This graphic novel presents within its very title an intriguing provocation reflected powerfully in the book’s cover. A woman lingers in a pose somewhere between spiritual possession and magazine pin-up her eyes an empty white a dragon reflected in a hand mirror that she holds. It’s beyond compelling before the spine is even cracked. Jac’s feverishly full debut is a fractured confessional of her complicated youth. She spends a substantial amount of the volume on her mother shown with a trucker cap bared teeth and straw-like hair irrefutably ugly inside and out. Jac takes the reader on a grand tour of her mother’s mental instability depicting religious fanaticism dangerous quack medicine emotional manipulation and physical abuse. Jac’s corpulent crass father and her stepmother don’t get a pass—the stepmother is portrayed as openly goading Jac to suicidality at every opportunity with her father refusing to intervene. As Jac grows older and gains a degree of independence she turns to visceral vignettes of teenage self-endangerment and articulates an acid-fueled epiphany about the nature of creativity in a capitalistic context experienced while watching a Miley Cyrus DJ set. The brutal honesty and unresolved fury with which she recounts the particulars of life-altering abuse is deeply uncomfortable but utterly riveting in no small part because of Jac’s wildly expressive artwork. Embracing the gritty grotesque aesthetic of 1970s underground comix her swirling intensely cross-hatched visions of violence chaos and substance abuse underline highlight and circle in red ink her psychic pain. The book feels forcefully expelled from the depths of Jac’s psyche gruesome and glorious at once.

Vernon’s brother had told him about the witch but he’s surprised by how much the witch knows about him. Reluctant to talk about his own life he settles in instead to hear “the scariest story ever told.” In it a sixth grade Lipan Apache boy named Sean leaves Texas to stay with his cousin Zeke in Massachusetts after his mother’s cancer treatment led to bankruptcy. One day Sean and Zeke find a missing cat and her kittens in an abandoned cliffside house. A girl named Jenny appears warning of danger—just before the ground collapses plunging the house to the shoreline below. Trapped by rising tides on an upper floor the kids encounter a lurking monster. The ocean creature angry over humans’ destructive wasteful ways offers them a deal: If they can guess one of its names it will return them safely to land and Sean is reminded of the monster in the Rio Grande from one of his mother’s stories. The cousins’ heritage is integral to this stand-alone series entry that weaves environmental themes into a layered high-stakes survival story. The characters are caringly developed adding emotional depth and genuine tension and scares propel the story.

Brown-skinned young Mayuri takes comfort from sounds: the music streaming from a boom box the words “sa re ga ma” (the foundational notes of Indian classical music which serves as a comforting mantra for the child) and especially Appa’s deep drumlike voice (“THA-ka dimi THA-ka dimi”). When father and daughter go out these sounds envelop Mayuri providing security as “the outside spins and whirls too fast.” Ice cream in the park is a sweet treat but an errant drop melting too quickly trails “a cold sticky trickle squiggling and wriggling down” Mayuri’s hand. That unpleasant sensation breaks the music’s safe spell. Mayuri strives to repeat the words “sa re ga ma” but the world is dark and windy illustrated by a convincing storm that clearly swirls within her. A close-up shows Mayuri’s face ravaged by the loss of her sheltering sheath. But Appa’s reassuring voice breaks through the shadows supporting Mayuri as she struggles to pull the threads of her sounds around her again. She succeeds and her father scoops her up carrying her home cocooned in a blanket harmony restored. Senthi’s melodic text synthesizes brilliantly with Henditirto’s expressionistic artwork; alternating vibrant swirls with ominously dark washes the artist perfectly captures joy and fear alike. An end note explains that Mayuri’s reliance on sound is a form of verbal stimming and points to some Tamil cultural connections.

