bipoc | Diversity in Horror Fiction

The Mine by Arnab Ray

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Westland (Indian publisher now owned by Amazon)

Genre: Blood & Guts (Gorn), Psychological Horror, Occult

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: South Asian/Desi/Indian, Disabled character (uses a wheelchair due to partial paralysis, mute/Aphonia)

Takes Place in: Thar Desert, Rajasthan, India

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Illness, Gaslighting, Gore, Kidnapping, Medical Torture/Abuse, Medical Procedures, Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Stalking, Suicide, Torture, Violence, Xenophobia

Blurb

At a secret mining facility somewhere in the deserts of Rajasthan, an ancient place of worship, with disturbing carvings on its dome, is discovered buried deep inside the earth. Soon the miners find themselves in the grip of terrifying waking nightmares. One tries to mutilate himself. Worse follows.

Five experts are called in to investigate these strange occurrences. Sucked into a nightmare deep underground, they embark on a perilous journey; a journey that will change them forever, bringing them face-to-face with the most shattering truth of them all…

The greatest evil lies deep inside.

Imagine combining Event Horizon with Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None then mixing in the criminally underrated film Below. Set it in a mine deep below the Great Indian Desert and you’ll get an idea of what you’re in for in Arnab Ray’s horrifying, claustrophobic, sex-filled gore-fest of a novel about five adults and one little girl trapped underground with their guilt.

The Mine starts out with Samar, a rich recluse specializing in industrial security, wallowing in his grief after the disappearance of his daughter and the death of his wife. Yeah, Samar has shit luck. A mysterious man named Arnold Paul (whose name I kept reading as Arnold Palmer) finally bribes convinces Samar to drag his depressed butt out of bed by offering him a large sum of money to go with him and do a sketchy job, the details of which Paul/Palmer won’t reveal. Samar is apparently used to this sort of thing due to his work as a security expert/spy for secret government ops, and figures he wasn’t doing anything important anyway (except moping and sleeping) so he begrudgingly accepts the offer and heads off for the titular mine. As it turns out, greed is a great motivator because Mr. Paul/Palmer has also convinced four other experts to go to the middle of nowhere with a complete stranger, no questions asked.

Joining Samar are Dr. Karan Singh Rathore, a diplomatic and laid back older gentleman who specializes in infectious diseases; Dr. Anjali Menon, a widowed archeologist who brought her disabled daughter, Anya, along; Dr. Akshay More, an arrogant and obnoxious assistant professor in forensic toxicology; and Dr. Preeti Singh, a short-tempered psychologist with a surprising lack of people skills. The group has been brought together to give their expert opinion on a series of deadly accidents that seem to have been caused by the discovery of an ancient, creepy temple the miners are too afraid to go near. A temple that also happens to be covered in explicit carvings of naked women being tortured and killed, because whomever created the damn thing is sexist and gross. If that wasn’t ominous enough, the director of the mine is named Lilith Adams. While it’s fully possible her parents were just uncreative goths from the early 00’s, it’s far more likely that Ms. Adams just picked the most obvious evil pseudonym since Alucard and Lou C. Pher.

At this point, most people would’ve noped the fuck out of there, but Samar and the scientists have clearly never seen a horror movie in their lives and are too wrapped up in their own issues to notice the whole situation has more red flags than a May Day parade in Moscow. The mine could not be more obviously evil if it had “Gateway to Hell” in big florescent lights over the entrance, ominous music playing in the background, and a bunch of demons chilling in the conference room. Then again, these are people who willingly followed a creepy stranger into the middle of nowhere to visit his sketchy underground dungeon (literally, the workers are all criminals and aren’t allowed to leave until their contracts are up) because Paul/Palmer promised them candy/money. Little kids have more street smarts than this group, so I shouldn’t be surprised they’re completely oblivious to danger.

Illustration of a blood-spattered van bearing the name FREE CANDY and a South Asian man thinking

I mean, even I figured out the candy van was a trap after the first 9 or 10 times.

Akshay and Anjali explore the torture-porn temple and discover it depicts ironic punishments attributed to specific sins. Meanwhile, Karan and Preeti talk to the survivors, who share stories that would make Rob Zombie squeamish. Akshay makes light of the situation and acts like a jackass, Anjali does her best to ignore everyone and just do her job, Karan remains calm and reasonable, and Preeti is hostile and short-tempered. Samar checks the security and continues to have no fucks to give beyond a kind of creepy obsession with Anya, who reminds him of his dead daughter. The general consensus among the workers is that they’ve somehow opened a portal to hell and everyone in the mine is going to die horribly as a result of their dark pasts. Needless to say, company morale isn’t great. At this point, everyone finally agrees this place is super creepy and they want to collect their paychecks and GTFO. Alas, in a twist that should come as a surprise to exactly no one, Lilith turns out to be evil, and sets off an explosion that kills all the mine workers and traps the six survivors (Samar, the scientists, and Anjali’s daughter) inside while she laughs manically about the mine’s real resource being fear. Worst. Job. Ever.

Illustration of laughing woman surrounded by a man and woman. The man says

Her name is Lilith, what did you guys expect?

The explosions cause the security systems to engage, sealing the group inside with a series of death traps. Because why wouldn’t you want death traps in an already dangerous mine? On top of everything, an experimental gas that causes super human strength and insanity is being pumped through the A/C, which frankly, feels like overkill to me, but hey, they can run their portal to hell however they want. After their initial panic, presumably followed by the realization that they really should have seen all of this coming, the survivors formulate a plan to navigate the traps and make it to the surface. They’re slightly hindered by the fact they have to trust each other and work together to make it out, and most of them are deceitful, suspicious, assholes, not to mention all the stupid puzzle traps that were apparently inspired by 80s video games. One such puzzle involves trying to obtain acid vials while avoiding motion activated laser and an electrified floor, and if you succeed you’ll be rewarded with a chainsaw, which may be useful later. Unfortunately in this “game” their are no save points or extra lives.

What follows is about what you’d expect for a book about trying to escape from a possibly haunted mine with a bunch of jerks, but the predictability doesn’t make the story any less suspenseful or gripping. But face it, if you’re reading this book, you’re looking for creative deaths, not creative storytellin, and boy, does Ray deliver there. Besides, the true mystery doesn’t lie in their Aeneas-like journey through the mine, but in each character’s backstory, all of which are slowly revealed as they try to escape the subterranean deathtrap. Each of the adults has done something criminal and escaped punishment, and have been struggling with their guilt ever since. The quality of the backstories varies, with some characters (like Akshay and Preeti) getting plenty of focus, while Anjali gets very little characterization beyond “the aloof mom”. So too do their sins seem to be of differing severity. Some of the survivors have committed crimes so awful as to make them irredeemable, while others are more sympathetic and their sins, while still terrible, are still at least partly understandable. This disparity seems a little unfair as it means at least some of the group will potentially suffer a gruesome death (at least according to the carvings in the temple) over something that would normally earn them less than 15 years in prison (at least in the US, not sure about the Indian judicial system). It’s not that their crimes aren’t bad, they just don’t seem to merit a sentence of being reduced to a puddle of bloody viscera.

