the Salem witch trials and the fact that we often use the term “witch hunt” to mean unwarranted persecution, we are still so susceptible to the mob mentality that accuses one group of people or another of being evil or dangerous or threatening. Here, then, are several stories that make you stop and think about who the real threats are.

When I say the book is heavily researched, I mean that there’s about 55 pages of endnotes in very small print (including quoted excerpts in an even smaller font), and the endnotes have footnotes. Wickey includes a lot of excerpts from both contemporaneous accounts as well as both fiction and nonfiction written in the 300+ years since the events took place. The depictions of farmer Giles Corey and his wife Martha, two figures at the center of the trials, are based on a number of things: historical records from interviews and trials, as well as plays written by Longfellow and other authors based on the events.

Corey is the central figure in Wickey’s retelling, heavily informed by Longfellow’s play, Giles Corey of the Salem Farms: his wife Martha did not take the witchcraft trials seriously at first, but then was herself accused of witchcraft, with some of Giles’ own comments taken out of context and used against her. Later, Giles himself was also accused; when he refused to speak to begin his trial, he was crushed to death in an attempt to get him to speak. The book also includes scenes of other trials and the hangings and shows the impossible position the accused were put in, with no real way to prove their innocence against a system that had already decided on their guilt.

Wickey uses color sparingly: the parts that take place in 1692 are mostly in black and white, with color used to highlight vivid dreams or particular scenes. Hawthorne and Longfellow’s sections—mostly imaginary conversations, though based on actual quotes from both men—have some subdued blues and greens added to the palette. The few modern sections are in full color—though here there is often a whole lot of text overlaid, so that on some pages there’s almost as much space given to text as to illustration. The outro is where Wickey lays out what happened afterward—the shockingly long time it took for the accused to officially cleared, various scholarly work that has been published about the trials, the transformation of Salem into “Witch City,” and the ways that witchcraft is treated today (including the way there are still  literal witch hunts in many countries). He wrestles with the fact that much of the history was buried or forgotten for so long, and even now it is often ignored in favor of commercialized or simply inaccurate accounts.

This is a book that takes a good bit of time to read: I made my way through a page at a time with two bookmarks so that I could flip back and forth between the comic and the endnotes. Most of what I knew about the Salem witch trials was probably a brief overview in history class and from reading The Crucible (in middle school, maybe?), which Wickey explains had a lot of historical inaccuracies. I admit that I hadn’t really thought that deeply about it before, but this book shows the long tendrils of influence that those events still have on us today. It’s a powerful story and one that is worth learning and then remembering.

Moving into the realm of fiction, here’s another story about witches—at least, that’s what the townsfolk call them. Martino, born on an evening when two women were burned at the stake for witchcraft, is an albino, and is thus feared by the villagers. Bad weather, sick cows, it’s all because Martino is a curse, so his father finally agrees to send him away. But Martino takes refuge in the forest with Viviana, a woman he befriended after fleeing from some bullies. She lives on her own though she has an extended community of other outcast women. After an initial reluctance, she welcomes Martino to stay with her, leading to a rebirth and a discovery of his true self. There is magic here, but the distrust and suspicion of the villagers is largely driven by fear of what they don’t understand. The sisterhood that Viviana has is a beautiful thing, and one that is able to welcome Martino as one of their own. The illustrations in this one are particularly striking, and the story includes both painful tragedy and joyful connection.

Roland is a witch hunter, working to rid his village of evil. His wife, Ingrid, has been having vivid dreams of a dark figure, tempting her to give in to her desires. And what could it hurt: they’re only dreams, right? But in a world where accusations of witchcraft are taken seriously, Ingrid must be careful, even as her dreams start to intrude in her waking hours. She gets tangled up with her friend Maja’s secret affair and her attempts to help only bring accusations her way.

This graphic novel is a blend of horror and erotic fantasy; Roland’s single-minded pursuit of evil makes him blind to Ingrid’s situation and drives her even more into her dreamworld. The illustration style switches between realism for Ingrid’s dreams and a more comic-book style for the real world, as if asking the question: what is real and what is the dream? The book is a large-format hardcover that really highlights the artwork, and is definitely intended for adult readers.

