The most recommended books about spirit possession

I’ve spent much of my adult life searching for media that gives me the same feeling as sitting down to my favourite Halloween movies as a kid. The gorgeous, autumnal crunch of Hocus Pocus, the spooky-but-not-scary atmosphere of Tim Burton’s 90’s offerings, the magic and adventure of Willow and The Dark Crystal. It was a big, specific ask, and yet I found it so perfectly in Frances Hardinge. 

My favourite of her books (so far) is A Skinful of Shadows. A twisting, turning, spooky adventure about a girl harboring the spirit of an abused circus bear who must save herself, her doofus brother, and said bear from being hollowed out and used as hosts by their horde of ghoulish ancestors. It’s cozy, clever, spectral perfection.

The brand of possession is fairly standard: a Drakhaoul possesses a man, enabling him to transform into a dragon—but the man must replenish his strength vampirically.

I like the interplay of personal responsibility and victimization, the use of supernatural powers to protect one’s friends at the cost of innocent suffering.

The Drakhaoul has a name and personality; it’s definitely a discrete being, but it’s also a part of the hero. But then the hero successfully exorcises his demon. But the demon’s memories are left behind, and the hero starts to wonder if he’s going mad.

The demon’s absence, not its presence, drives the hero to madness and despair (even though he hates the demon). The hero simultaneously hates and longs for a dark power, which is and is not uniquely his.

I’ve read countless books set in New York City or its boroughs, and I’m going to confess that sometimes they can feel a little generic. Not A Girl's Guide to Love and Magic.

The plot in this book is driven by Cicely’s quest to save her aunt through a scavenger hunt of sorts that is all tied into the excitement and action of the West Indian Parade on Labor Day in Flatbush, Brooklyn.

I also love how while this is technically a young adult book (Cicely is a sophomore in high school), it can be a great read for most older middle-grade readers, especially those who want to read up.

This book features a sort of contest between “real-world” and “fantasy-world” accounts of the hero’s behavior.

Some warriors experience “the Thrill” when they fight: battle is invigorating (because it gets your blood, oxygen, and adrenaline flowing); this is the stuff of modern psychology or biology.

No, wait, the Thrill is basically a supernatural being. Naturally: Sanderson’s world incorporates creatures who appear when various strong emotions are in play. But his handling of psychology is realistic in other respects, so that explanation makes sense, too….

But why does the Thrill affect the hero more than others?  Maybe he’s just a bloodthirsty barbarian. No, wait, he has a special relationship with the supernatural creature. But doesn’t that mean they’re kindred spirits, and maybe the hero is a bloodthirsty barbarian?

Stephenie Meyer is underrated. This gripping book is about an invasion by alien parasites who insert themselves in people’s brains and take over their lives.

The premise sounds pulpy, but it quickly becomes the most fascinating exploration of whether our identities reside in our minds or our bodies and of the heart in conflict with itself.

Meyer’s ability to keep flipping the plot and wringing further emotional complications out of the premise is astounding. 

There are two scenarios in which I will set a book down after reading only the first page: either the prose is so atrociously bad that I fear neuronal loss if I read any further, or the prose is so incandescent that I fear irreparable damage to my self-confidence as a writer. James’s prose made me consider giving up writing and transitioning to, I don’t know, goat farming.

None but the Righteous follows a boy named Ham, who is possessed by the spirit of the saint whose relic he carries around in a pendant. After Hurricane Katrina, he must try to find his way back to his adoptive home of New Orleans despite complicated feelings about the woman who took him in as a child. 

Part climate fiction and part mystical tract, this book is hypnotically, hauntingly beautiful.

The Bloodwrath is basically Berserkergang, not possession, right? It affects badgers almost exclusively. What a bummer to be a badger and bear a burden that no one else has!

But it’s a bit more like possession in this book. Lady Cregga has the Bloodwrath more strongly than anyone has ever observed before; her personality seems to reflect this, as she’s impatient, brusque, and aggressive (even for a badger). She’s wounded and loses her sight, and the Bloodwrath goes away.

Even though her personality appears to be tied up with her madness, the Bloodwrath must be something external, since it can leave her without destroying her. Is it an inborn quality or an effect brought about by her personal choices, an appetite that can be satiated, or something else?

Growing up in Rhode Island, I can't tell you how many times I told someone where I was from, and they would respond with, "Oh, Long Island, New York." Ugh.

Naturally, a haunted house story set in Long Island caught my eye. I can honestly say this book gave me nightmares. Oddly enough, I'm not easily sucked into supernatural thrillers because they often require too big of a leap of faith. The Amityville Horror was different.

My sisters and I all read the book and regularly tried to scare the crap out of each other with scenes from the story. We had a planter shaped like a pig and would carry it into a room, screaming, "Jodie is here!" The book is terrifying and well done.

Blatty’s classic novel is recommendable as much for its cultural impact, which is of course inextricably bound up with its legendary film adaptation, as for its own content. With the story of young Regan, a 12-year-old girl in the modern technological world who becomes possessed by an ancient demon, Blatty, a committed Roman Catholic, deliberately set out to communicate a vivid sense of supernatural evil to a modern, skeptical, jaded audience. Many people don’t realize that The Exorcist is actually a Christian novel. As Blatty himself later put it, if he could get people to believe, even fictionally/emotionally, in demons, they would also know what it feels like to live in a universe where God and angels are real. The result, regardless of your religious beliefs, is unforgettable.

You’re soon going to notice that I like clever variations on a common theme.

This book is a really fun mishmash of possible ways for possession to happen: a person can be possessed by a friendly ghost, a malevolent demon—or both at once! The heroine travels back in time (unusual for fantasy) and possesses the ghost when she was still alive. Two good guys can occupy the same body without surrendering their autonomy; but one can also take over when the other’s strength fails.

I also like the interweaving of the protagonist’s adventures in both the past and the present with chapters from a thousand-year-old journal. The temporal complexity works well with the way the characters fold into each other.