If Dana and Gren’s reimagining of Grendel and his mother — stalking the edges of Herot’s perfect cul-de-sacs — was what hooked you, you’ll love how Circe also flips a foundational myth. Miller gives the so‑called witch of Aiaia the mic, just as Headley centers Dana over Ben Woolf and the Herot clan. The book lingers in a woman’s exile, power, and rage, and like the scenes where Gren and Dylan forge a secret friendship under the noses of their parents, it draws tenderness out of a tale everyone thought they knew.

If the way the mountain over Herot and the train tunnels turned everyday suburbia into a hunting ground — a place where Gren could be both boy and "monster" — thrilled you, The Changeling will hit the same nerve. LaValle follows Apollo Kagwa through New York’s libraries, parks, and shadowy islands after a shattering act, blending parenting fears with urban folklore the way Headley blends HOA meetings with ancient terror. It’s the same feeling you had when Willa’s immaculate house met Dana’s feral wilderness and the old story bled into the new.

If you loved how The Mere Wife moved between Dana, Willa, Ben Woolf, and the chorus of local mothers — letting the Herot enclave indict itself — Home Fire uses a similar prism. Shamsie recasts Antigone through siblings Aneeka and Isma, the charismatic Eamonn, and a powerful father, so every choice lands with the moral complexity you felt when Dylan and Gren’s private world collided with the adults’ brutal one. It’s that same inexorable tragedy seen from all angles, tightening with each voice.

If Headley’s language — the incantatory choruses, the lush, feral descriptions of the mountain and the spotless menace of Herot Hall — is what stayed with you, The Tiger’s Wife will cast a similar spell. Obreht threads war-haunted Balkan landscapes with folktales, the way The Mere Wife threads combat trauma into Dana’s every decision. The result is that same dreamlike drift where fable and memory make the real world feel stranger — and sharper.

If what gripped you was how the “monster” in The Mere Wife isn’t Gren so much as the gated dream of Herot — Willa’s polished fortress and the violence used to protect it — Oyeyemi’s haunted Dover house will feel chillingly familiar. In White Is for Witching, the home itself speaks, consuming those it deems outsiders, much like Herot’s polite faces turn predatory when Dana and Gren cross the line. It’s a gothic where the architecture carries the prejudice, and the terror is the community.