Sixteen-year-old Georgie is less than thrilled to be shipped off with her older brother Hamish to star in their stepmother’s latest bid for fame: a survival reality TV show designed to monetize teen dysfunction. The show’s premise is that a group of high school delinquents will be dropped off in the middle of the woods for eight days. From the outset the set-up strains credulity in terms of the legality of leaving minors without food water or shelter in dangerous weather conditions but this can be set aside in favor of the gripping plot that is kickstarted by the disappearance of the counselors. Although the cameramen initially claim they have nothing to do with it they’re eventually pressured into revealing the teens have been purposefully abandoned as the first in a series of twists. A small contingent decides to split from the group try to catch up with the counselors taking a cameraman and the satellite phone with them. Thus begins the slow dwindling of their numbers as the line between fabricated scares and actual peril blur. The survivors will have to work together to survive the horrors in store for them. Lovise excels in conjuring a mounting sense of dread through the misty unsettling woods and a sinister presence just out of sight. The fairy tale elements are updated for the modern age in fun interesting ways—a social media–obsessed evil stepmother a trail of protein bread wrappers instead of crumbs and an evil witch who punishes “bad” children in a creatively gruesome fashion. While the general adult negligence that permeates this novel almost borders on cartoonish the characterization of the rest of the cast is more believable: with common archetypes like the spoiled rich kid and the mysterious bad boy Mack who Georgie inevitably falls for. Her and Hamish’s close bond is a more compelling emotional anchor than a budding romance that seems out of place amidst all the blood and violence. Still the novel is committed to its dark vision until the gory climax dampened only slightly by an unnecessary twist and ends on a satisfying note.

In Vilest Things (2024) Calla Tuoleimi accompanied by Anton Makusa managed a coup dethroning the prince August Shenzhi and forcing him out of his beloved capital San-Er. While August lurks in the provinces waiting and scheming to gain back his birthright Calla holds the crown with the promise of power and complete rule over Talin. But it’s not just August or the Weisanna guards she has to fend off in her attempts to usher in a new reign. The Crescent Society takes on a new role in the city always at Calla’s back and in her business. The very old and legendary Sinoa Tuoleimi now steps onto the stage in Otta Avia’s body and shakes up the game board. No one knows what actions she’ll take only that her endgame is complete control of Talin. The war across the crumbling empire makes way for the rumored return of the old gods the rise of heretics and a great release of qi tilting the game board off its axis. With very little trust to go around characters are left wondering if there are sides to pick or if the gods’ return challenges the power of the crown altogether. The war for the throne sets all the characters on paths that cross with allies enemies lovers and old friends. While the world expands in this volume and Gong incorporates new points of view from the capital the provinces and the gods relationships between the existing characters are somewhat neglected.

Journalist Sy sets the scene in 1937 in the Philippine capital with the arrival of a new high commissioner to join what later became what the author calls the Manila Poker Club. This was Paul McNutt former Indiana governor and ambitious Democratic rival to Franklin D. Roosevelt. He joined Philippine President Manuel Quezon Lieutenant Colonel Dwight D. Eisenhower (chief of staff to General Douglas MacArthur) and two Jewish American businessmen who had built a successful cigar manufacturing business. Hosted by Quezon at various venues the weekly card games were “irreverent stag affairs that often lasted all night.” Few at the time were aware of the awful treatment of Jews under the Nazis and that thousands were fleeing Germany—and no advanced nation including the U.S. wanted them. The Jewish businessmen were not shy about bringing up the subject at the card games and Quezon turned out to be amenable to accepting refugees. Almost all were penniless when leaving the Reich and few expected the Philippine government to pay for their travel and settlement. Sy delivers a compelling account of efforts over the next several years. American activists worked to raise enough money about $40000 per person. It was decided to settle refugees as farmers in Mindanao a large thinly populated island. “The president envisioned it ‘as a bigger project than Palestine’ given its fertile land” Sy writes. “Quezon also intimated that…‘he would be happy if we could settle a million refugees in Mindanao.’” This was a stretch but more than a thousand Jewish refugees arrived before the war began. The program fizzled out however. “The Japanese threat loomed over the islands” Sy writes “posing an even greater risk to the Mindanao Plan.” This occurs halfway through the book which then describes the brutal course that led to Philippines’ postwar independence from the U.S.

