If what hooked you was John Persons’ skin-crawling shifts between PI patter and something inhuman while a child’s plea pulls him into a reality that’s coming apart, you’ll love how The Library at Mount Char lets Carolyn move through a suburb hiding a godlike library and its feral "students." The way reality kinks—casual miracles, predatory angels, and rules you only glimpse after they break—hits the same sweet spot as Persons stalking that monstrous stepfather through London’s back alleys, where the world keeps showing teeth.

If you dug the case-file spine of Hammers on Bone—a PI following grimy leads from pubs to flats to confront an inhuman masquerade—Miéville’s The City & the City gives you Inspector Borlú chasing a murder that slips between two overlapping cities whose citizens must “unsee” each other. It’s the same noir stride: stakeouts, interrogations, and a revelation that the rules of the street are stranger and more dangerous than the cops—or the monsters—will admit.

If the brutal, rain-slick menace of Persons’ London—where an abusive stepfather might be something worse and violence solves what conscience can’t—worked for you, The Ballad of Black Tom delivers that same flint-edged mood in 1920s New York. Thomas Tester hustles, bleeds, and brushes up against elder things while human malice remains the cruelest blade. It’s street-level cosmic horror with the same knife-in-the-ribs atmosphere.

If Khaw’s baroque metaphors and gore-laced lyricism grabbed you—the way Persons’ first-person voice can be both hardboiled and incandescent—Kiernan’s The Drowning Girl wraps you in Imp’s mesmerizing confession of ghosts, art, and unreliable memory. The sentences bloom and bruise, turning the uncanny into something whispered in your ear, much like those moments when Persons’ narration slips and you glimpse the thing wearing the detective’s skin.

If you enjoyed riding shotgun with a predator in a man’s coat—John Persons cracking jokes as he maims monsters for a kid who hired him to end an abuser—then Sandman Slim will scratch the same itch. James Stark claws his way out of Hell to carve through sorcerers and demons in L.A., narrating with scorched-earth wit and zero illusions about being the good guy. It’s the same vicious charm, more bodies, and plenty of hellmouth swagger.