We never really learn if the mine is truly being controlled by a demonic entity or if the group’s guilt and paranoia (fueled by the hallucinogenic gas) is causing them to attribute bad luck to malicious forces and see things that aren’t there. Samar even suggests that the whole thing is an unethical experiment by the government to test their new gas on subjects no one will miss, as there are far too many coincidences for mere random chance, and the temple may be a fake created to amp up their fear levels. Since none of the characters are able to trust their own senses, making them unreliable narrators, arguments could be made for either scenario, making the story even more spooky and disturbing. Monsters are scary, but they’re even scarier when you can’t even tell if they’re real or simply the imaginary scapegoats of guilt-ridden, paranoid people. Even more frightening, Ray argues, are the depths of human cruelty and depravity, which are explored in each character’s backstory. Though that may just be an excuse to squeeze more gore out of the story.

The Mine does an excellent job balancing itself between psychological horror and splatterpunk. The true scares lie in the book’s creepy atmosphere, suspense, and the characters slowly succumbing to madness; the over-the-top gore is simply dessert. Unfortunately, this otherwise perfect blend of horror comes with as huge helping of misogyny. Yuck. Look, I’m fully willing to admit I’m part of the lowest common denominator who just wants to see heads exploding like overripe cherries and attractive people boning, but that doesn’t mean I like sexism. Unfortunately, more often than not, the three seem to go hand in hand, much to the frustration of female horror fans, and other, more enlightened individuals who just happen to like hot sex and lots of blood. Ray isn’t as bad some other authors out there, the violence is pretty evenly split between the genders and there aren’t any scenes of knife-wielding killers chasing half naked women. He even manages to handle the subject of sexual assault fairly well, choosing to focus more on the problematic culture of victim-blaming and men who feel entitled to women’s bodies rather than the rape itself. But he struggles with creating believable female characters, defining them by their relationships with men, and them victimizing them. Both of the female scientists have backstories that involve abuse and mistreatment at the hands of men, and instead of being written as strong, survivors, they both come off as bitter, man-haters. Apparently Ray subscribes to the theory that in order to be “strong” a woman must act rude, aloof, aggressive, and despise an entire gender, with the exception of that one special man who tames her with his magical penis. Which is why both Anjali and Pretti act like complete jerks, with Pretti especially flying off the handle at every perceived slight (she must be a great psychologist), and basically being awful to everyone except, ironically, Akshay whom she latches onto almost immediately (despite the fact that he’s literally just the worst). Despite all her bluster, Pretti still falls quickly into the role of helpless victim in need of a man’s protection at the first sign of danger. It’s really embarrassing. I guess she can’t help it because she’s an emotional female with a hysterical uterus or some such nonsense. The women in the story are all described as being gorgeous, but only one male character is described as being very attractive, the wholly unlikable Akshay, and that’s only because his appearance is supposed to reinforce how vain and materialistic he is. Many of the women are also incredibly horny, even minor characters, like Tanya the gold-digging nurse, and Ray paradoxically has no problem slut-shaming them for it (apparently enjoying sex is sinful enough to get you murdered by the mine), even though he later demonizes other characters for doing the same thing. Maybe the mine is just super slut shame-y. The unearthed temple certainly implies that someone behind the scenes hates women.

The women in the story seem less like real people and more like a weird combination of straw-feminists and male masturbatory material, with Ray putting way too much emphasis on their appearance, sex drives, and relationships with men. Then of course we have Anya, who, while thankfully not a sex object, is still treated as an object nonetheless. She barely gets any characterization, and doesn’t communicate even through sign language or writing, she’s just a blank slate for Samar to project his weird daughter obsession onto. It’s doubly problematic since Samar seems to use Anya’s disability as an excuse to treat her like a life-sized doll he can love, protect, and turn into his replacement daughter. Because she’s mute he assumes she has nothing to say, and because she doesn’t walk he thinks she’s completely helpless. We don’t even get to learn what she’s thinking, or how she feels about Samar treating her as some sort of second chance, because, unlike the other characters who all get their turn in the spotlight of the limited, third-person narrative, Anya is completely ignored. At least she gets a little bit of a role later on (which I won’t spoil). Miraculously, Lilith Adams is the only female character who is neither a victim, nor a sex fantasy, and is described only as being terrifying, intense, and very much in charge, much like her namesake.

A man kneels in front of a woman in a wheelchair. The man says

This definitely feels like a stranger danger situation.

So the female characters are about as well written as you’d expect from a male author who doesn’t know how women work, and the whole “helpless, sick wheelchair girl” trope is super problematic. It’s not the worst treatment of women I’ve seen in splatterpunk, but I’d still prefer to enjoy my blood and guts without the side of sexism. I mean, I don’t think it’s an unreasonable request. The writing is still pretty good, and it’s definitely the scariest book I’ve read so far this year. The Mine is also one of only a few Indian horror novels I’ve been able to find in English. Whether that’s enough to overshadow the book’s problem areas, however, is up to the individual reader.

Tags: Adult, Asian, BIPOC, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Disability, Eldritch, Indian, Occult, Own Voices, Physical Disability, Psychological Horror, Recommended, South Asian, Speech Disorder

Ten by Gretchen McNeil

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Harper Collins

Genre: Mystery, Psychological Horror, Killer/Slasher

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: African American character, Japanese American character, Asian American character, Samoan character, Bipolar character

Takes Place in: Seattle, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Sexist Language, Abelist Language, Racist Language, Sexism, Mental Illness, Drug Use, Violence, Death

Blurb

SHHHH!
Don’t spread the word!
Three-day weekend. Party at White Rock House on Henry Island.
You do NOT want to miss it.

It was supposed to be the weekend of their lives—an exclusive house party on Henry Island. Best friends Meg and Minnie each have their reasons for being there (which involve T.J., the school’s most eligible bachelor) and look forward to three glorious days of boys, booze and fun-filled luxury.

But what they expect is definitely not what they get, and what starts out as fun turns dark and twisted after the discovery of a DVD with a sinister message: Vengeance is mine.

Suddenly people are dying, and with a storm raging, the teens are cut off from the outside world. No electricity, no phones, no internet, and a ferry that isn’t scheduled to return for two days. As the deaths become more violent and the teens turn on each other, can Meg find the killer before more people die? Or is the killer closer to her than she could ever imagine?

Ten is inspired by Agatha Christie’s bestselling mystery thriller, And Then There Were None, a tale of ten strangers with dark secrets trapped on an island with a killer who terminates them in ironic ways and publicly marks the deaths one by one. McNeil takes Christie’s original concept, sets it in modern times, changes the terrible, unlikeable adults into a bunch of terrible, unlikeable teens, does away with racism, xenophobia, and anti-Semitism, and replaces it with a diverse cast.

