A few months ago, I moderated a conversation at the National Book Festival between two horror writers – Stephen Graham Jones and Agustina Bazterrica. Regular readers of this newsletter will recognize Jones as the author of The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, which manages to be both a historical fiction novel and a vampire-revenge tale. Bazterrica is the author of The Unworthy, about a post-apocalyptic coven, and Tender is the Flesh, which is about cannibalism.

There’s a part in our conversation where they get to talking about the line – the point at which you’re writing some gross, horrific scene, where depraved characters are performing disgusting acts, and it verges beyond scary and into gratuitous territory. Or, worse yet, cornball writing. Not being a horror writer, I can imagine it comes down to feel, to experience. Kind of like cooking a dish you’ve made a thousand times – you don’t need a recipe and a teaspoon to tell you how much salt to add, you just… add salt to taste.

Taste is, of course, relative. Both Jones and Bazterrica shared stories of grossing out readers, driving them to tears or worse, but I can’t see myself having that reaction to a horror book? I can’t think of a book I’ve read that disgusted me (as an adult) based on its body count. Which is an interesting counterpoint to film, here are plenty of movies where I’ve had to watch through covered eyes – but I don’t know if reading evokes that same visceral reaction. Does it for you? Is there a book so putrid that you had to put it down? Let us know – one reader’s throwaway pile might make another reader’s recommended reads list – bookoftheday@npr.org.