Here’s another large-format comic for adults, and though you might not expect it from the cover, it also involves witch hunts, though that’s a bit more buried as part of the origin story. In the current world, saints are now pop stars, and Clelia is the queen. Her sold-out concerts aren’t just a chance to hear her music, but if you’re lucky you might also get a chance at being healed. But all is not well: Clelia has been having some strange visions lately, vivid memories of a burning woman she doesn’t recognize. As it turns out, actually Clelia is over 600 years old, kept alive by her agent Father Lev—who is actually a demon. The adoration and worship of her fans feeds the demons, and the saints system they’ve cooked up keeps the supply coming, and Lev needs Clelia to keep playing the part and forget the past that made her who she is.

Meanwhile, a newcomer arrives on the scene, with divine music and amazing miracles of her own, challenging Clelia’s popularity. Who is she? Where did she come from? There are plots and machinations going on behind the scenes, and the demon’s organization is scrambling to keep their show from falling apart.

It’s funny—it’s almost an inversion of K-Pop Demon Hunters, because it’s about the emotional power drawn from the fans, but in this case it’s the demons who have been on top for centuries, and their dominance is threatened by an angel, beating them at their own game. But then this book goes in some bizarre directions; when you think you know where the story is going next, it throws you for a loop. A wild, subversive book about an epic showdown between not-so-good and not-so-evil.

Catherine was raised Catholic, but now she’s in her twenties and the church isn’t really a big part of her life … except that she has still never missed mass. When she sneaks out to attend mass on Sundays, she tells her boyfriend she’s going out for a run, and she has an uneasy feeling that something bad could happen if she doesn’t go.

When she finally skips mass for the first time, she quickly regrets it: a strange, blob-shaped demon appears, telling her that he has possessed her. Her attempts to be good in an attempt to drive out the demon take her to extremes, even while she tries to figure out what is real. Nobody else seems to see or hear the demon, yet it still seems to have some real effects on Catherine.

I really enjoyed this one, because of the way it really captured Catherine’s dilemma as well as the way that the people in her life responded when she tried to talk to them about it. Meyer also keeps you guessing about what’s going on and where the story is going. It reminded me a little of this true story I’d heard on the radio, “A Short Stay in Hell,” in which a Steven Peck is convinced that he has become part of the Great Satan Walmart Organization, and his family struggles to convince him that he’s hallucinating; he talks a bit about what it felt like in the moment to know certain things were true, and how that affected the way he thought about faith and belief afterward.

Here’s another graphic novel that brings together religion and the wicked—this time, in the form of vampires. And not just any vampires, but vampires running a brothel and a speakeasy during Prohibition. Sometimes the vampires feed on their clients, but Cora has never been able to kill on her own. What’s more, she is in love with Father Orville, the priest at the local church, faithfully attending service and confession even though her cross necklace burns her skin.

When Father Orville discovers her secret, he proposes a solution: she can help him deal with the men who have confessed to horrible deeds, and get a meal in the process. But while Cora is grateful that Orville is giving her a path to absolution, he can easily convince her to do his dirty work. It’s another story that asks the question: who is the real monster here? There’s some mature content in this one so I’d recommend it for adult readers.

This book has an odd format to it—it alternates between prose and comics, and the two tell sort of the same story, but not exactly in the same way. Rée explains in the introduction that this collaboration isn’t a comic book adaptation of a story, but that both the prose and the illustrations were a “conversation with each other.”

The story itself involves various monsters from Asian folklore, many of them some form of vengeful spirit that attacks lecherous men or overly greedy victims. Zee’s father was a monster hunter, and Zee was raised into the business, learning how to lure a pontianak out of hiding by pretending to be drunk. But when Zee looked into the monster’s eyes, they saw something else there, and they weren’t so sure that their dad’s clients didn’t deserve to face these monsters after all. Eventually, Zee went into a different sort of business, building a sanctuary for the various monsters and hiring them out to defend the most vulnerable. In some ways it mirrors what happens in The Confessional, above, but in this case the monsters have more agency and their goals are actually aligned with Zee.