Like the original Christie novel, Ten starts off with ten (get it!?!) people gathering on a remote island under false pretenses only to discover that it was all a trick by the killer, who has kindly left them a Ringu-esque DVD (a gramophone record in the original) to inform the victims of their inevitable demises and remind them how shitty they all are (in case you started feeling bad for any of them). At first, no one believes the sketchy murder announcement is legit, at least until they start dropping like flies, and then all hell breaks loose. Both books involve distrust, everyone accusing each other, the fear of knowing there’s a wolf (or possibly wolves) hiding among the sheep, and of course, a party with a body count. Why do so many parties in these kind of stories end up with a bunch of dead guests? Does the Red Death just go around gate crashing every party in the horror genre? Why does every gathering of three or more people that involves alcohol inevitably end in someone’s demise? Being an introverted nerd who would rather gnaw off my own hand than attend most social gatherings, I honestly have no idea what happens at parties, so I’m just going to assume that it’s pretty standard for them to end in either mass murder or demon summoning (and now I wish I went to more parties).

I’m walking with a red-headed friend who cheerfully asks “So, you’re coming to my party tonight, right? Everyone is going to be there!” Apprehensive, I respond “Oh uh…” then plunge a knife into my stomach. Holding my wound and trying to smile through the pain, I respond to my shocked friend “I can’t make it because I have to go to the ER and get stiches, heh.” Irritated, she asks “Wait, were you just carrying that knife around the whole time?” Bleeding profusely, I mutter “Oh God, I think I nicked my liver.”

A liver laceration is a small price to pay to avoid social interaction.

Last, but not least, is the diversity, which pretty much only applies to Ten since Agatha Christie was a racist asshole, so it’s pretty obvious who the winner is here, but let’s go over it anyway. Ten features a fairly diverse cast, with about half the characters being POC, in addition to a character with a fairly realistic depiction of bipolar disorder. Of course, most of the characters don’t get enough of a chance to develop anything close to a personality before they get offed, so they’re all pretty one-dimensional characters. There’s also a “rebellious” East-Asian girl with a rebellious blue streak in her hair, so Ten isn’t completely free of stereotypes either. But at least the diversity is there, even if it sometimes leans more towards “early 90’s kid show” diversity.

A drawing of the members of the “Burger King Kid’s Club”, a multi-ethnic group of fictional children from the 90’s. Their names are written next to them. In the front row are the dog, J.D., and a white boy in a wheel chair named “Wheels.” The second row (from left to right) shows a butch red-headed girl in sports-wear named Boomer, a femme blonde girl named “Snaps”, and a short, white boy named I/Q. The back row depicts JaWs, a black kid, a Hispanic boy named Lingo, and another white boy named “Kid Vid”.

I can just imagine Wheels being like “My name is Jordan, you insensitive, ableist jerks.” Well, at least it’s better than JaWs, his names looks like a typo. Why do none of these children have normal names?! Is their mom Gwyneth Paltrow? And how come the white kids get to be in the front?

So how does the re-imagining stand up to the original classic? In terms of writing, McNeil is a decent-ish author, but there’s just no competing with Agatha “The Queen of Crime” Christie. I mean, Agatha is the world’s best-selling mystery writer (that’s not an exaggeration, she’s actually in the Guinness Book of World Records), while Ten contains the line “The whole thing had been a perfect storm of not awesome.” So yeah…any comparison between the two would be downright unfair. However, it seems like McNeil realizes this, and isn’t trying to outdo her inspiration. Plot-wise, both books have a good mystery, although the original is unbelievably difficult to solve, and requires an extensive epilogue to explain what the hell just happened because the clues are so vague. Even knowing who the killer was on subsequent readings of And Then There Were None, I couldn’t pick up on any hints as to their identity. In fact, I’m not entirely convinced Christie didn’t just randomly pull the ending out of her ass at the last minute, but whatever, at least I couldn’t guess the culprit after a few chapters. Meanwhile Ten gives the reader enough clues to figure out the ending without being super obvious. That is, unless you’ve already read And Then There Were None in which case you’re probably going figure out the killer (or killers) almost instantly. So yeaaaaaaah, sorry about that. The scary parts of Ten are done well, but the rest of the story (especially the beginning) feel forced. All the dialogue is generic teen bickering and cookie cutter conversations about crushes, school, and beer and it only exists as a quick set up before the murder spree starts.

While Christie’s novel is a psychological thriller that focuses heavily on the characters, McNeil’s work leans more towards the classic horror genre, specifically the teenage slasher/cabin in the woods kind. The characters in both stories are awful human beings, which works fine for And Then There Were None, where they’re at least complex and interesting, and we’re more interested in solving the mystery than anyone surviving. The closest thing we have to a primary cast in Christie’s book are Vera the governess, Philip Lombard the solider, Armstrong the doctor, and Blore the private investigator. And it’s still really ambiguous if any of them are the killer until the end. Christie switches the point of view frequently, so her reader becomes just familiar enough with each character to get a basic understanding of their personality, but not so much as to clue them in to the killer’s identity. In Ten we’re given a clear and likeable protagonist to root for, the shy Meg, along with her best friend, Minnie, and their shared love interest, T.J. (ugh, love triangles). This lends itself better to a slasher story where we need at least one character whose safety we fear for, and then a bunch of cannon fodder characters to satisfy the reader’s bloodlust. (Let’s face it, if you’re reading a book like this you’re looking for a body count.) The rest of the cast is one dimensional and just needs to hurry up and die. However, this does add a wrinkle to the whole revenge thing, you can’t very well root for a main character that did something terrible, so we know the killer/killers are either overreacting or there’s been a terrible misunderstanding. It also means we can rule out Meg as the killer (and assume it’s probably not Minnie either), but there are still enough potential killers left over to fuel plenty of paranoia.

Having most of the characters know each other in Ten adds an extra layer of creepiness because no one wants to believe their friend is a murderer, and the killer is quite literally backstabbing people who trusted them. In Christie’s setup, you don’t really care who gets the ax (literally and figuratively) because everyone is awful. Lombard’s an arrogant chauvinist who left a bunch of natives to die because he barely saw them as people, Blore is an overconfident idiot who falsifies evidence, and Dr. Armstrong is a spineless alcoholic who cares more about recognition and his reputation than the patient he killed while he was drunk. The only character who is sort of sympathetic is General MacArthur, and that’s only because his victim was a world class jerk who slept with the guy’s wife, and MacArthur feels genuinely remorseful about sending him on a death mission. And that’s not even including the minor characters and all the reasons they suck. The mystery and the identity of the killer are really the only things that matter in And Then There Were None (okay, and maybe whether or not Vera survives, she’s slightly more likable than her companions), which makes it a captivating read, but not particularly scary.

