For Chicago novelist Cynthia Pelayo, horror movies are therapy. “It’s just a way to process anxiety,” she says. “You see the scary thing, but the scary thing can’t hurt you.”
Actually writing those scary tales surely qualifies as therapy, too. A nearly lifelong resident of the Hermosa and Logan Square area (she moved here from Puerto Rico at age 2), Pelayo has carved a reputation as a genre-mixing author. Her stories tend to blend familiar fantasy tropes with elements of mystery, horror, and local history. While pursuing an MFA in writing from the School of the Art Institute Chicago, her thesis was Loteria, a short-story collection she would later self-publish. It won a place on Esquire’s list of the best horror books of 2023. She’s also won the Bram Stoker Award for her poetry and the International Latino Book Award for Best Mystery for 2021’s Children of Chicago.
Her latest crazy-quilt of a novel — Vanishing Daughters, released this week — is spun from multiple threads. In this elegiac tale about living through grief, Pelayo draws on the centuries-old fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty and the decades-old ghost story of Resurrection Mary. Its protagonist, Briar Rose Thorne, is a Chicago journalist living in a big Jackson Park house, which she inherited from her recently deceased mother. The matriarch’s dying words, “Keys and gates and locks and thorns,” are part of the mystery, as is a serial killer on the loose.
Vanishing is the first book Pelayo wrote since her beloved father died two years ago. The writing process — specifically crafting a character dealing with a profound loss — helped lift her out of the miasma of her own grief.
Her book-release party will be held March 11 at City Lit Books in Logan Square. That’s just the start of a big year for Pelayo: Two of her earlier novels, The Shoemaker’s Magician and Children of Chicago, along with Loteria, will be re-released by Hachette Book Group later in 2025.
What kinds of stories did you enjoy when you were a kid, and how did you branch beyond fairy tales and fantasy into murder mysteries and horror?
I gravitated to horror because of my older brother. When I was 6, he was babysitting me, and there was Freddy Krueger on the television screen, with his arms extended. I remember screaming and my brother calling me over, saying, “No no, it’s fine, it’s safe. It’s just a movie.” And I was hooked. My dad and I would stay up late and watch Alfred Hitchcock Presents and Tales from the Darkside. I was watching Hellraiser by the age of 9.
Like many children, I was exposed a lot to fairy tales growing up. I really latched onto them. I had a big book of Grimms’ Fairy Tales. Most of my books came from school libraries. A lot of what I was reading, early on, were classics. When I got a bit older, I was reading a lot of [Charles] Dickens and [Edgar Allen] Poe, and Where the Red Fern Grows — that really stuck with me, how sad that story is. I didn’t start reading horror and mystery till much later.
What authors intrigued you then?
In high school, definitely Poe, definitely [Ray] Bradbury and Shirley Jackson. It wasn’t until later, in college, that I latched onto Agatha Christie. I was like, “Wow, this is phenomenal!” One of my professors at the School of the Art Institute advised me to read Agatha Christie, [Jorge] Luis Borges, and [Samuel] Beckett. They were like, “If you read these people, we think it’ll all come together for you.” When I read Beckett, I was like, “Where have you been my entire life?” The same with Borges. I had that fairy-tale framework, and then here was Christie, who is very logical; Borges, who is very cerebral; and then Beckett, who’s just so absurd. My writing is really informed by all of that.
You approach your novels with a deep passion for Chicago history and local lore. How do you research the elements of a ghost story?
We grow up with these folk tales. Many of us have heard of Resurrection Mary, or of the Jane Addams Hull-House “devil baby.” I think I have taken every Chicago haunted-history tour that you can! Not only are they fun, but they’re filled with a lot of Chicago history. That’s how I learned about the sinking of the S.S. Eastland, when 844 people drowned in Chicago one morning. We had the Iroquois Theatre fire, the largest theater fire in American history. We also had [H.H. Holmes,] America’s first reported serial killer.
So Chicago is a very strange place. We have this fantastic legacy in terms of our architecture and literature and art and invention, but then we also have this very strange history. Through exploring the city, I’ve picked up a collection of fascinating ghost stories, and many of them are based in reality. They just stick with me, and I want to write those stories.
Let’s dig into Vanishing Daughters. The legend of Resurrection Mary plays a big role in this tale. When did you first learn about the hitchhiking ghost haunting Archer Avenue?
Definitely in elementary school. We all knew about it. And in high school, I remember we would drive down Archer Avenue on Halloween night, looking for her.
Among many other themes, the novel grapples with the disorienting experience of deep grief. Do you mind sharing any personal stories about dealing with loss and death, and how those experiences are reflected in your book?
I’ve been to more funerals than I can count — but it wasn’t until my father died two years ago that I felt completely at a loss. My father’s final wish was to die in his house, the house that he purchased in Chicago, which he was very proud of. My mother and my brothers and I, we all came to the agreement that we would do home hospice. It’s a gift to be able to die at home, surrounded by loved ones. And also, watching somebody deteriorate with cancer was a very traumatic experience.
After he died, I was in that fog of grief for over a year. It manifested itself in these very strange ways. I would wake up screaming; I was having auditory and visual hallucinations. I was terrified. I went to my family doctor, who had been my doctor since I was a teenager, and I described everything to him. He held my hand and said, “This is grief, Cynthia. You are experiencing a very intense grief, and I’m very sorry. And all I can tell you is: This is normal, and you have to go through it.”
I’ve been there, supporting loved ones through the hospice process. Afterwards, it feels like you’re sleepwalking through your own life.
It does. I couldn’t leave the house. I was in this state of brain fog; I was so confused. I didn’t consider myself a very spiritual person at that time, but after he died, I just remember saying, “Dad, I need your help. I don’t know what to do.” And Vanishing Daughters came to me.
Thank you for sharing all of that. Now, a crazy swerve: Let’s imagine you wake up one day to discover you’ve been mysteriously transported into a fairy-tale land. What three items would you seek out to help you navigate this world?
Oh, I love this! I just love fairy tales. A mirror, a key, and a magic apple. The mirror could summon help, to ask for a fantastic being to guide me. The key would help me open a door to safety. And of course, in fairy tales, the apples are magic.