2.5 stars

Lisowski is trans and has gone through debilitating physical, mental and family issues, (seriously, she has been through the wringer) including a stay in a psych ward. Throughout she says she has looked to horror films to keep her grounded and to help her maintain her sense of self.

In each chapter/essay the author discusses or at least mentions specific movies that connect her to various points in her life, but this is all very personal to her, versus any sort of overall examination of these movies and what she believes they mean in any sort of larger context. At the beginning of the book she notes, “for those of us who live in power’s periphery - trans disabled, non-white, poor - love happens under violence’s shadow,” so perhaps she is directing the observations in the book at these audiences and I don’t fall into any of those categories.

This is SUCH a great title, and the synopsis sounded great, but I found reading the book a bit of a slog. Often the movies are mentioned only briefly, or in passing, which left me wondering why the author used the trope at all, and didn’t just go with straight up memoir; I wanted more of a connection with the movies and it really wasn’t to be found here. I did like this: “The thing about growing up in the rural South is that’s it’s so easy to fantasize about living anywhere else.” I just moved to the CITY South, but, preach, sister!

At 27, Lisowski found solace in horror movies during a challenging period in a psychiatric ward. Rather than evoking fear, these films provided her with comfort and a lens through which to examine her own experiences. In this collection, she delves into analyses of films like "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre" and "Saint Maud," connecting their narratives to broader societal issues such as illness, disability, and the complexities of trans identities. Lisowski's essays traverse her journey from a transgender childhood in the South to the vibrant dance floors of Brooklyn, highlighting the intersections of personal history and cinematic storytelling.

In summary, "Uncanny Valley Girls" is a thought-provoking exploration of horror films as a medium for understanding and articulating personal and collective struggles. Lisowski's unique perspective is likely to resonate with readers interested in the intersections of film, identity, and survival.

”This is a story of loss, and this is also a story of love. In both, the horrors are ceaseless. In fact, it’s all the same story. The horrors are how I found myself.”

In Uncanny Valley Girls, Lisowski examines her own complex life story through the lens of horror film; critiquing cult favorites and exploring themes of illness and disability, otherness, gender and trans narratives, violence, class, and more. She journeys through her Southern trans childhood, constantly visiting doctors because of her unexplained seizures and illness, to her inpatient psychiatric stay, detailing all of the beauty and love and loss and cruelty in-between, arguing that horror—real or filmic—is about survival in the face of pain, about learning to live and love despite the wounds. What I particularly loved about this collection of essays was Lisowski’s clearly depicted complicated relationship with being raised in the South. As a born and raised Southerner myself, I could relate on a very personal level and often times found myself nodding along while reading. It’s a true love-hate relationship. ”The South, for better or for worse, was my home.”

This book gives readers a wide-ranging memoirs-in-essays, written with intent, grace, and a keen eye for detail. Lisowski never misses a beat. Loved this so much and will undoubtedly buy the finished copy on pub day.

🎬 Watchlist for Uncanny Valley Girls:
The Ring
Pet Sematary
Black Swan
Dark Water
Ringu
Scream
Final Destination 3
Saw
Sleepaway Camp
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original)
Lizzie
The Wolf Man
Ginger Snaps
Saint Maud
Antichrist

🎞️ Honorable Mentions:
Jaws
The Sixth Sense
I Know What You Did Last Summer
Dawn of the Dead
Creepshow
Maniac
Friday the 13th
Longlegs

Immense gratitude to Harper Perennial for the early copy in exchange for an honest review. Available Oct 07 2025. *Quotes are pulled from an advanced reader copy and are subject to change prior to publication*

(3.5 rounded up) I tend to love both personal essay collections and nonfiction or fiction centered around horror movies, so this falls right in my wheelhouse. Zefyr Lisowski writes about her childhood and coming of age, her relationships to her parents, her transition, her romantic relationships and her own relationship to her body in extremely raw, unflinching honesty. She relates these parts of herself and her life to the horror movies she’s grown up with, including (but not limited to) : The Ring, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Scream, Sleepaway Camp and Saint Maud. The collection is both personal essay and theory, with Lisowski delving into disappointing, problematic aspects of these films, while also exploring why it is she finds herself drawn to this genre. It feels wrong to be critical of writing when it’s so personal and details life experiences that I can’t personally speak to, and it really does feel like the author puts so much of herself into her writing, which I find admirable. Certain essays hit harder for me, as is the case with all essay collections. I did occasionally find myself lost to what the author is trying to say - the writing sometimes feels esoteric and hard to follow. The writing is beautiful, but I did occasionally find it overwrought and tough to connect with. But this is absolutely worth reading if you like examinations of horror movies and personal narratives.

As a horror film lover, the premise of this book lured me in. Lisowski uses cult horror films and artists as a lens to unpack her life experience so far. Her prose was devastating and trigger warnings abound. However, for those who can read about such topics I highly recommend this book. My one critique is that some of the essays felt redundant in theme and referenced many of the same events. Although dark and reflective, Uncanny Valley Girls makes for an ultimately hopeful reading experience.

This work stands first and foremost as an immersive and arresting memoir of othering. The book explores not only the experience of being continually othered, but what it means to occupy an ever-shifting emotional landscape with those others. One of Lisowski's brightest threads here is the idea of community as both catalyst and salve for pain. To be harmed by those who "should" be trustworthy in one's community is a life-altering betrayal, but harm is compounded by retreat and isolation. For Lisowski, the potential for love, joy, and healing rests in the construction of communities of fellow "others" who care for and challenge us in equal measure.

I think the role of critical theory in the work has been greatly overstated. However, I would still recommend it for any readers interested in thinking more deeply about horror as a genre, and as a means of imaginatively locating and identifying oneself in the world. I think it would pair particularly well as a non-fiction companion to Steven Graham Jones's "Indian Lake" trilogy.