My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix (Quirk Books, April 2016)

If you’ve ever watched Pretty in Pink and thought to yourself, “this could use a little more blood and guts,” then oh, boy do I have a book for you.

My Best Friend’s Exorcism opens, as many teen movies do, on a friendship between two girls, our protagonist (Abby) and her BFF (Gretchen). The year is 1987. About to start their senior year of high school, the girls spend a night at a cabin on the lake, planning to drink, gossip, and take their first acid trip. At first, the girls are disappointed when the drug doesn’t work… but days later, when Gretchen starts acting strangely, it becomes clear that a bad trip could be the least of their worries. Gretchen starts seeing things, acting moody, and disappearing for days on end. Abby is convinced that Gretchen is being possessed by the devil, but who will believe her? Can she save their friendship—and Gretchen’s life?

This book fits into so many genres it’s almost impossible to categorize it, and yet it does every category justice. In some parts, it’s campy and overdramatic. In others, it’s grotesque and terrifying. It’s full of feel-good friendship moments that will make you say, “awww!” and nauseating horror sequences that will make you say, “nope!” The best part? The prose is smooth enough to entice any lit. fic. lover. Sometimes, with horror, it can feel like you’re sacrificing good writing for thrills and chills, but not with Hendrix. In the words of Liz Lemon, “I can have it all!”

Don’t believe me? Read this passage without getting goosebumps. (For context, Abby is visiting the sickbed of her friend Margaret, who she believes has been poisoned by Demon!Gretchen. The reality, she soon learns, is much, much worse.)

“. . . Abby saw something pale and white squirming in the blackness of Margaret’s gullet, curling around her tonsils.

Abby leaned forward for a better look, and the thing inside moved. She jerked back, smacking into Riley, who’d crept closer to investigate. The thing kept coming, oozing up out of Margaret’s throat, rising to the surface. Tears were spilling down Margaret’s sallow cheeks and her throat and chest kept spasming; her bony hands scratched and clawed uselessly at the tight skin on her neck. But the thing kept slithering out.

It slid over the root of Margaret’s tongue, ad then Margaret gave three explosive, throat-clearing coughs, each one pushing it out farther. It was sticky, gelatinous, and alive—a blind white worm, thick as a garden hose, and it was hauling itself out of Margaret’s stomach with single-minded intent.”

SPOILER ALERT: Gretchen hadn’t just been poisoning Margaret. She’d been feeding her TAPEWORM LARVAE until there were TWENTY-THREE POUNDS OF SQUIRMING WORMS in Margaret’s stomach. That’s some next-level demon sh**.

What’s miraculous, however, is how Hendrix manages to switch between the macabre and the hilarious without it seeming jarring or poorly-paced. After realizing that Gretchen isn’t just suffering from run-of-the-mill teenage depression, Abby searches out an exorcist. His name is Chris Lemon, and he’s part of a traveling Christian theatre troupe called the “Lemon Brothers Faith and Fitness Show.” They’re a hunky, bronzed, jock-brained, 6-pack-having group of bros spreading the good word of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. It’s exactly as campy as you would expect from a guy whose first book was about a haunted Ikea.

All horror and giggles aside, what I loved most about this book was that, in the end, what saved the day wasn’t religion or romance but the power of friendship between two teenage girls. There is no swoon-worthy love interest in this book (something that’s almost never seen in young adult fiction). It passes the Bechdel Test on page 4. Despite what the bright colors and cheesy ’80s song lyrics at the top of every chapter may suggest, the book doesn’t sugar-coat friendship by portraying it as something infallible or chaste. It frequently draws attention to the ways in which friendship can be flawed or skewed by power dynamics, especially during high school. At the same time, portraying the lowest lows of female friendship also allows Hendrix to showcase their highest highs without it seeming contrived or preachy. This book is a reminder that love stories don’t always have to be romantic. It’s beautiful, and heartbreaking, and an ode to anyone who has ever had a Best Friend Forever.

Basically, go read My Best Friend’s Exorcism. You’ll have the time of your life.

What books have you found lately that cross some surprising genres?