Home > Reviews > Poetry > Reclaiming Tales of Terror: A Review of David Ly and Daniel Zomparelli’s “Queer Little Nightmares”

Queer Little Nightmares: An Anthology of Monstrous Fiction and Poetry
Edited by David Ly and Daniel Zomparelli
Arsenal Pulp Press, 2022

Review by Sierra Riley

Monsters and ghosts are inseparable from their queer contexts. Werewolves, Medusa, Mr. Hyde and Mothman—these creatures of the night are responsible for transgenerational terror and intrigue alike. Across time and space, historians, scholars and Twitter users have analysed the psycho-social and cultural implications of queer affinity with gothic beings. The academic texts have been written. Daniel Zomparelli and David Ly, editors of Queer Little Nightmares, are now interested in rebuilding a horror canon, one that asks of its writers: “What beasts lie ahead in the hands of queer creators?”

Through a contemporary lens, the anthology reclaims classic tales of terror, summoning several queer-coded creatures from the shadows. These evocative stories play in societal fringes and realms of ambiguity. Here, in this liminal space between dread and desire, readers are reacquainted with familiar icons of myth and folklore. Virginal scream queens are banished, and tropes that have historically demonized non-conforming identities are subverted. The text dissects the heart of Frankenstein’s monster—and there’s familiarity there. 

In her werewolf lesbian love story Wooly Bully, Amber Dawn writes, “There’s this tender emptiness inside me. Like a bruise that doesn’t turn purple. Still, I feel its ache under my skin.” Later: “It’s filth […] is this what’s wrong with me?” 

The distinct, diverse voices of Queer Little Nightmares lend the collection a profound tonal depth. Intimacy and severity can be found in all its dark corners. Holding up “a dark sparkler of your repressed fantasies,” as Justin Ducharme writes in 75, these works surprise and energize the reader. Then, like glitter catching light, there’s a healthy sprinkling of camp. 

Featuring the glam, manicured hand of a swamp monster, the cover design acts as a subliminal promise: this book’s going to be a scream. In beni xiao’s Naga Mark Ruffalo Dream, fear gives way to laughter:

“tell the truth.” i look him dead in the eyes
and say “i am” but it comes out as a sort of moan???
i blush with mortification
and i think that’s when he realizes

i’m not scared, but turned on

These works conjure curiosity, begging to be devoured like candy corn on Halloween night. The ultimate answer to “trick or treat,” it’s a book best read under the sheets after dark, flashlight in hand.

This lineup of salacious inner monsters is showcased with pride—love and desire are no longer shrouded in subtext. As it looks to the future, Queer Little Nightmares is a time capsule that marks a triumphantly spooky moment in history. 


Sierra Riley (she/her) is a queer writer, editor, actor and library enthusiast living on the unceded territories of the Coast Salish peoples. Her work has appeared in SAD Mag, Exile Literary Quarterly, NEXT Magazine and more. On the side, she runs a wildly unpopular stan Twitter account dedicated to Taylor Swift.