Linda Cheng’s "Beautiful Brutal Bodies" Reimagines Folk Horror with Queer, Asian Mythology

If you’ve ever felt like your identity was a curse, a gift, or both, Linda Cheng’s "Beautiful Brutal Bodies" is a book that will sink its teeth into you—and not let go. Released by Roaring Brook Press on November 4, 2025, this standalone companion to "Gorgeous Gruesome Faces" is a lush, eerie reinvention of folk horror that centers queer women and East Asian mythology in a way that feels both timely and timeless .

At its heart, "Beautiful Brutal Bodies" is a story about transformation—physical, emotional, and spiritual. Tian, a famous singer-songwriter with a massive online following, is known for her hypnotic vocals and ethereal looks. But behind the glamorous façade is a disturbing reality: raised in an isolated mansion, Tian is a prisoner in her own life. Her only close companion is Liya, her childhood friend and protector, who hides a beastly secret beneath her beautiful human exterior—her teeth are far too sharp, and her appetite much too ferocious .

When several fans mysteriously suffer fatal injuries while watching Tian’s livestream, she and Liya are sent to a spiritual healing retreat on a remote island in the South China Seas. They’re joined by Shenyu, a troubled idol seeking redemption, but the trio soon discovers that the island is no peaceful getaway. There’s constant surveillance, bizarre rituals, and something terrifying lurking in the forest—something not quite human .

What makes "Beautiful Brutal Bodies" stand out is how Cheng reshapes horror tropes to center queer and Asian experiences. The novel is steeped in East Asian myth, but Cheng twists it into something original and electric. The world is soaked in mystery, where every glance, whisper, and ritual feels like it could lead to ruin. The shapeshifters, secrets, and spine-tingling suspense are not just plot devices—they’re metaphors for the monstrous inheritance that so many queer people carry, whether it’s from family, culture, or society .

The sapphic longing between Tian and Liya is one of the book’s strongest threads. Their bond is laced with tension and unspoken devotion, a relationship that feels both tender and fraught with danger. Cheng doesn’t shy away from the complexities of queer love, especially when it’s intertwined with trauma, duty, and the fear of being seen as monstrous. The romance is not just a subplot—it’s central to the story’s emotional core, a reminder that love can be both a sanctuary and a battlefield .

One of the most powerful aspects of "Beautiful Brutal Bodies" is its exploration of motherhood and generational trauma. The novel delves into the layered mother-daughter dynamics that are so often rooted in Asian families—the expectations, sacrifices, and the painful bond that defines generational ties. Tian’s connection to her mother and the island’s legend feels like a metaphor for inherited trauma, expectations, and the struggle to break free from what binds us .

Cheng gives space to grief, love, resentment, and duty, never flattening the relationship into something simple or predictable. For many LGBTQ+ readers, especially those from Asian backgrounds, this exploration of complex family dynamics will resonate deeply. The book asks: What does it mean to be a daughter, a mother, a protector? How do we honor our legacy without being consumed by it? These questions are not just for the characters—they’re for all of us .

Cheng’s writing is lush and haunting, with a pacing that keeps you breathless. The plot is full of twists that actually land, and the suspense is deeply effective without relying on cheap thrills. The island vibes are genuinely creepy, think "Midsommar"meets folklore horror. Cheng is great at creating tension and atmosphere, and the unsettling aesthetic is a big part of what makes the book so memorable .

The transformation of Liya into a wolf spirit is especially compelling. It feels both like a personal curse and a divine calling, a duality that speaks to the theme of monstrous inheritance. For queer readers, this transformation can be seen as a metaphor for coming into one’s own identity, embracing the parts of ourselves that society might see as monstrous, and finding power in that .

"Beautiful Brutal Bodies" is not just a horror novel—it’s a reinvention of the genre. Cheng’s voice is fierce, poetic, and unforgettable. She blurs the line between myth and reality, good and evil, and never lets the reader settle into easy answers. The story feels original, not a recycled horror tale with a myth slapped on, but a chilling reinvention of fairytale horror that centers queer characters and Asian myth in a powerful, intentional way .

For fans of atmospheric horror, complex female relationships, and queer mythology, this book is a must-read. Cheng’s work is a reminder that horror can be a space for exploring identity, legacy, and the bonds that both bind and liberate us. As one reviewer put it, "Beautiful Brutal Bodies"will sink its teeth into you and not let go .

"Beautiful Brutal Bodies"is a stunning blend of horror, mystery, folklore, and sapphic longing. It’s about transformation—both physical and emotional—and about breaking free from what binds us, whether it’s a cursed legacy, a family’s expectations, or our own monstrous selves. For LGBTQ+ readers, this book is a powerful reminder that our stories are worth telling, our identities are worth celebrating, and our legacies are worth reclaiming.