I have been shoving a couple books down people’s throats in 2025, each one after I read it. One of them I’m about to introduce to you, and I can confidently say introduce because it’s not a widely known or distributed book (or author). But it should be. And he should be. At least for the kind of readers I encounter in my usual urban, Triangle orbit. Drumroll please. Let me introduce you to Children of Solitude by Michael G. Williams.

Blurb: Reginald Voth wakes next to last night’s hookup with the bloodied ghost of his mother standing over him. Which is the perfect way to start his journey home to deal with her funeral and also her house—the ancestral house that he has been avoiding (along with his mother) for decades. Surprise! There’s a cul de sac of new homes on the front lawn, full of interesting characters and—oh, his mother would roll over in her grave if she would just stay in it—Reginald’s favorite adult performer. What begins as ominous reaches back into the past, his past, and his fragile new, found family, threatening horrifying destruction.

Let’s begin at the beginning (of my story here).

Last spooky season (2024) I attended a reading studded with horror stars. One of the slated authors was ill and the bookshop called in a pinch hitter—a local horror (and sci-fi) author who leads local horror writing and reading groups and has a fairly successful podcast about cryptids. This guy proceeded to pull something he was working on up on his phone and read to us, promptly showing up the known pros around him. In other words, we laughed, we hung on his every word, and when they were all done it was Micheal G. Williams’ book that my husband and I were waiting for when it dropped this past summer (2025). In the meantime, my husband started listening to the podcast and we had done some research. (See Williams’ website HERE.) But we were busy.

Don’t mind the cover.

There is something about the cover that reflects the classic “cosmic” horror (which I have been calling haunted house horror), but chances are you’re going to balk at it anyhow. Gold Dust Publishing is an indie hybrid publisher that focuses solely on LGBTQ+ stories told by LGBTQ+ authors. Unfortunately, Children of Solitude deserves better than the packaging or the marketing they could give Williams. But maybe Williams wanted to go this route? The cringe doesn’t stop at the cover. The formatting inside is, well, amateur. It screams self-published (even though, yes, self-published can be done really well and this isn’t exactly self-published). Specifically, the header is so close to the text that I kept accidentally getting snagged on it when I’d turn the page. Maybe it will appeal to you to read something so grassroots? Discover a title or author none of your friends will have heard about? I admit that I especially enjoy promoting books (and other things) like this.

After that, it is all uphill. Into the Appalachian forest with scraped knees while a specter is chasing you.
I don’t know that there is a ton to say about the book. If you like classic horror, or metaphors for growing up queer, and found family, or eminently readable fiction, full stop. If you appreciate humor with your jump scares. If you likewise appreciate warmth at the center of your scary stories. If you are happy with great dialogue, well-drawn characters, and a pretty straight-forward plot with some real trope-y moments… yeah, just read the book. Maybe don’t expect it to be the sun and the moon, but if it fits into your type of reading then you are going to have fun, and chances are you’re going to be surprised and then recommend it to someone else. Or many someone elses.

Buy it now. Stick it on the shelf for next spooky season. Maybe you won’t be able to wait till then.
I am currently ordering more Williams to try. My husband loves time travel, so that’s where we’ll be starting, with A Fall in Autumn.

“The home of a dead person is a corpse in its own right, and the body of Dorothea Voth’s home was still warm to the touch” (p27).

“At this point, what I do with thoughts about her is on me, not her. Let it go” (p30).

“We all have to compromise, she’d said to Harvey when he was young, and make little bargains with ourselves to get by. Don’t spend your whole life feeling bad about it. Enjoy what you can instead” (p174).

“There was a limit to how long good manners remained charming. Eventually, they turned into unresolved tension” (p185).