If the secret hallway in Uncle Earl’s museum and the willows-and-bunkers realm hooked you, you’ll fall for the children at Eleanor West’s school—each returned from their own uncanny door. In Every Heart a Doorway, Nancy comes back from a deathly underworld and, much like Kara, must navigate the cost of crossing over while a grisly mystery unspools. It blends wonder, menace, and the aching longing to go back through the door.

Loved Kara and Simon cracking jokes to keep terror at bay—right up through the “Pray they are hungry” dread? Meddling Kids hits that same nerve. A grown-up former teen sleuth gang reunites in a small town to confront the Lovecraftian truth behind their last case. The quips are sharp, the monsters are real, and the nostalgia curdles into cosmic terror in the best way.

If being stuck with Simon in concrete bunkers and endless willows made your pulse spike, The Luminous Dead doubles down on that intimate intensity. One caver, Gyre, and one voice in her ear descend into a lethal cave system where the map lies and the air itself is suspect. Like Kara and Simon improvising their way out, it’s all survival smarts, fraying trust, and the creeping sense that something is down there with you.

If Kara’s candid, funny narration carried you through the worst of the willows, you’ll click with Mouse in The Twisted Ones. Cleaning out her hoarder grandmother’s house, she finds a disturbing journal and stumbles into an older, wrong-angled world. The voice is warm and sardonic, the folklore is razor-edged, and the dread escalates with that same Kingfisher knack for making you laugh right before you gasp.

If the concrete halls, scattered journals, and impossible geography of the willows-world fascinated you, Piranesi offers a gentler but equally uncanny labyrinth—vast tides, endless statues, and a narrator who meticulously documents it all. It’s the same shimmering strangeness: a place that feels like a puzzle, a prayer, and a trap, where meaning emerges from fragments.