Because Ten is aimed at teens, McNeil threw in a completely unnecessary love triangle (as is apparently required for any book in Y/A section) because apparently a murder spree wasn’t dramatic enough. To her credit, McNeil makes the clichéd romance slightly less terrible by actually giving Meg a legitimate reason for not wanting to upset Minnie by going after their mutual crush. Minnie suffers from bipolar disorder, and even though she’s finally getting treatment, she’s still prone to making bad decisions while manic, including turning into someone Meg didn’t recognize and lashing out when she found out her best friend was also interested in T.J. Because she’s been friends with Minnie for so long, and the mental illness is a more recent development, Meg still hasn’t quite figured out a balance between an overprotective enabler and a supportive friend when Minnie is having a depressive or manic episode. Because Minnie is still in serious denial about her Bipolar Disorder and tends to minimize the severity of her symptoms Meg also feels responsible for her best friend’s wellbeing and acts like a mother hen. It also doesn’t help that Minnie’s dad has asked Meg to “take care of his daughter” and placed an unfair burden on her unqualified shoulders. As a result, the two girls have developed a toxic, codependent relationship with Meg treating Minnie like she’s some sort of fragile doll who will shatter at the slightest hardship. Honestly their dysfunctional relationship was about 100 times more interesting than their stupid crush on T.J.

It’s still about five hundred times better than the Christie’s original novel (not that that’s saying much), which, by the way, wasn’t originally called And Then There Were None. The actual title of the novel was considered too racist for American publication, 25 years prior to the Civil Rights Act. That’s right, a country where racial segregation was totally legal was like “Whoa, Agatha, that title’s pretty offensive, don’t you think?” So she can’t even use the “oh well, attitudes were different back then” excuse, (which is a bad excuse anyway) because it was still considered fucking offensive at the time it was published. Mark Twain’s used racial slurs in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to make a point about the evils and ugliness of slavery, but the racism, anti-Semitism, and xenophobia in And Then There Were None have literally no reason to be there. Christie, like Lovecraft (who I complain about in detail here), is one of those writers whose obvious talent is often marred by her bigotry, which sucks because her work is otherwise really enjoyable. Of course, that’s like saying “This ice cream sundae is pretty enjoyable, except there’s a dead rat in it.” I mean, you could probably eat around it, but the experience is still going to be severely tainted by a rodent carcass.

A beautiful ice-cream sundae with strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla scoops of ice-cream, fresh sliced strawberries, three different sauce toppings, and bits of nuts and sprinkles sits in a glass dish. Lying on the ice-cream, drizzled with fudge sauce, and topped with whipped cream and a cherry, is a dead rat. The rat is lying on its back, with its little pink feet in the air, its tongue hanging out, and little red “X’s” over its eyes.

I mean, I’d probably still eat it… but I have problems.

These days, there are editions of Christie’s book that have been edited to varying degrees to make the work less jarringly racist (and before anyone starts screaming about censorship, the original, unedited version is still in print too, so you’re free to read whichever version you want), but it’s still super uncomfortable. Even in the edited versions that aren’t dropping the N-word every few pages, the ugly attitude still hangs heavy in the air throughout the story, and it’s difficult to immerse yourself in the mystery with that hanging over you. Plus, none of the anti-Semitism was edited out in the audiobook version I listened to, so I still got to “enjoy” hearing that in the first chapter. Fun! Of course, how many problematic elements you’re willing to put up with before the book becomes irredeemable depends on the individual. I liked… aspects of Christie’s book well enough, but I can understand if someone has zero desire subject themselves to 272 pages (or in my case 6 hours) of bigotry.

So, which book is better? Ten preserves some of the spirit of the original story, but does away with the blatant racism, although it leans more towards slasher horror than suspense. But And Then There Were None is considered a classic for a reason. The quality of the writing is obvious, Christie does an excellent job building the suspense, and the characters are unique and interesting (you could probably write an entire English paper on each of them). Ten isn’t a bad book, but it’s never going to be a literary classic. So, which would I recommend? Well, it really depends what you’re looking for: a fun horror story, or a classic murder mystery (and whether or not you want to deal with Christie’s racism). From a literary perspective, yes, And Then There Were None is the better work (no surprise there). But in terms of straight horror? You’ll probably get a lot more scares from reading Ten. You could always read both, like I did, just make sure to read McNeil’s book first to avoid spoilers.

Tags: African American, Asian, Asian American, BIPOC, Black, Book Review, Disability, Killer/Slasher, Mental Illness, Mystery, Pacific Islander, Psychological Horror, Recommended, Young Adult

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Tor

Genre: Eldritch, Monster, Historic Horror, Occult, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature, Y/A

Diversity: Black characters (African American and Caribbean)

Takes Place in: Harlem, New York City, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Bullying, Death, Gore, Mental Illness, Medical Procedures, Oppression, Physical Abuse, Police Harassment, Racism, Torture, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Xenophobia

Blurb

People move to New York looking for magic and nothing will convince them it isn’t there.

Charles Thomas Tester hustles to put food on the table, keep the roof over his father’s head, from Harlem to Flushing Meadows to Red Hook. He knows what magic a suit can cast, the invisibility a guitar case can provide, and the curse written on his skin that attracts the eye of wealthy white folks and their cops. But when he delivers an occult tome to a reclusive sorceress in the heart of Queens, Tom opens a door to a deeper realm of magic, and earns the attention of things best left sleeping.

A storm that might swallow the world is building in Brooklyn. Will Black Tom live to see it break?

Oh Lovecraft, you were such a great horror writer, but an absolutely terrible human being.

When it comes to Lovecraft, I have some very complicated opinions. I adore the Cthulhu mythos, cosmic horror, and the concept of forbidden knowledge that utterly destroys your sanity, but it’s hard to enjoy his writing when he liberally peppers it with his hatred for anyone who isn’t a WASP. One minute I’m reading an enjoyable little story about a cosmic abomination and the dark secrets humanity was never meant to know, and the next it’s morphed into some sort of eugenics bullshit. Here’s a small sampling of just some of the bullshit he pulls in his stories: In the Case Of Charles Dexter Ward Lovecraft describes a woman as having “a very repulsive cast of countenance, probably due to a mixture of negro blood,” in Herbert West: Reaminator the black boxer, Buck Robinson, is compared to an ape, in The Rats in the Walls there’s a black cat named N****r Man, The Horror at Red Hook is basically just Lovecraft rambling about how much he hates immigrants and black people who he refers to as a “contagion” with “primitive half-ape savagery”, and in Medusa’s Coil he describes slavery as “a civilization and social order now sadly extinct”. Oh, and let’s not forget that poem. There’s a good reason why Lovecraft’s bust is no longer used for the World Fantasy Award trophy, the guy was a dick.

