For my first installment of this year’s Readers Imbibing Peril challenge, I have a highly undemanding selection of a novella, a picture book, and a teen graphic novel. And nothing here is nearly as scary as proper horror-fiction readers might be expecting.

The Hundred and Ninety-Nine Steps by Michel Faber (2001)

One of my reads in Hay was this suspenseful novella set in Whitby. Faber was invited by the then artist in residence at Whitby Abbey to write a story inspired by the English Heritage archaeological excavation taking place there in the summer of 2000. His protagonist, Siân, is living in a hotel and working on the dig. She meets Magnus, a handsome doctor, when he comes to exercise the dog he inherited from his late father on the stone steps leading up to the abbey. Siân had been in an accident and is still dealing with the physical and mental after-effects. Each morning she wakes from a nightmare of a man with large hands slitting her throat. When Magnus brings her a centuries-old message in a bottle from his father’s house for her to open and decipher, another layer of intrigue enters: the crumbling document appears to be a murderer’s confession.

At first I worried Faber would turn this into a simple, predictable ghost story and milk expected sources of trauma. But the plot twists kept surprising me. The focus on women’s bodies and sexuality is appropriate for the town that gave us Dracula. This had hidden depths and at 116 pages could easily be a one-sitting read. Hadrian the dog is a great character, too, and this is even in my favourite font, Mrs Eaves, one that Canongate uses often. [Unfortunate error: Faber twice refers to Whitby as being Northumbrian. Although it was in the historical kingdom of Northumbria, it is actually in North Yorkshire rather than Northumberland.] (Secondhand – Bookcase, Carlisle, 2023)

How to Make Friends with a Ghost by Rebecca Green (2017)

Here Green proposes a ghost as a lifelong, visible friend. The book has more words and more advanced ideas than much of what I pick up from the picture book boxes. It’s presented as almost a field guide to understanding the origins and behaviours of ghosts, or maybe a new parent’s or pet owner’s handbook telling how to approach things like baths, bedtime and feeding. What’s unusual about it is that Green takes what’s generally understood as spooky about ghosts and makes it cutesy through faux expert quotes, recipes, etc. She also employs Rowling-esque grossness, e.g. toe jam served on musty biscuits. Perhaps her aim was to tame and thus defang what might make young children afraid. I enjoyed the art more than the sometimes twee words. (Public library)

The Sad Ghost Club by Lize Meddings (2021)

This is the simplest of comics. Sam or “SG” goes around wearing a sheet – a tangible depression they can’t take off. (Again, ghosts aren’t really scary here, just a metaphor for not fully living.) Anxiety about school assignments and lack of friends is nearly overwhelming, but at a party SG notices a kindred spirit also dressed in a sheet: Socks. They’re awkward with each other until they dare to be vulnerable, stop posing as cool, and instead share how much they’re struggling with their mental health. Just to find someone who says “I know exactly what you mean” and can help keep things in perspective is huge. The book ends with SG on a quest to find others in the same situation. The whole thing is in black-and-white and the setups are minimalist (houses, a grocery store, a party, empty streets, a bench in a wooded area where they overlook the town). Not a whole lot of art skill required to illustrate this one, but it’s sweet and well-meaning. I definitely don’t need to read the sequels, though. The tone is similar to the later Heartstopper books and the art is similar to in Sheets and Delicates by Brenna Thummler, all of which are much more accomplished as graphic novels go. (Public library)