Unhinged women, questionable decisions, and deeply uncomfortable plots. Is the stranger the book, the better?
Somewhere along the way, we collectively decided that we were done reading about women who make good decisions. At least, that’s what my side of the internet seems to suggest.
Forget the relatable protagonist with a stable job, a healthy relationship, and a five-step skincare routine (sometimes). The women taking over my reading list in 2026 are obsessive, manipulative, morally questionable, and occasionally doing things that are quite literally disgusting. And personally? I can’t get enough.
Welcome to the era of weird girl lit.
So, what exactly is weird girl lit?
The term isn’t necessarily new. Authors like Ottessa Moshfegh, Mona Awad, Rachel Yoder, and Miranda July have been writing about unconventional women for years. Think My Year of Rest and Relaxation, Bunny, Nightbitch, and All Fours. But in 2026, the genre seems to have found a particularly enthusiastic audience.
Weird girl lit isn’t exactly a genre in the traditional sense. It’s more of an internet-created category encompassing literary fiction, satire, psychological thrillers, speculative fiction, and sometimes body horror.
What connects these stories is their willingness to explore the uglier, stranger, and less socially acceptable aspects of womanhood.
The protagonists aren’t always people you’d want to have dinner with. (Or would you?) Sometimes they’re terrible friends, worse partners, and occasionally just terrible people. They make questionable choices, have deeply uncomfortable thoughts, and rarely seem interested in becoming better versions of themselves.
Which, if you ask me, makes for excellent literature.
Is weird girl lit having a moment?
While weird girl lit is nothing new, I can’t remember the last time so many of the books being talked about in my corner of the internet fell into this category.
And it’s not just my algorithm. Earlier this year, Forbes published an entire reading list dedicated to weird girl lit, while Caro Claire Burke’s Yesteryear became a number-one New York Times bestseller.
What I find particularly interesting is that these aren’t necessarily easy books to recommend. Half the time, explaining the plot out loud makes you sound slightly insane. And yet, that’s part of the appeal.
We’ve become so used to seeing the same handful of tropes, predictable character arcs, and familiar plots that there’s something exciting about picking up a book and genuinely having no idea where it’s going.
Did she commit murder? Will she eat the raw chicken? Is she dreaming, or is she having a psychotic break?
Who knows? Read and find out.
Which brings me to some of my favorite reads of the year. Four books that are completely different from one another but have one thing in common: I couldn’t possibly explain their plots without getting a few concerned looks.
Four books that made me if I need therapy (answer, probably)
- Fruit Fly by Josh Silver
Mallory is a once-successful novelist suffering from a serious case of writer’s block. When she meets Leo, a young gay man struggling with addiction, she sees the perfect opportunity to revive her career. By using his life as material for her next book, obviously.
What starts as an unlikely relationship quickly turns into something far more disturbing. Fruit Fly is a deliciously uncomfortable satire about privilege, exploitation, and the publishing industry. It’s the kind of book where you spend half your time wondering how someone could be so selfish and the other half desperately wanting to know what happens next.
And apparently, I’m not the only one obsessed. A24 has already optioned it for a television adaptation.
- A Good Person by Kirsten King
Lillian is in a situationship. Except, according to her, it’s obviously much more serious than that. So when Henry breaks things off, she does what any perfectly reasonable woman would do: puts a hex on him.
Then he turns up dead.
Naturally, Lillian is convinced she’s the victim in all of this. She’s also determined to prove she’s a good person, despite making increasingly questionable decisions that suggest otherwise.
This book is so painfully embarrassing at times that I genuinely wanted to look away. Think Fleabag meets Gone Girl, except you spend most of the book wondering whether the narrator has ever experienced a single moment of self-awareness.
Pro tip: Listen to the audiobook!
- Carrying by Samantha Josephs
Martha is the perfect wife, stepmother, and homemaker. She has a loving husband, a beautiful home, and everything under control. Except her entire life is built around a secret: she’s a trans woman, and nobody in her family knows.
She’s even gone as far as faking pregnancies and miscarriages to keep up appearances. But when a mysterious illness begins transforming her body, she discovers she’s somehow actually pregnant.
Yes, you read that correctly.
Part body horror, part dark comedy, Carrying is easily one of the strangest premises I’ve encountered this year. Between the disturbing bodily transformations, increasingly bizarre cravings, and Martha’s determination to maintain her picture-perfect life, this book takes the pressure to be the perfect woman to a completely different level.
- Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke
Natalie Heller Mills is a tradwife influencer with millions of followers, a beautiful ranch, an adoring husband, and a seemingly perfect family. Her entire brand revolves around romanticizing traditional domestic life.
Until one morning, she wakes up in 1855.
No electricity, no modern conveniences, and absolutely no Instagram. Suddenly, the lifestyle she’s built an entire career promoting isn’t looking so appealing.
Yesteryear is a brilliantly absurd satire about influencer culture, motherhood, religion, and the performance of perfection. Natalie is judgmental, hypocritical, and almost impossible to defend, which is precisely what makes her so fascinating. And the less you know going into this book, the better.
All these books, their ratings, and the conversations surrounding them beg the question: Is the weirder the book, the better?
I’m not saying every book needs a morally questionable woman, an identity crisis, or a plot that sounds like a fever dream. I still love a good romance and the occasional happily-ever-after.
But there’s something to be said about finishing a book and immediately needing to discuss it with someone. Not necessarily because you loved everything about it, but because you need another person to confirm that you both just read the same thing.
So, is 2026 the year of weird girl lit? I don’t know. But if this is where fiction is heading, I’m very much on board.
By: Michelle Entebi
