If you loved how Peter and Helen try to maintain cul-de-sac normalcy while hiding the Abstainer’s Handbook and Rowan and Clara’s cravings, you’ll relish how a Charleston book club faces a charming predator who preys on their neighborhood. Like when Clara’s first taste of blood at that disastrous party blows the Radleys’ cover, the moms’ quiet routines fracture into messy, funny, and horrifying action. It’s the same mix of cul-de-sac manners, sharp humor, and sudden, bloody consequences you enjoyed in The Radleys—just with more casseroles and sharper fangs.

If Uncle Will’s chaotic swagger and the Radleys’ dry, British gallows humor made you laugh even as things got messy, you’ll click with Moore’s irreverent tone. When Clara’s slip-up turns a quiet village life into a darkly comic scramble, it echoes the way Moore’s newly turned Jody and her human boyfriend fumble through rules, bodies, and cover stories. Expect quick banter, bad decisions with teeth, and the same wink-at-the-darkness vibe that made The Radleys so much fun.

If what hooked you was how the Radleys’ drama stays on the street—neighbors, school, the kitchen table—even as blood and secrets spill out, Gaiman’s tale delivers that same intimate magic. Like the Radleys hiding abstinence and calling in Uncle Will when everything unravels, the narrator here returns to a childhood home where a farm at the end of the lane holds the quiet key to terrifying, wonder-filled events. It’s personal, close-quartered, and emotionally resonant in the way the Radley family’s living-room revelations are.

If you liked how The Radleys let you slip between Peter, Helen, Rowan, Clara, and even the disruptive Uncle Will to piece together the family’s past and present, The Quick uses a chorus of voices to unveil Victorian London’s hidden vampire cabals. The way the Radleys’ multiple viewpoints sharpen each twist—like the aftermath of Clara’s attack and the consequences that ripple through the whole clan—finds a kindred narrative energy here, with letters, testimonies, and intersecting lives building a lush, gothic secret history.

Clara’s transformation—from nauseated abstainer to someone who can’t ignore the pull of blood after that night—mirrors Tana’s crisis when she wakes among corpses and must decide whether to lean into or resist the infection. If you were compelled by Clara and Rowan wrestling with what being a Radley really means, you’ll be drawn to Tana’s identity battle, moral lines, and the lure of fame and monstrosity inside the quarantined Coldtowns. It’s the same sharp, heart-in-throat exploration of who you are once the hunger hits.