Things that brought me delight in October, 2026:
If you're a Cramps fan, you'll recognize a lot of the tracks on Gravest Gravy, but you haven't heard them quite so raw and primordial as this. This batch of tracks was slated for release in the 90s, but they got shelved until now--and we are absolutely blessed to be able to hear them in the year 2026. This is purestrain Cramps--rock 'n' roll that still sounds dangerous, a mindset warped by b-movie and trash culture kitsch, blood pumpin' perfection.
This made-for-tv horror movie from the early 80s is a doozy. A mentally handicapped man is mistakenly blamed for the death of a child, hunted down by some bloodthirsty good 'ol boys, and killed. But things don't rest there--one by one, the hunters become the hunted. Dark Night of the Scarecrow isn't the most intense or brutal horror movie you'll ever see, but it possesses a kind of native "sweatiness" that gives it a lurid, "I kinda can't believe this was on television" feel that is worth the price of admission. That said, don't go into this expecting a lot of actual scarecrow action--that's thin on the ground. However, you can expect plenty of murderous farming equipment!
In October, I watched a Hammer horror I hadn't seen before: Demons of the Mind. You know you're in for something different from Hammer when the first ten minutes pass without any dialog. Something's rotten on the local nobleman's estate: between the daughter who runs away and then hooks up with a medical student and the son who may be murdering nubiles in the forest, it's a real family affair. Throw in a tragic backstory or two, a "doctor" operating on the fringes of mesmerism, a clearly insane hellfire priest, psychosexual menace around every corner, a mob of angry peasants, a folk horror rite and, well, you've got a heady mix going on.
A prequel to the horror movie Veronica, which I also enjoyed, Sister Death is about a young novice who has come to a convent with a dark history and tragic past. There's nothing really showy or pulse-pounding about Sister Death; it's more a slow-burn than anything else, but it is beautifully filmed and feels like one of the few Catholic horror movies that's actually about Catholicism. I'd probably opt to watch Veronica first before watching Sister Death, but I think this film might be the stronger of the two, so do what you want--I'm not the boss of you.
A group of German crusaders, their native guides, and a papal knight flee from their pagan enemies after a calamitous rout. The land itself--swampy, choking, mystifying--is an implacable enemy, to say nothing of the brutal pagans who want to take their heads as trophies. As the group traverses hostile territory, Our Lady of Holy Slaughter becomes something of a folk horror story, calling into question the violent proselytizing efforts of the Christians and the brutal old ways of pagan faith. Also, in one of those instances of synchronicity, I read this after reading Vernon Lee's "Prince Alberic and the Snake Lady." I got more snake lady here too!
Elizabeth Dearnley, Haunted Yorkshire
You pretty much can't go wrong with any of the volumes in the British Library's Tales of the Weird series, but I have an especial love for Yorkshire and thus had an especially good time reading this collection of poetry and fiction inspired by the strangeness of the north. Of particular note to me were L. T. C. Rolt's "The Garside Fell Disaster" (a story very much descended from Charles Dickens's "The Signal-Man"), the editor's own "Maiden in the Moor" (one of the few "found footage"-style stories that works), and Lettice Galbraith's "The Trainer's Ghost" (a horse-centric ghost story that prefigures M. R. James in a lot of ways).
Marama is absolutely amazing. It has to be one of the most traditionally Gothic movies in years, but it also does some very interesting post-colonial things as well. And you are simply not going to find a movie with as much "woman carrying a lantern through a dark house" per minute as Marama because this is the story of a half-Maori woman invited to a remote house in Yorkshire to learn what happened to her family. (Yes, Yorkshire again! Also, we've got haka on deck!) Marama is a beautifully filmed Gothic horror movie with stellar performances all around; it's one of the few movies where I've thought "I wouldn't mind this being just a little bit longer, actually." If you liked Guillermo del Toro's Crimson Peak, you'll probably like this. If you liked Robert Egger's Nosferatu, same.
I'm including both of these books together because I read them both on the same day and because I'd recommend them for the same reason: they're both short, but suitably spooky, novellas likely to appeal to the same reader. Fitcher's Bird is the story of three sisters with a dark past; two of them have been abducted by a serial killer, the eldest is next on the murderer's list. If you're familiar with Slatter's work from her Sourdough series, you may not be ready for the brutality of this one. Gemma Amor's The Folly, on the other hand, is a story about a woman and her ex-con father becoming caretakers of a remote seaside tower in Cornwall, where they encounter a man who speaks with the protagonist's dead mother's voice. The Folly is a short read that is exquisitely uncanny and rich with Gothic atmosphere.