The Sea Breeze volunteer fire department puts out the blaze before it does further damage to the town’s small library. But Laura Meehan who moved back to the Jersey Shore community to run her late father’s paint store is incensed that the authorities aren’t taking the incident more seriously especially considering the online threats against library staff in the weeks before the fire. Part of the problem is jurisdictional. Det. Hannibal Watson who’s as personable as a starfish reports to the Sea Breeze Police Department while the even more taciturn Lt. Andre Delacorte belongs to the Atlantic County arson squad. Even when library director Evelyn Melbourne vanishes Watson and Delacorte play Alphonse and Gaston until an infuriated Laura cashes in her trump card enlisting her ex-cop father who although dead continues his spectral activities at least within the confines of Breezeway Paint and Wallpaper. The interplay between firecracker Laura and her ghostly dad on the one hand and the ostensibly living but otherwise inert authorities on the other should make for a lively round of trademark mayhem from Copperman. For once however the author chooses to play it cool. With the help of Roy her computer geek husband Laura traces leads roots through financial records and hunts down known associates—doing things a police investigation would typically consider routine but the Point Breeze/Atlantic County crew seem to have overlooked. It’s an odd day in Copperman town when nerdy Roy’s dad jokes are the zaniest thing going.

There are bodies everywhere in Araki’s lively fiction debut: bodies in the trunks of cars on the side of the road and most significantly for university student Haru hanging from the ceiling at home. As an asteroid hurtles steadily toward Earth—the planet’s destruction is inevitable—it triggers a gamut of reactions. Haru’s mother has left the family and her distraught father has died by suicide. She dutifully arranges his body before heading off to her driving lesson with charismatic instructor Isagawa. Though they’re not unmindful of the coming disaster these two women are determined to continue their normal lives while contemplating their options. During the driving lesson they discover a young murder victim riddled with stab wounds. Isagawa’s righteous indignation is triggered and since the overworked police will likely ignore the crime she decides to investigate. It turns out she’s a former police detective. Haru is inspired to assist her. Part mystery and part road trip Araki’s brisk novel rests on a cushion of banter between the two women. Despite its dark premise it’s surprisingly entertaining. Araki stylishly depicts the duo’s blossoming friendship their shared fervor to untangle a complex mystery and the growing confidence reflected in Haru’s engaging first-person narration. Simmering beneath the surface is a slyer exploration of human behavior in the face of imminent disaster.

In this world there are the magicless and those who are part of magical society which is itself divided into privileged powerful Mages discriminated-against Laborers and violent outcast Lawless. Hardworking Eloise Belrose hopes to become the first in her Laboring family to be admitted to the prestigious University of Magical Arts while handsome talented Grayson Stone the High Chancellor’s nephew is expected to be marked Gifted and admitted to all four university guilds: Alchemy Illusion Botany and Elemental. Shockingly their graduation exam mysteriously binds them and briefly manifests the Archive Key which unlocks a hidden room containing powerful dangerous books. Ordered to procure the Key within two weeks Eloise and Grayson are forced into constant surveilled proximity as the ruthless Chancellor prepares to conquer the Lawless. The duo’s reluctant alliance quickly turns into a fake-dating cover story that develops into real feelings. The well-paced plot combines familiar elements—rigid social hierarchies elite magical schooling a simmering rebellion and secret motives—into a gripping genre-bending page-turner. Mather thoughtfully explores class politics and injustice but the antagonist and worldbuilding would have benefitted from more nuanced development. Eloise and Grayson (both cued white) make an appealing couple whose banter-filled dialogue entertains and a diverse supporting cast especially Eloise’s scene-stealing queer best friend Maggie adds ride-or-die humor and heart.

