Jarod K. Anderson's Blog

Check out these kind reviews from a few pretty amazing writers.
I can't wait to share my new novel with you!


“I cannot express how much this book scratched an itch I didn’t know I had. The deep wonder and curiosity about nature coupled with the terror of our own insignificance strummed a familiar chord within me, and reading about these singular creatures and Green’s journey confronting them inspired a childlike glee of discovery. I envy everyone who gets to read Strange Animals for the first time. I’ll be reading it again and again to revisit that happiness and winkle out every morsel of wisdom breathed by the sage characters within.”—Kevin Hearne, New York Times bestselling author of Candle & Crow and the Iron Druid Chronicles

“A wildly inventive, fantastically fun story about a man who goes to find himself and finds so, so much more. I absolutely loved it from the first page.”—Peter Clines, New York Times bestselling author of Paradox Bound and God’s Junk Drawer

"Anderson has conceived of such a rich world, and such a textured mythology, I can't remember a time when cryptids felt more ... real." —Justin McElroy, New York Times bestselling author and podcaster

Guess who wrote a cozy, creepy, woodsy, contemporary fantasy novel about finding family, making meaning, and learning to see a beautiful, strange, and hidden side of nature?

It’s me. I did.

Keep an eye out for Strange Animals, coming this February from Ballantine Books!

The idea for Something in the Woods Loves You arose after I began posting regularly about my struggles with chronic major depression. I shared scraps of poetry describing the ways my mental and emotional pain shift when I walk beneath the trees. I offered metaphors that helped me manage the shame and silence surrounding mental illness. Often, I thought of such posts as, “notes to self,” reminders of strategies that work for me so that I could have them close at hand when my own mind and memory became untrustworthy on the hard days. The more I stepped into the light and openly discussed my pain, the more connection and validation I found among a community of folks with similar interests and challenges. More and more, my inbox began to fill with messages about mental health and kind words of thanks for my honest, vulnerable posts. I spoke with fellow sufferers who wanted to “talk shop.” There were parents, siblings, and spouses reaching out to ask me what they could do to help a loved one grappling with depression. There were people who simply wanted to connect in order to feel less alone in their battle with a disease that so often pushes us toward isolation. I wanted to spend days chatting with each of them, sharing my experiences, my victories and setbacks. I wanted to walk with them beneath the trees and talk about what I had learned. I began to think of this imaged conversation as, “the long talk.” I wanted to have “the long talk” with these strangers. Eventually, I began to understand that I also wanted to have “the long talk” with myself, to map out my own journey with mental illness and the healing I found in nature so I could truly understand where I had been and what I had learned along the way. These were the motivations behind Something in the Woods Loves You. I needed to articulate what I knew, both for myself and others. I felt the woods were medicinal, but if I was to turn that feeling into medicine for others, aid I could share, I needed to coax my feelings into words. Moreover, the nature of my depression means that my own memory is not always a reliable keeper of important lessons and milestones. So, I’ve learned to lean on writing as a potent magic to prevent mental illness from weathering away the positive signposts of my emotional landscape. I was initially drawn to the project of writing this book as a service to others, but I quickly realized that it was also an act of care for myself. Yes, Something in the Woods Loves You is “the long talk” I want to have with anyone interested in mental health, but it is also an artifact of identity that I believe will be a compass to me in the years to come, pointing me toward kindness and toward the wild places and creatures I love. There is magic and medicine in giving ourselves permission to love what we love (and let it love us back). The love in this book is rooted in the plants and animals of the Ohio woodlands I roam. Sharing that love is part of my healing process and, I hope, a small light of solidarity in the dark for others struggling with mental illness.