A drawing of Nnedi Okorafor wearing a dark blue dress, large red and gold earrings, and holding her World Fantasy Award, a bust of H.P. Lovecraft. Okorafor looks uncomfortable while she says “Um, Thanks, I guess? Yeah, I don’t really want this racist’s head on my mantle.”

I tried to draw Nnedi Okorafor, “tried” being the operative word. She says I got it right from the shoulders up though!

Now, before anyone uses the “Lovecraft was just a product of his time” excuse, please consider this: Yes, his active years as a writer were during the incredibly racist segregation era, but not everyone shared his shitty beliefs about people of color and Jews. Mary White Ovington, Moorfield Storey, and William English Walling were all white, but they were also supporters of civil rights and racial equality during the same period, and even helped found the NAACP with W. E. B. Du Bois. So it’s not like every white person in the 1920s and 1930s was racist. Lovecraft would’ve at least been aware of civil rights due to Guinn v. United States, a landmark case that found racist literacy tests unconstitutional, the National Negro Business League which helped to double the number of black owned businesses, and prominent black lawyer Charles Hamilton Houston, who was fighting for civil rights in court. Hell, even his friends and family criticized the horror writer’s ignorant attitude. Lovecraft’s wife, Sonia Greene, and friend Samuel Loveman were both horrified by Lovecraft’s anti-Semitism and resented him for it. Sonia even wrote, “Whenever we found ourselves in the racially mixed crowds which characterize New York, Howard would become livid with rage… He seemed almost to lose his mind.” When Lovecraft attacked Charles D. Isaacson‘s, article on racial tolerance, In a Minor Key, in his own article titled In a Major Key (where he praised the KKK as “that noble but much maligned of Southerners who saved half our country from destruction”) he managed to piss off not just Isaacson, but his own friend James Ferdinand Morton, both of whom wrote responses attacking Lovecraft’s racism. He knew people thought he was racist, as he’d been called out multiple times and even his wife had pleaded with him to reconsider his beliefs- Lovecraft just chose to be an intolerant jerk.

There are two books. On the left is a book with a red cover written by H.P. Lovecraft. It’s titled “The Horror at Red Hook, or Why Immigrants and Minorities Ruin Everything.” On the right is a green, leather bound book with an image of a brass octopus on the cover. The title, written in gold lettering, is “Lovecraft’s Letters: About How Anyone Who Isn’t Anglo-Saxon Sucks, and Why Eugenics are Super Awesome”.

Probably real Lovecraft titles.

Luckily for us, many talented creators have taken concepts in Lovecraft’s writing and used it to create their own works, so fans can still enjoy Yog-Sothoth, the Deep Ones, and the horrors of forbidden knowledge driving men to madness- without all the bigotry. The Ballad of Black Tom is one of these works, a retelling of Lovecraft’s incredibly racist The Horror at Red Hook from the point of view of a black man living in Harlem.

For those not familiar with Lovecraft’s original short story, The Horror at Red Hook follows police detective Thomas Malone and his pursuit of forbidden knowledge in the immigrant neighborhood of Red Hook, Brooklyn, or as Lovecraft describes it “a maze of hybrid squalor”. Because the only religions in Lovecraft’s world are either good, Anglo-Saxon Christianity or evil, bad, demon worship, all the brown people are apparently involved with the occult. Malone is put on a case involving the wealthy and eccentric recluse, Robert Suydam because his relatives want the old man declared mentally unfit so they can have his money. During the course of the investigation Malone discovers that Suydam has been spending time with illegal immigrants and foreigners, which obviously means he’s doing something super evil, like sacrificing white babies to tentacle-faced monsters, because Lovecraft is racist and Malone is an awful detective. Suydam continues to do suspicious things, in Malone’s opinion anyway, like lose weight, work on his personal grooming, and get married. Eventually the whole thing cumulates in a police raid in Redhook, where Malone finds a bunch of creepy shit in Suydam’s basement flat which causes the police detective to lose his sanity points and pass out from sheer terror. Afterwards we discover that the buildings collapsed, killing almost everyone except Malone, who is left with PTSD and batophobia. The rest of the story is just Lovecraft whining about immigrants “ruining” New York and reads like the antiquated 8,000 word equivalent of a Trump tweet. It’s not one of his better stories. So it’s kind of a miracle that LaValle not only manages to write a version of The Horror at Red Hook that’s not just a commentary on racism, but is actually good, while still keeping all the creepiness, mind-fuckery, characters, and plot of the original. Suydam and Thomas Malone both appear as major characters in The Ballad of Black Tom, Malone serving as a deuteragonist for the second half of the story, while Suydam introduces Tommy Tester, the book’s protagonist, to the occult. There are other hidden references to Lovecraft lore throughout the book. The title, Black Tom, is an allusion to the cat from The Rats in the Walls whose name was changed from N***** Man to Black Tom when the story was reprinted in Zest magazine in the 1950s. Toward the end Robert LaValle mentions a man from Rhode Island, living in New York, who may be Lovecraft himself.

LaValle defends the minority population living in Harlem and Redhook that Lovecraft so despised by showing them as the every day folks they are, trying to get by with what little they have. Tommy even expresses disappointment after visiting the Victoria Club, when he learns that it’s not the den of debauchery and sin he had hoped for, but instead old men playing cards and women selling meals they’ve made at home. There are criminals, yes, but that’s to be expected in any impoverished area, and they’re far from a majority of the population. When Tommy discovers Suydam is associating with so many criminals, he’s terrified, and it speaks more to the rich, white man’s character than the immigrants on New York. What Malone discovers in the basement is also been changed from the original, but to reveal more would ruin the amazing ending of Black Tom. Let’s just say LaValle provides his readers with more detail on the horrors the detective discovers, and a much more satisfying ending.

The thing I found the scariest about The Ballad of Black Tom weren’t the fictional monstrosities sleeping at the bottom of the see ready to destroy humanity, it was how much LaValle’s fictionalized world reminded me of our own. The cops’ blatant racism, their harassment of black men who were simply walking down the street, and their willingness to kill at the slightest provocation felt all too familiar, as did the rampant xenophobia and anti-immigration attitudes. The story may be set in the 1920s, but it’s clear that some things still haven’t changed. Tommy’s encounters with the police were enough to give me panic attacks, as I remembered my own family’s terrifying encounters with cops. While I’m pale enough to pass as white, most of my extended family isn’t, and I grew up with horror stories about what happened to black people stalked, shot, raped, and lynched for merely existing. Tommy has learned what every young black person is still being taught: if the police stop you, appear as non-aggressive as possible, be polite, and put up with whatever harassment the cops dish out or you’ll wind up dead. We see this in all his encounters with Malone. Tommy plays dumb, looks downs, and lets them steal his money and insult him to his face without making a comment. At least for the first half of the book.