Abel’s 7-year-old brother Micah has been dragon cursed an affliction placed on humankind by Diu War-Torn God of the Suns as a punishment for their greed. A cursed person is transformed into a murderous dragon during a monthly solar event involuntarily and unknowingly wreaking destruction. Rather than kill his brother’s dragon form golden-haired olive-skinned Abel goes against his dragon slayer oath performing experiments in an attempt to cure Micah and documenting his findings in a journal. This earns him the ire and mistrust of the Slayers Guild and the citizens of Florent. Short on money and eager to repair his reputation Abel continues hunting dragons. Eighteen-year-old Claire Belgard who’s raven haired and pale-skinned is hiding her own affliction with the dragon curse. Having killed her father and razed the family farm Claire is hopeful that Abel’s research might offer her a cure. Under the pretense of knowing the identity of his latest bounty Claire strikes up an acquaintance with Abel and insists on accompanying him on his mission awaiting the opportunity to inspect his journal. Although the novel feels overlong the grim scenarios unfolding against intriguing worldbuilding add freshness and originality. Bold resolute Claire contrasts well with the more reserved and morally complex Abel enhancing the development of their ensuing romance.

A skinless Boo Hag and many other truly terrifying creepy creatures depicted in garishly lit detail lunge and grimace directly at viewers in this unusually wide-ranging set of supernatural horrors. Organizing his entries into eight alliterative general categories—beginning with nine “Heinous Hags” and ending with assorted “Dark Divinities”—Forst pairs each full-page and occasionally full-spread portrait with an equally chilling description or scenario: “Her fangs and long claw-like nails are the last things you see before the Pontianak sucks the eyes out of your head digs her sharp nails into your stomach and begins to feast on your blood.” Though his subjects are drawn from traditional folklore or urban legendry he frequently brings them up to date with helpful side notes on comics or video games in which they figure and also tucks lists of recommended creature features and other modern media in at the end. For all the familiar boojums haunting these pages from the closet-dwelling Boogeyman to a blood-spattered La Llorona (dragons are oddly absent) it’s the large array of lesser-known threats that give this a leg up over many similar scare catalogs. “A lot of them have pretty sharp teeth” the author warns with fantastic understatement.

Shortly after Finnegan Kelly’s arrival at a youth correctional facility he and Clemence Todd are both placed in “administrative segregation”: Clem for speaking up for his classmates Finn for making a correctional officer uncomfortable. Clem observes “You don’t do anything unexpected. / You don’t be tall and big. / You don’t do anything tall or big.” When the boys are released from their cells for yard time they’re only allowed to socialize with one another. Finn who’s been ill since he came to the facility tells Clem that he’s found a wormhole in his cell and that he plans to travel back in time and undo the action he regrets most—and then he vanishes leaving Clem to be questioned by a panel of adults some well-meaning some hostile. Clem is a poet who narrates the past in spare thoughtful verse while conversing with the interrogating adults in present-tense prose. Leavitt accentuates the small scale—two friends a tiny patch of sky a notebook a ribbon a dog—vividly rendering compact spaces particularly in the verse passages. Readers are left to weigh little details as evidence for or against Finn’s claims and though the scales tip slightly to one side the circumstances remain refreshingly ambiguous. The boys read white.

About two years after his boyfriend London Sanders died in a terrible auto accident August Clarke feels like a shadow of his former self. Instead of going to UC Santa Barbara like he’d planned he’s working at a pizzeria. He’s even stopped writing songs. Luckily August’s friend and apartment-mate Maxine Cho is a stable anchor amid the chaos. But that stability gets turned upside down when August meets Cary a mysterious boy who keeps showing up whenever someone dies. The big reveal: Cary is a Deathless from a realm called Aides who escorts souls to their final resting place. When August follows Cary after one fateful encounter he accidentally winds up in Aides too. Can he find London’s soul there? And based on the way Cary keeps looking at him does August even want to? August’s tight first-person narration alternates between the present day and before the accident. The prologue and epilogue cleverly show London’s perspective which allows for a satisfying sense of closure. In this fresh riff on Greek mythology Winters draws a memorable racially diverse cast with multiple queer characters; August is Black and Cary has pale gold skin. The worldbuilding is comfortingly familiar without being derivative and the storytelling is compelling. But what really shines here is Winters’ wise take on grief which manages to feel authentically messy while hopeful.