But that’s only the beginning of the story. Zee’s freelance business attracts the attention of the demons, who run things like a multinational corporation. They want to buy out Zee’s business, and the monsters who stay end up in corporate desk jobs, wishing for their old lives back. It’s a clever mash-up of the old and the new, monsters and day jobs. Oh, and there’s even a text-based game you can play online.

This one’s a graphic memoir, and although it’s based on a true story, it has some elements that make it fit the theme—including a ghost! Corey’s parents divorced when he was young—his mother accused his father of abusing Corey’s little sister Sarah, and even though the court found him not guilty, the mother was convinced. During their court-appointed visitations, Corey and Sarah didn’t interact with the father, refusing to say a word at their mother’s behest. Corey’s family were devout Mormons, and he believed his mom when she told him that she was listening to God.

So when God told her to take the kids and flee, that the dad was going to try some sneaky tactics to win them over, Corey went along with it. They ended up on the run for a month, driving around in the desert while avoiding police that are trying to track them down, as well as contact with any friends or relatives who try to reach out to them. It’s during this time that Corey begins to have doubts about his mom’s claims, which also makes him wonder what else may not be true. He also encounters a ghost—or a vision—who helps him think through some tough issues, including the parts of himself that he works so hard to hide.

Corey faces some really tough decisions: if you’ve trusted your mom to point you in the right direction your entire life, how do you even disagree with her? How do you start to build a relationship with your dad after years of shutting him out—especially if you’ve been told that he’s a threat? Where is the dividing line between trusting in God’s plan and taking dangerous risks?

Ash is ready to die. She has the perfect outfit, the perfect soundtrack (Elliott Smith, her idol), and a very cool knife that she got from Etsy (well, “Getsy,” but you know what it really is). There’s just one problem: the knife has a protection spell on it, and now she’s apparently invincible—the opposite of the intended effect. So she still has to put up with her depressing life and her mom’s annoying boyfriend who seems way too eager to recommend this new drug Somnia to everyone.

So Ash tracks down the knife seller to complain, and meets Liv, a teenage witch. Well, a beginner witch, which explains why her good luck charm from Reddit had some unintended consequences. Thus begins their journey to undo the spell so Ash can get on with her death, though everything ends up being a lot more complicated than they anticipated.

The book’s plot is centered on suicide and Ash serves as both the main character and the narrator (often breaking the fourth wall to address the reader), but ultimately the story is about hope and optimism and choosing to live, perhaps a bit begrudgingly on Ash’s part. The twists and turns of the story are entertaining, though, as are the various witches that Liv recruits for help with Ash’s predicament.

Oddly enough, Maelstrom decides to join the resistance (though it takes some convincing), in part because he feels his mom will never really let him rule anyway and in part because he’s immature and has nothing better to do. He travels with Twigs and we get to see what life is like outside of the castle, learn more about Twigs and how the sword came into her possession, and eventually reach a showdown with Lady Renova. But Maelstrom has more tricks up his sleeve, and he loves a dramatic double-cross.

I’ve got several books in this stack that are about lovable bad guys. Of course, this isn’t a new trend: Wicked is a good example of a story that flips the script and tells things from the antagonist’s point of view and the original book has been around for 30 years now! Seeing things from the other perspective doesn’t always absolve the “bad guy” in the story but it often explains how they became who they are, and in some cases shows the ways that they’ve been misjudged or portrayed unfairly. In this book, Maelstrom comes off largely as a sheltered kid, albeit one with shape-shifting and necromancy powers, and up until his experiences with Twig he’s been shaped by his mother as the only person who’s been around to influence him. And even in this story, where Renova is the primary antagonist, the bad guy to Maelstrom’s not-so-bad guy, we do get glimpses into her past as well, learning what made her into the power-hungry necromancer.

Hawthorne Vandercast is a non-binary teenager who hates being a potion barista at their mom’s shop. They simply can’t wait to join the Brigade of Shade and get their evil on—they’ve got a spectacular outfit for the audition and they know all about the Brigade’s evil deeds … but apparently passion alone isn’t enough to impress them. On the other hand, Maple, the cheerful, giggly customer who can never leave Hawthorne alone, wows the Brigade with her plant magic—and then hatches a plan to get Hawthorne into the Brigade.