One new thing that I've begun to look forward to every October is seeing which movies will be re-released on the big screen for the season. This year we were lucky enough to get both Guillermo del Toro's Pan's Labyrinth and Ken Russell's The Devils. Both were restored versions that looked absolutely stunning. They are, of course, two very different flavors, with Pan's Labyrinth being a dark fairytale about fascism and The Devils being a blasphemous and thoroughly psychosexual drama about religious zealotry, though they share the same sort of sentiments about authoritarian power grabs.
Severin's Danza Macabra series returns with another set of rare Spanish Gothic films! Strange Voyage is indeed a weird little trip of a movie. It's at once a murder mystery and a black comedy about a crazed spinster who domineers her weak-minded siblings...and there's murder afoot. Exorcism's Daughter plays out like a sadistic shocker; shades of The Devils and the whole women in prison genre here. The Dracula Saga features a family of vampires who only want to keep their bloodline flowing freely into the future. Finally, the Spanish version of Turn of the Screw plays it remarkably straight, even if it does substitute a male lead for the usual governess role. This one does a lot with the psychosexual menace between the children and their caretaker--it isn't explicit, but it's pretty damn unnerving. I was told that The Dracula Saga would be the hit of the collection, and while I enjoyed it immensely, I really have to commend Turn of the Screw for being such a powerful adaptation of the Henry James story.
Sara Hinkley's The Red Sacrament feels like a love letter to Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, except it's much more exquisitely written. Of course, "vampires running a theater" will be a familiar premise, but the historical details, especially those concerning the theatrical world of nineteenth-century Paris, are especially jewel-like. The Red Sacrament also isn't afraid to get a little sick with it, and the ending will grab you by the throat and surprise you. The plot is a little baggy, but it's not really a "plot novel": this is one you read for the gorgeous atmosphere and brooding, doomed vampire romance.
In Clay McLeod Chapman's What Kind of Mother, a down on her luck palm reader rekindles something with a high school boyfriend who is the local tragedy: his wife killed herself and their baby son went missing five years prior. He's never stopped searching for his child, and now wants the protagonist to use her dubious psychic powers to help find the boy. Of course, this is something they will regret meddling with.
One thing I have to give Chapman credit for is the way he has his characters react to the unreality of their situation. A lot of horror writers don't really emphasize how freaked out the characters are, just having then carry on, but his characters are pretty fucking tilted by all this. Their shit is unglued. What Kind of Mother is a really good meat 'n' potatoes horror novel, the likes of which seem rarer and rarer these days.
I don't think there is a single lackluster album in the entire Wolves in the Throne Room discography, but I wasn't prepared for how awesome Estuary would be. There's a reason why Wolves in the Throne Room is largely regarded as the best black metal band to come from the US; all the classic elements are there, but they aren't afraid to chart their own course. Estuary has a bit of a doom influence on it, to my ears, and that's a very welcome addition to their sound--which is already pretty varied for a black metal record.
I hadn't heard of it before, but when Haunted popped up as a movie I could watch on Tubi I decided to give it a try. It had the kind of Gothic premise I tend to enjoy: a skeptic about the possibility of the supernatural accepts an invite to the home of an elderly woman who feels that her crumbling manor is haunted, but what he encounters is her small horde of strange and off-putting younger relatives. In practice, this is one of the brightest (in terms of being well lit) Gothic haunted house yarns I've ever encountered. Haunted won't be for everyone, but I thought Aidan Quinn and Kate Beckinsale's compelling performances carried this one.
Michael McDowell never disappoints, but even so I really enjoyed this extremely weird horror novel from the mass market paperback era. An extended Southern family takes a trip to their isolated houses on the gulf in Alabama after the death of a familial matriarch, but something unwholesome stirs in the third abandoned house. The real draw of this novel is the characterization; McDowell sketches such different voices with very small details, but each of them has a distinct presence for such a short book. If you're new to McDowell, I think The Elementals is actually a great place to start--it's succinct, unnerving, and has all his usual verve for storytelling.
I haven't really had the chance to travel much over the last few years, but when the possibility of seeing Rasputina (one of my favorite bands) within a reasonable drive (a concept that diminishes a little every year), I pulled the trigger and bought tickets. It's funny; I put no research into the venue ahead of time so imagine my surprise rolling up at Tempo the night of to discover that Rasputina was playing in an old church, complete with pipe organ backdrop and stained glass windows intact. Rasputina was wonderful, and they played many of my favorite songs, so this was a nice way to end a kinda tough month.