In Dream by the Shadows (2025) Esmer Havenfall fell in love with Erebus the Shadow Bringer and freed him after 500 years of imprisonment reshaping the truth of who he really was. As Shadow Weavers Esmer and Erebus must now help the Seven—immortal Weavers who rule the Dream Realm—by defeating the demon king Raelion and stopping Corruption from destroying the world. Armed with the strength of their shadow magic and a willing legion of dreamers Esmer and Erebus accept the Seven’s request and prepare themselves their followers and their realm for battle. But the quest for freedom and light brings terrible challenges including mind control and heartbreaking betrayal. This story with a gothic atmosphere and white-presenting leads focuses on the price of power and how corruption destroys a society starting with its most vulnerable members; many readers will notice parallels with contemporary social and political challenges. The relationship between Esmer and Erebus reveals a balance of power; each one’s determination to save the other is a sign of their all-consuming love which at times leaves readers breathless. Similarly the tension over power is explored in the setting: Darkness and light do battle while all along they need to work together.

Left parentless by her mother’s death Unnur grew up under painful circumstances. At age 11 she’s dumped at a coastal work farm by her mother’s intolerant identical twin sister. Unnur gets over her initial shock and dismay thanks to the presence of Freyja a playful but elusive girl her age who’s made a playground of the rocky environs. But Freyja fails to return from one of her solo jaunts to what locals call the Dark Valley with its black-sand beach leaving a swirl of urgent secrets behind her. Some crucial ones involve Elias the aging American veteran who owns the farm. Flash forward to 2018 when Unnur is shaken out of a quiet existence with her 7-year-old daughter Lilja by a mysteriously delivered envelope of old Polaroids. It bears the words “Hœ Unna. Remember me?” Only one person ever called her that: Freyja. When Unnur’s long-absent ex-husband Nói shows up with a surprise wife Lóa—and an even bigger surprise a little girl named Freyja—the unnerving of Unnur continues. Still to come: threats to her custody of Lilja by Lóa a shady antagonist who turns out to be a police detective investigating the original Freyja’s disappearance. Melding past and present Thors effectively toys with the impulsive Unnur’s own dark secrets and reliability as a narrator—one who can’t remember “what kind of things [she] had done.” Could she have done something terrible to her friend? A long section of belatedly presented material about the Icelandic mysticism Freyja was drawn to throws things a bit off keel. But the threatened mother’s raw emotion and the book’s atmospheric pull are difficult to resist.

Pedrito explains to younger sister Pipay that they’re going to celebrate Undas “when families visit the cemetery and gather around their dead loved ones’ tombs.” This is typically celebrated on the first and second day of November during All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day. Pipay innocently asks if they’re still a family without their nanay and tatay (Tagalog for mother and father) prompting Pedrito to point out the different families they encounter as they walk. The candle sellers are an example of a “BIG AND LOUD” family; the flower sellers are “small and quiet.” The dialogue-heavy narrative flows naturally as they enter the cemetery. Soft borderless hues bleed into one another artfully textured with simple lines. Dreamy impressionistic scenes enhance Pedrito’s gentle observations of families: Some include members living apart—an acknowledgment of overseas Filipino workers. Others are headed by same-sex parents. “Some families have babies born in the tummy. Some have babies born in the heart.” A satisfying climax is reached as the pair visit their parents’ graves with their grandparents and Pedrito assures Pipay that they’ll always be a family “as long as our love for each other remains.” Tagalog words are interspersed throughout with a helpful glossary and backmatter providing more insight into the celebration.

