I have not come around yet on whether “cozy horror” is a coherent and definable new subgenre of horror fiction. “Cozy” is a genre label most commonly applied to mystery, where it refers to mystery novels with limited on-the-page violence, sexual content, or coarse language and that feature an amateur sleuth who is often an older woman and/or works in a very community-oriented profession like a librarian, baker, or small business owner. It stands in contrast to the grittier crime fiction genres like hardboiled noir or police procedurals. A few years ago, “cozy fantasy” burst onto the scene with books like Legends and Lattes, which have secondary-world settings reminiscent of sprawling epic fantasies but plots that deal with smaller, more local stakes and often focus on small communities and interpersonal relationships. More recently, I’ve noticed a parallel subgenre popping up in science fiction, which sets itself in contrast to epic space operas. (For examples, see my reviews of Murder by Memory and Moss’d in Space.) But is there a parallel subgenre of horror? As cozy escapism becomes ever more popular, I’ve seen the term bandied about to refer to a wide range of horror books, from Someone to Build a Nest In to the works of Grady Hendrix and Rachel Harrison. But is there really such a thing as cozy horror or is it a contradiction in terms? Some Kind of Haunted, the latest release from Hazel Beck, certainly sets out to prove the case.
In Some Kind of Haunted, twin siblings Lexi and Logan Darling leave their city life behind and head to the small town of Midas, Iowa, where the grandmother they never knew has bequeathed them her knitting shop. Lexi immediately gets the creeps from the oppressive flood wall that surrounds the town and the spooky clock tower that looms in its center, but she tells herself it’s her overactive imagination—ever since she can remember, Lexi has been plagued by horrible nightmares and a tenuous grip on reality. Luckily her perfectly put-together lawyer brother is always there to get her out of scrapes. But the longer they stay in Midas, it becomes clear that Lexi isn’t crazy—there really is something wrong with this town. And it’s about to get a lot worse. Midas is plagued by demons and once every generation, on a Halloween night, they Feed, feasting on the masses of tourists who flock to this quaint town for its fall festivals. Lexi—with her prophetic visions that aren’t delusions after all—is a harbinger, and her arrival signals that the next Feed is at hand. If Lexi and Logan want to survive the season and maybe even break the curse, they’ll need to team up with the small band of locals who know the truth about the demons and the town’s dark history.
So is this cozy horror? And, if so, what does that mean? Some Kind of Haunted has many of the traits common to other cozy books. The setting is a quirky small town that feels remote from cosmopolitan city life. At the center of the story are two small businesses: a knitting shop and a diner, where characters meet up for Knit and Sips and decadent breakfasts. Fiber arts and comfort food—check! Lexi herself works as a textile designer and has a passionate knowledge of knitting. In the beginning of the novel, she’s constantly noticing the quality of other characters’ knitted clothing and paying close attention to everyone’s projects at their craft nights. However, unlike in Olivia Waite’s Murder by Memory, where the protagonist’s knowledge of knitting leads to an integral clue in solving the murder, the references to knitting drop off once the horror plot of this book really gets started. And the charming town quickly loses its quaintness once you realize it has been deliberately engineered to draw in sacrificial victims. What does stay throughout the novel is its focus on romance and friendship. Over the course of the book, Lexi develops a relationship with Jack, the brooding but noble diner owner who has dedicated his life to figuring out how to break the town’s curse. She also, for the first time in her life, develops close friendships with the other members of their little band who treat her with respect and care when she’s used to being dismissed as crazy.
Indeed, most of the cozy feelings in this book come more from its uplifting messages than the stereotypically “cozy” aesthetics. In addition to the theme of self-acceptance, the novel also puts a positive spin on the classic Gothic trope of the Faustian bargain by emphasizing the role of choice and agency. When others try to tell Lexi that the founding families of Midas were forced to make the demon deal that led to the Feeds in order to ensure their own survival, Lexi maintains that you always have a choice, even in dire situations. And just like the founders chose to enter into the deal, their descendants can choose to break it. Finding friends and a lover who believe in and trust her allows Lexi to trust herself enough to make bold decisions and stick by them even when it’s difficult. And she pities the villains who sacrifice their future agency for power—because what good is power when you’re not really in control of your own actions?
Overall, though I think Some Kind of Haunted was deliberately written with “cozy horror” in mind, I still have not worked up a clear definition of what that means. The book makes a conscious effort to play into the cozy aesthetic and tropes but can’t maintain them alongside the serious character deaths and horrifying depictions of slurping, shadowy demons. You can, however, still create some warm, fuzzy feelings alongside the horror. Some Kind of Haunted is on shelves now, or you can buy it online and support The Gothic Library in the process using this Bookshop.org affiliate link. Let me know what you think of the book—and of cozy horror overall—in the comments!