Tommy Tester starts the story as a good man. He may trick others and take on some not-so-legal work, but he’s trying to take care of his disabled father in a world that’s against him, so it’s not surprising he has to do some questionable things to survive. At least he never actively hurts others and tries to do the right thing when he can, like preventing a witch from getting her hands on forbidden knowledge, which is more than I can say for most of the people Tommy encounters. Racist cops constantly threaten and abuse him, he’s harassed by a bunch of white kids just for walking while black, and white society treats him as less than human. Even Robert Suydam, who claims to admire Tommy and gives him a large sum of money to play guitar in his home, is merely using for his own ends. As it turns out, Suydam is a white man who fetishizes POC cultures, while still viewing himself as superior to the same people he claims he wants to help. There’s a saying “you can only kick a dog so many times before it bites back” and after being attacked, abused, taunted, stolen from, threatened, and finally losing everything to cold and corrupt law enforcement, Tommy Tester realizes he has nothing left to lose and says “fuck it”. And that’s how we start the second half of the story, told from Malone’s point of view, with Tommy, now calling himself “Black Tom,” transforming himself into the most badass, brutal, and terrifying antagonist in order to exact his bloody revenge on Robert Suydam, Thomas Malone, and the xenophobic NYPD. And let me just say, it’s immensely satisfying. Gory, but satisfying.

I abhor violence in real life, and obviously don’t agree with mass slaughter and abuse, no matter how evil the victims are. The real world is more complicated than just good vs. evil, and violence and revenge just beget more of the same. That said, there’s still a violent, pissed off part of me, hurt and furious at the injustice of the world, that wants to see wicked people suffer. Not just get their richly deserved comeuppance, but really, truly suffer in the worst ways imaginable. It’s the bitter part of me that relates to all those Saturday morning cartoon villains of my past who just want to destroy everything, because the world is such a terrible, hateful place that it probably deserves it. This vengeful part of me that becomes more and more hateful every time I read the news was immensely satisfied and soothed to watch Black Tom punish a group of racists who resemble 21st century hate groups a little too closely. It’s the same anger that motivates Killmonger in the Black Panther film.

But, like I said, these are ugly thoughts I would never actually act on or hope to see happen in real life because I know how wrong they are, and I still hold on to the hope that logic and compassion will win out (so FBI, if you’re reading this, I just want to clarify, I’m not actually planning on going on any kind of bloody killing spree). When Tommy, pushed to choose between an eldritch abomination and the hateful people who hurt him again and again, he gives in to revenge and loses part of his humanity, and that’s what makes the story so bitter-sweet. Black Tom may have gotten his revenge, but at the cost of being a good man, something he will have to live with for the rest of his life. He’s compromised his most important value, being the kind of man his father would be proud of, and can no longer look his best friend in the eye. As satisfying as it is to see horrible people suffer a horrible fate, you can’t help but feel bad for Tommy who’s left to wonder if it was really worth it.

My wife, who is wearing a blue space dress and white, over-the-knee socks has just opened the door to reveal two FBI agents, a light-skinned man, and a dark-skinned woman. My wife has her hands on her and looks irritated. She shouts, “What did you do this time!?!!” I’m in the foreground, carrying a human foot that’s been cut off below the knee. The limb is starting to decay and is wrapped in bandages. I look surprised and guilty at being caught by my wife.

The severed human leg actually has nothing to do with why the Feds are here. Though I’m sure my wife is going to ask about that too. Watch what you say on the internet kids!

Tags: Adult, African American, BIPOC, Black, Book Review, Caribbean, Eldritch, Highly Recommended, Historic Horror, Monster, Occult, Own Voices, SciFi, Young Adult

How I Became a Ghost by Tim Tingle

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: The Roadrunner Press

Genre: Ghosts/Haunting, Historic Horror, Werebeast (Were-Panther/Nagual)

Audience: Children

Diversity: American Indian (Choctaw)

Takes Place in: Choctaw Nation, Mississippi, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Illness, Kidnapping, Oppression, Physical Abuse, Racism, Self-Harm, Torture, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Told in the words of Isaac, a Choctaw boy who does not survive the Trail of Tears, HOW I BECAME A GHOST is a tale of innocence and resilience in the face of tragedy. From the book’s opening line, “Maybe you have never read a book written by a ghost before,” the reader is put on notice that this is no normal book. Isaac leads a remarkable foursome of Choctaw comrades: a tough-minded teenage girl, a shape-shifting panther boy, a lovable five-year-old ghost who only wants her mom and dad to be happy, and Isaac s talking dog, Jumper. The first in a trilogy, HOW I BECAME A GHOST thinly disguises an important and oft-overlooked piece of history.

I was looking through the kid’s section of the library (before I get kicked out for being the creepy adult with no children) when I stumbled upon Tim Tingle’s How I Became a Ghost. The title intrigued me, I’m always looking for books by minority authors, and I loved the cover. Then I noticed the fine print: A Choctaw Trail of Tears Story. Tingle’s book is not a simple ghost story for kids, but an important work of historical fiction about the horrors of the Indian Removal Act of 1830, which illegally forced the Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek, Seminole, and Cherokee from their homes and resulted in the death of thousands of American Indians.

A dark-skinned father is walking with his light-skinned young son and holding his baby. They are in a children’s library full of brightly colored bookshelves and posters for “We Need Diverse Books Poster” and “Catch the Flesh Eating Reading Bacterium”. I’m hiding in one of the bookshelves like a gremlin, hissing. The boy asks his father “Daddy, what is that weird lady doing in the children’s library by herself?” The father, unconcerned, responds “Just keep walking and don’t make eye contact sweetie.”

I decided to draw a background for this picture, and quickly remembered why I hate drawing backgrounds. These are all real children’s book covers by the way. I also sneaked in a “Welcome to Night Vale” reference.

How I Became a Ghost is not a “fun” kind of scary story (though there are plenty of humorous moments- more on that later) where you can easily brush away your fear because you know it’s a work of pure fiction. The characters in the book may be fictional, but this is still a book based on true events, that caused a great deal of death, suffering, and the loss of ancestral homeland. The first half of the book is based on the real-life experiences of John Carnes, Tingle’s great-great-grandfather, who was forced to walk the Trail of Tears along with his family and lost his mother and brother to exposure and disease during their forced relocation. Tingle first recorded his account of Carnes’ life in the short story Trail of Tears for his anthology book, Walking the Choctaw Road, and would later use it as inspiration for writing How I Became a Ghost.