It’s Friday school is out and Josie is psyched to begin her weekend. But on Sunday afternoon she gets a pit in her stomach that can mean only one thing: “Monday is coming.” So one Sunday afternoon she makes some desperate attempts to get out of school the next day (for instance clutching her belly and saying “Mom call 911. I think it’s my APPENDA-SOMETHING”). Finally Josie confesses her worries about Monday to her parents: “WHAT IF MY TEACHER’S SICK? WHAT IF I FORGET MY LIBRARY BOOK AGAIN?” and so on. Not only does talking about her problem make Josie feel better but it turns out that her parents get the Sunday Scaries too; comparing notes with them empowers Josie to face the school week. This story is all message and light on storytelling beats but for readers who share Josie’s particular anxiety it may be just what the mental-health professional ordered. While the text strains to inject levity Naidu finds an inventive way to convey Josie’s jitters with her caricaturish art: A giant hairy-looking green “MONDAY” appears on the wall of her bedroom and follows her around the house the ends of the letters becoming vine-like arms that reach for her. Josie and Mom are brown-skinned; Dad is beige-skinned.

In this stand-alone story set in the same world as Allison Saft’s Wings of Starlight (2025) Periwinkle a frost-talent who has a gift for finding things—or maybe they have a way of finding her?—discovers a lost thread of magic that grants her the ability to dream. But not all dreams are as sparkly as Periwinkle. One night she awakens from a nightmare to find herself in the Winter Woods with a fairy she’s never met a sparrow man named Weaver who claims to be a rare dream-talent. Disconcertingly Weaver knows her—he calls her “perfect Periwinkle” and for some reason doesn’t seem to like her very much. Nevertheless Periwinkle finds herself drawn to Weaver. When he tells her he can save the Pixie Dust Root by spinning her dreams into thread if she helps him find the magic tools he needs Periwinkle agrees. Their journey leads the pair who are pale-skinned to discover things they like about each other too. This is an opposites-attract adventure with romantic tension a high-stakes quest personal discovery and betrayal. The characters struggle with inner turmoil while also adjusting their understanding of each other. Bright balances the fun with explorations of themes of snap judgments labels and weaponizing fear.

Malik “Shake” Page has honed his basketball skills never missing morning shooting sessions in Marshall Grove a lower-income Chicago neighborhood. He inherited his love of basketball from his father “a legend / in Philly street ball” who played for Loyola and is now a coach but not his coach: “Mom won’t let him. / Too much pressure / for him to be just like you.” Shake believes he has what it takes for the NBA. Everything revolves around improving his game and showing up for his team—but their last game of the season stretches him in unexpected ways when he fractures his ankle and has to stop playing ball for the rest of the summer. Shake isolates himself turning down invitations and ignoring texts. He even distances himself from best friend Kyla and he doesn’t know how to repair what he broke between them. As his anxiety grows and he struggles with panic attacks Shake enters therapy. Randall’s creative use of layout fonts and other visual effects adds flair to this engaging narrative. The team and friendship dynamics in this story centering on Black characters are well written and feel genuine and readers will connect with the clever word play and Shake’s appealing voice. Final art not seen.

The legacy of colonialism casts a long shadow over the Virgin Islands. Although the enslavement of native people is consigned to the historical past the current status of the islands as colonies of two different countries the U.K. and the U.S. complicates travel and commerce with other Caribbean nations as the editors point out in their introduction. Reliance on tourism also places constraints on the islands’ economic growth. This collection confronts this legacy in powerful stories like Nisha Khiani Savara’s “Jellyfish” and Hadiya Sewer’s “Interment.” Apart from Traci O’Dea’s “American Bully” and Raven Phillips’ “Bush Cat” very few of the entries are crime stories in the traditional noir sense. In place of murder fraud and extortion economic privation and exploitation are sources of misery as in editor Georges’ “What Dread Hand” Gillian Royes’ “The Last Sail” and Tobias S. Buckell’s “Off the Rock.” Family conflict also takes a noir turn as in Rea Vanterpool’s “A Guide to Grape Music.” Many of the stories have a supernatural edge like “Interment” editor Yanique’s “Beach” and Celeste Rita Baker’s “Pass Through Mangrove” which also highlight Virgin Islanders’ close relationship with nature. Perhaps traditional noir is too dark for islands seen by many as a tropical paradise. But through a decade of workshops mentoring and literary festivals Yanique and Georges have created a distinctive brand of noir that thrives in the scenic beauty of the Virgin Islands.