The plan goes even better than expected, and Hawthorne somehow ends up in charge of the Brigade—and realizes that it’s been some time since they really put any effort into being bad. Hawthorne and Maple whip the Brigade into shape and they really start terrorizing the town again… until Hawthorne realizes that what they really wanted was the fun part of being bad, not the evil parts like actually hurting people. Unfortunately, by then Maple’s powerful magic seems unstoppable.

Evil-ish is another story that plays around with the tropes of good and evil, and shows that sometimes things are more complicated than that. It’s also a story about figuring out who you are and what you really want, and realizing that some things—like growing up in a boring village with a mom and brother who adore you—aren’t as unbearable as they seem when you’re an angsty teen.

Meesh is supposed to be a demon, but she’s terrible at breathing fire and spitting acid. She’d rather talk to flowers and watch her favorite show, about fairy Princess Nouna. When a strange lava starts turning everyone into stone, Meesh decides to travel to Plumeria City and ask Princess Nouna to help heal everything with her magical ruby. What she doesn’t expect is that fairies hate demons, and a stray magical portal teleports Meesh and Nouna off into an unknown part of the world. Even worse, it turns out that not everything about the TV show is true—Nouna can’t even fly on her own, and her magical ruby is missing. Though Meesh isn’t great at being a demon, she finds that when she leans into her own strengths, she’s able to rally others to her side, and they work together to save Mount Magma. The first book does end with a sneaky cliffhanger, though: after what seems like a happy ending, a mysterious figure (seen on the cover of Book 2: The Secret of the Fang) shows up with a sinister threat.

The second book digs a little deeper: the strange lava that affected Mount Magma was only a piece of the plot, and the person behind it is gearing up for round two. Meesh started learning to master some new abilities in the first book thanks to a magical fang necklace, and in the second book we learn a bit about the fang’s origins, as well as the division between fairies and demons. Although it’s a cartoony, fantastical story, the problems with this magical society also have their roots in what amounts to racism, unfairly blaming one group for unexplained ills. While there’s no explicit connection, it was easy for me to see some reflections of the Salem witch trials even in this kid’s book. Now one of the survivors is after revenge, and Mika must meet it not with her demon powers but with her compassion and her ability to change hearts and minds. It’s a pretty powerful message about dealing with injustice, disguised as a cute comic book for kids.

I know, summer is already over, but that’s okay—this book is still a fun read for October! Maya just finished seventh grade and isn’t really looking forward to a lonely summer at home—but then her dad’s girlfriend Charlotte surprises her with a trip to a culinary camp! But when she arrives, she notices something odd about the campers, who don’t seem to know anything about cooking… because it’s actually a vampire camp. Is Charlotte trying to get rid of Maya or was there some sort of mix-up? Unfortunately, she can’t call her dad to get things straightened out because there’s a strict “no phones” rule at Camp Dracula.

Maya does her best to hide the fact that she’s a regular human so she doesn’t end up as the main course. As she gets to know her cabinmates she actually starts to enjoy herself a little, even while scheming ways to get a message to her dad. This comic has it all: the angsty and the too-cheerful camp counselors, sneaking out of bunks at night, the joys and misunderstandings involved in new friendships, and all the usual summer camp activities, but with a vampire twist.

Ruby’s not having a great time in high school, but things start looking up when the Mooney family moves to town. Ella brings a bit of color into Ruby’s life (literally—the first time Ruby sees her, the mostly black and white comic gets a splash of full color). As they start to hang out, though, Ruby realizes that Ella is a bit unusual: she’s never had ice cream or been on a Ferris wheel. But that’s because she’s actually a monster—when she gets angry, she turns into something like a werewolf, with fangs and fur and a tail. It turns out the Mooneys took on human form and moved to town to hide from some scientists who were intent on capturing them for study. Of course, the problem is that the scientists are still on their trail and closing in fast.