Tingle doesn’t shy away from descriptions of the Choctaw people cutting their flesh in mourning, being burned alive in their homes, dying from small pox infected blankets, and of course, children dying. Pretty rough stuff, but I think kids can handle it, Tingle does a great job of educating his audience about the Trail of Tears, while still keeping the content age appropriate. And as Shelley A. Welch, an Eastern Cherokee woman, wrote in her guest post for the blog American Indians in Children’s Literature: “Some teachers will say that historical realities are too heavy for young children. Actually, it seems to be the adults that shy away from those topics …. who don’t seem to want to let go of American myths of ‘friendship and good will’ between the first settlers and the Indigenous people, a People who were once the majority and are now the smallest minority…. I can say that when children are told that one group bullied another, they are quite amazing peacemakers, acknowledging the breach of civil rights and offering cooperative resolutions. It is true, elementary-aged students aren’t developmentally ready for the specifics of genocide, but they can understand the inhumanity of racism. ” In other words, this book is loads better for children than all those Thanksgiving stories that propagate the lie of the “smiling (Wampanoag) Indian“. For kids who would prefer a non-fictional account of the Trail of Tears, there’s also Joseph Bruchac’s (author of Skeleton Man) children’s book that he wrote for the Step-Into-Reading series. But I think there’s something to be gained from reading a more personal (albeit fictional) account when learning about history. How I Became a Ghost also educates readers about Choctaw (Chahta) culture, spirituality, vocabulary, and even has a ghostly cameo from Chief Pushmataha.How I Became a Ghost is posthumously narrated by a ten-year-old Choctaw boy named Isaac. Isaac frequently brings up his impending death, so you spend the first two thirds of the story on edge, wondering when his time will come. At first, he’s plagued by visions of other Choctaw people dying, but eventually Isaac comes to terms with his own mortality and seems to accept it, though he does worry about how his family will react. I guess when you’re surrounded by death and you know the end is coming you start to feel pretty chill about the whole thing. There are plenty of scary moments for horror lovers, a teenage girl being abused by soldiers then hiding in the bonepickers‘ wagon, under a pile of bloody bones, stands out in particular.

For a story that’s written so simply (to make it easy for young readers) How I Became a Ghost leaves quite the impact. Something about the plain, straightforward way Isaac describes the trail of bloody footprints he leaves behind or the parents carrying their dead child really stays with you. Not everything is dark and depressing however, Tingle adds plenty of humor and hope to his book, like Isaac’s father pretending to be a snow monster and playfully chasing his sons, the other family they befriend on the Trail of Tears, and one of the Choctaw elders teasing Isaac for his clumsiness as a ghost. As a bonus, these scenes also shatter the myth of the “humorless, serious Indian” that’s frequently perpetuated by Euro-American media. I never felt like I was reading a “sad” story, more a story of survival. The ending of Isaac’s life, while tragic, is not the end of his spirit, and he continues to help and guide his friends and family as a ghost. When he dies, Isaac is cheerfully welcomed into the afterlife by the other spirits (shilombish) who continue to watch over their loved ones. Like the Choctaw Nation, Isaac continues to persevere, albeit in a different form, despite all he has suffered and lost.

I do have a few nitpicks, because of course I do, but they’re all pretty minor. Isaac’s cause of death felt like a really odd choice to me. *Spoilers* He’s killed by a wolf, even though wolves killing humans are extremely rare, and even then almost always carried out by a pack of wolves rather than a lone individual. In other words, Isaac would have had a greater chance of being killed by a lightning strike than a wolf attack. So why not have him die another, less improbable way? *End Spoilers* The whole thing seemed random and highly unlikely, though Tingle may have just chosen to take artistic license for the sake of the plot. Isacc’s dog, Jumper, also confused me. He seemed to be able to speak, but it wasn’t clear if Jumper could actually talk, or if Isaac just imagined his responses, like I do with my cats (don’t judge me). I think it’s the latter, since no one else appears to be able to “hear” Jumper, but it’s never really explained. So, there’s just this random talking dog that doesn’t really serve a purpose story-wise except to be adorable (not that I’m going to complain about a good dog, dogs make everything better).

In the first panel, I’m cheerfully talking to a short-haired tortoise-shell cat and voicing her responses: “Hi Kitty! You’re so cute and fuzzy! Cute, fuzzy, kitty butt!” “Meow, go away, I don’t like you.” “Oh kitty, why are you such a grumpy grump?” In the second panel I look less thrilled as the cat ignores me and “asks” “Why are you such a loser?” “Kitty that’s not nice!” “It’s true though! And you have a butt face and no friends and you smell.” In the last panel I’m crying while the cat purrs happily.

Cats are jerks.

There’s also a kind of odd character introduction halfway through the story, with the appearance of Joseph the were-panther. Apparently, Isaac already knows Joseph from his village, it’s just that no one bothered to mention his existence or wonder where he was prior to that point in the story, not even his own grandparents who were introduced in the first few chapters. Well, I guess it’s nice that this guy we had absolutely no knowledge of previously managed to survive? It’s also odd that Joseph turns into a black panther, and not a cougar (which is also known as a panther), a large cat that’s native to North America. At first I assumed the black panther on the cover was a stylistic choice, until Tingle describes Joseph’s feline form as having a black coat. Melanistic color variants only occur in leopards and jaguars, not cougars, and jaguars wouldn’t be found so far north. They do sometimes wander into New Mexico and Arizona, and there were even reports of jaguars in California during the 1800s (leopards are located on an entirely different continent), but having one appear in Mississippi seemed unlikely. At first I thought Joseph might be half Aztec or Olmec, since Tingle doesn’t reveal anything about his parents and both Indigenous groups have stories about people who can turn into jaguars. But it’s also likely that black, shape-shifting cougars are a part of Choctaw theology that I’m just not familiar with. Black panthers also make appearances in Tim Tingle’s House of Purple Cedar and Caleb, the latter of his works, also about a shape-shifting boy. I did try to do some further research into the matter, but with all the false information out there regarding American Indian beliefs, spirituality, and legends I wasn’t able to come up with much. There also seem to be a lot of legends in Mississippi about black panthers. Who knows?Sorry, I went off on a weird tangent there…

I’m sitting cross-legged on the ground, reading a copy of “How I Became a Ghost”. A black panther is standing behind me and reading over my shoulder. I complain “Cougars don’t have melanistic color variants!” The panther responds “You realize no one but you cares, right?”

I get really caught up on weird details, you’d think I’d be more concerned about the panther reading over my shoulder, but nope.

The writing may feel a little childish for adults and older readers, and not necessarily something I’d recommend for people in that age group (instead I’d suggest Tingle’s original Trail of Tears story, which is similar to How I Became a Ghost, but aimed at older readers and non-fictional), but kids will definitely get a kick out of the story and the epic rescue mission staged by Issac and his panther friend, and it will hopefully pique their interest in history and the Choctaw Nation. I know I’ll certainly be interested in checking out the sequel, When A Ghost Talks, Listen, when it’s released.

