Emma Types Stuff

I have mentioned my love of the X-Files on this blog before, and my last Character Book Club post covered another 90s icon in the form of Wednesday Addams . Dana Scully therefore was the logical choice to be the next target of my book-reccing affections.  What to say about Dana Scully? Sceptic, science-person, seasoned badass. .. she was assigned the X-Files and attempted to add a dose of reality to the insanity that ensued. Her chemistry with Mulder grew to the point that even the most hard-hearted person would have to admit that if there is such a thing as soulmates, they were the closest TV has so far gotten to proving their existence.  Her influence hasn't even been constrained fiction - The Scully Effect launched STEM careers for thousands of real women seeking to emulate the first fictional female scientist to truly impact popular culture.  So... what books would I rec to Scully? And what should you read when you want to get your inner Dana Scully on? A Natural History of Dr

I, like so many women, am a true crime junkie. A guilty one, who examines the injustices, prejudice and copaganda inherent in so much of it... but that doesn't stop me stuffing my face with popcorn while I ingest human misery for entertainment.  You are welcome to judge me. I judge myself. I've always liked crime fiction but I only started watching true crime in the months following my dad's (perfectly natural) death. It involved no thinking and there was something about seeing the very worst of humanity that made my own simple pain less extreme.  Notes on an Execution [Danya Kukafka] is sold as a story that examines our fascination with serial killers. Instead of seeking answers from an ultimately pathetic individual, it's a book that tells the stories of the women around him as the clock counts down to his execution. It aims to refocus on the victims, rather than his whacked out theories, and to examine the sick, invasive interest so many have in serial killers as a s

If I'd known this book was about creepy dolls, I might not have read it. OK, that's a lie, I totally would have. I enjoyed Grady Hendrix's Horrorstor and My Best Friend's Exorcism enough that I'm making a concerted effort to read his other books. He has an unmatched ability to mash the humdrum adult day-to-day experience with pure retro horror tropes. He's like R. L Stine for Millennials. Once again, Hendrix has found the sweet spot between emotional strife and the supernatural terror that puts it all in perspective. Louise - a successful, STEM working, single mother in San Fran - is rocked by the sudden accidental death of her parents.  Her return home is tense, with her wastrel brother Mark demanding control of the funeral arrangements and her determination to be the mature one collapsing with the news that she has been disinherited in favour of her brother. All too soon they are physically scrapping on the front lawn.  When the larger family intervenes, the

There's a certain irony that, for someone who loves the zombie genre, cannibalism gives me the ick. I mean, it gives most people the ick (or it should, anyway) but for someone who loves both true crime and horror, you would think cannabilism would be a subject I'd interact with more. Instead, I don't avoid it, but I rarely seek it out. Part of this is because body horror is my least favourite genre of horror. I don't like seeing or hearing about people doing gross things to bodies, alive or dead. I've never watched Silence of the Lambs , or even the promisingly queer Hannibal . I'm halfway through Yellowjackets and am only getting through it because Christina Ricci trumps the aforementioned ick. So why did I pick up A Certain Hunger [Chelsea G Summers]? Well, mostly because I am an eternal optimist and secretly believe that every book about subjects I outright dislike could still be game-changing. Also, the Overdue boys were reviewing it.  It tells the story of