Ok, hear me out: how about a horror story featuring … cereal mascots? You know, like Count Chocula and Franken Berry and Toucan Sam. In this story, the Marquis de Cocoa has been turned into a vampire, but to keep up appearances he must endure the morning sun and continue hosting the elaborate breakfast parties he’s known for so the aristocracy will not suspect his secret. The Leprechaun King (with his crown of many-colored gems) seeks revenge for his kingdom, slaughtered by General Mills and his lackey, Captain Crackle. The General has been striking out from Fortress Honeycomb, killing some and capturing others to subject them to bizarre experiments—like poor Franken Cherrie, who has been turned into an undead monstrosity, or the lesser known Fruit Brute. The Count eventually realizes he must take action, that he cannot hide away in his castle forever and joins the leprechaun in a desperate attempt to storm Fortress Honeycomb. Backstabbing, betrayal, and blood-sucking—it’s all part of this balanced breakfast tale.

I was impressed by all the cereal references Russell managed to squeeze into this story, sometimes just in passing. The Dig’Em Frog from Honey Smacks shows up as a background character. Duke Antonio (the tiger) appears at one of the Count’s breakfasts. Toucan Sam is a grotesque parody of his cartoon self, speaking only in rhymes. Even the Quaker from Quaker Oats makes an appearance (in a scene that echoes the witch hunts). But even with all these winks and nods, there’s a tightly woven story about impossible choices and terrible sacrifices, and Snejbjerg’s illustrations really bring the characters to life. As the leprechaun says, it’s magically delicious.

Speaking of Mark Russell, he’s got another comic coming out this week that would have fit in last week’s stack. Thanksgiving is a standalone single issue story about a family getting together for Thanksgiving dinner, where they get an unexpectedly visit by the Turkeyneck Killer.

I mentioned in my reading resolutions at the beginning of the year that I planned to read The Spiderwick Chronicles this year, so this week while I was sequestered in the basement with COVID, I sat down and read the rest. It’s a series that I’d just never gotten around to (as mentioned last year around this time) but as a big fan of Tony DiTerlizzi’s work it was a big gap that I needed to address. I hadn’t realized until I started reading that the books are pretty short, closer to chapter books than a lot of the middle grade novels I was expecting. (I think I’d pictured them more along the lines of A Series of Unfortunate Events.) These are snappy and dive right into the story, and then wrap things up, with a little poem at the end that hints at things to come.

Chances are pretty good that you or your kids may have read these already, so I won’t dwell on the finer plot details too much: the three  Grace siblings (not their real name) discover their great-uncle Arthur’s field guide to faeries and soon find that the magical world is both real and dangerous, and they get caught up in all sorts of misadventures, largely centered around the book itself, as many of the magical folk want to get their hands on it for their own purposes. The whole thing is framed as a true story: the kids reached out to DiTerlizzi and Black because they had read their books and figured they believed in faeries and had contacts in the publishing world to get this story out.

One thing I didn’t know was that the original series concludes with Book 5—the Graces have their big final showdown and a happy ending, and the poem at the back seems more or less like it’s wrapping things up. Books 6 through 8 were originally published as Beyond the Spiderwick Chronicles, and they pick up the story with a different set of characters, mostly focusing on Nick and his new stepsister Laurie (along with Nick’s older brother Jules). Laurie is obsessed with faeries and magic, and has a copy of Arthur Spiderwick’s Field Guide—which, thanks to DiTerlizzi and Black, has now been reprinted (but sold as “fiction” so they don’t get in trouble, of course). Pretty soon, though, Nick and Laurie are tangled up in a mess involving nixies, fire-breathing giants, and more. These final three books are a little bit longer than the earlier ones, but they’re still pretty quick reads. One of the things I liked about these is that the kids do have to work around their parents, who are not entirely absent or too busy to know their kids are traipsing about on their own. There’s also a fun moment in Book 6, “Chapter Seven: In Which We Nearly Break the Fourth Wall,” when DiTerlizzi and Black show up in the story themselves, attending a book signing. They’re not particularly helpful to Nick and Laurie, unfortunately.

Anyway, if you or your kids like faeries and magical creatures—particularly the tricksy, not-always-friendly types, The Spiderwick Chronicles is a fun journey into that world, and it’s easy to see why it’s such a big hit.

Disclosure: I received review copies or digital access to the comics included in this column. Affiliate links to Bookshop.org help support my writing and independent booksellers!

Source: geekdad.com