Tags: American Indian, BIPOC, Book Review, Children, Choctaw, Ghosts/Haunting, Historic Horror, Own Voices, Recommended, Southeast Native Nations, Werebeast

After the People Lights Have Gone Off by Stephen Graham Jones

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Dark House Press

Genre: Monster, Paranormal, Demon, Werewolf, Zombie, Killer/Slasher, Romance, Ghosts/Haunting, Sci-Fi Horror, Psychological Horror, Vampire

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: American Indian (Blackfoot/Niitsitapi), Queer (Gay Men), Disability (Paraplegic)

Takes Place in: USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Child Endangerment, Child Death, Gore, Violence, Death, Torture, Homophobia, Self-Harm, Implied Sexual Assault

Blurb

The fifteen stories in After the People Lights Have Gone Off by Stephen Graham Jones explore the horrors and fears of the supernatural and the everyday. Included are two original stories, several rarities and out of print narratives, as well as a few “best of the year” inclusions. In “Thirteen,” horrors lurk behind the flickering images on the big screen. “Welcome to the Reptile House” reveals the secrets that hide in our flesh. In “The Black Sleeve of Destiny,” a single sweatshirt leads to unexpectedly dark adventures. And the title story, “After the People Lights Have Gone Off,” is anything but your typical haunted house story.

With an introduction by Edgar Award winner Joe R. Lansdale, and featuring fifteen full-page illustrations by Luke Spooner, After the People Lights Have Gone Off gets under your skin and stays there.

For Native American Heritage Month I’d thought I’d review a collection of short stories by one of horror’s greatest writers, Stephen Graham Jones.

Do you ever find yourself reading this awesome, interesting book, but then you get to the last chapter and go “What the fuck did I just read?” I’m not talking stories with ambiguous endings where it’s left open to interpretation, like in Inception where it’s unclear whether Cobb is still in a dream or not (and then you spend hours arguing about it on the internet), but the ending still makes sense. No, I’m referring to endings that are downright obfuscating (yay, I have a thesaurus!). Endings where you have to skip back to check if you missed some really obvious clue, only to find that no, the story really does end like that, and then you’re left wondering if you’re just not smart (or high) enough to “get it”. For example, 2001: A Space Odyssey. I know it’s this amazing, classic film, but what the hell was up with that giant space baby!?! Did the really obvious metaphor for the birth of humanity just fly over my head or did Kubrick just drop a bunch of LSD? Or both? Seriously WTF? Am I the only person who doesn’t get it?

In the first panel a TV is showing a scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey with a giant, human fetus/star child floating in the void and looking at the planet earth. The second panel reveals me watching the film, bewildered, and asking “The hell is even happening right now?”

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have tried watching this movie at 3 AM.

Well, Stephen Graham Jones is a master of the WTF ending. In some ways this works to his advantage, like when it highlights the confusion and mental instability of the narrator, or preys on the reader’s fear of the unknown. Subtle scares can be terrifying when done right, and when Jones gets it right, it works SO WELL, like with Second Chances where the final sentence of the story hits you like a punch in the gut. But Jones makes things too subtle you’re left scratching your head and wondering what you’re supposed to be scared of. It’s like when the creepy music starts playing in a film, you know you’re supposed to feel uneasy because something bad is about to happen, but then, when the final dissonant chord is struck, everything just sort of ends without the payoff of a monster jumping out or even a terrified scream to imply something horrible just happened. Which is, unfortunately, really not that scary. After the People Lights Have Gone Off (the short story, not the book), Uncle, Xebico and Brush Monster all have this problem. Did someone die? Was there a monster? Is the narrator hallucinating? Did anything bad even happen? Am I just not smart enough to get it? It’s especially frustrating when the rest of the story makes sense, like in Xebico, but then the ending just kind of goes off the rails.

A sad, melting snow man with ear muffs, a whale with a bowtie shooting rainbows out of its blowhole, and a rabbit with a flower in its mouth, wearing a top hat and sunglasses are floating in midair and surrounded by sparkles. Looking uncomfortable, I ask, “Ummmm, so what am I supposed to be scared of? Is it the rabbit?”

I’m pretty sure it’s the sketchy looking rabbit.

Of course, none of this makes Jones a bad writer. He’s actually incredibly talented, aside from the whole confusing ending thing which is probably due more to me being obtuse than a lack of skill on Jones’ part. Like King, Jones has a real flair for making the mundane fucking terrifying. For example, The Black Sleeve of Destiny, which is about a Lovecraftian hoodie. That’s right, a hoodie. Well, that and some poor kid’s mild kleptomania spinning out of control until it becomes a full blown obsession, but mostly the evil hoodie that seems to act as a pocket dimension with a mind of its own. There’s also The Spider Box (such a creepy title) about a cardboard fruit box that resurrects the dead. Somehow Jones managers to cover all the horror staples in his book (demons, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, killers, and zombies) while still making his stories seem fresh and unique. A great example of this is Welcome to the Reptile House, one of the most distinct and creative vampire stories I’ve ever read. In fact, I didn’t even know it was a vampire story when I started reading it, so, uh, sorry for the spoiler.

Septa Unella from Game of Thrones is ringing her bell and chanting “shame, shame, shame”. Annoyed, I snap “Oh my God, it was one spoiler!”

Septa Unella shows up any time someone reveals a spoiler. Or at least, she SHOULD.

But not all the stories in this collection are your traditional tales of horror, some could even be considered love stories. Albeit, really messed up, creepy love stories, but love stories nonetheless. One story is even called This is Love. Jones explores different kinds of relationships in his novel, from lovers and devoted spouses, to childhood crushes, to familial love between siblings, parents and children, and even extended family. Snow Monsters is a heartwarming tale about what a parent will sacrifice for their child, but with a supernatural twist. Doc’s Story, explores the bonds of a struggling family, and is one of the most human stories in the collection, ironic since it’s about werewolves. In After the People Lights Have Gone Off (again, the short story, not the collection) and The Dead are Not we see examples of the complete devotion married couples have for each other, even when things get difficult and terrifying. Of course, there are also inversions, like Uncle, which is about a couple that has fallen out of love, and the husband’s feelings of guilt for not mourning his wife’s death.

Oh, and a little tip, before picking this book up I strongly recommend checking out Stephen King’s short story The Man in the Black Suit and H. F. Arnold’s The Night Wire (both of which you should read regardless because they’re awesome). Why? Well The Spindly Man is a horror story about a book group discussing King’s famous horror story (how’s that for Inception?), while Xebico is about adapting The Night Wire to the stage. And as cheesy as having a scary short story about another scary short story sounds, they’re both pretty awesome, yet another indicator of Jones’ talent.

Overall, After the People Lights Have Gone Off (this time I am referring to the book) is an amazing anthology by a talented author, as long as you’re okay with stream of consciousness writing and not always understanding what the hell you just read. Or maybe it’s just me, and the rest of you will have some deeper understanding of the stories. Jones’ work definitely makes me feel like I’m the only one at the party not getting the joke.

Tags: Adult, American Indian, Anthology, BIPOC, Blackfoot, Book Review, Disability, Highly Recommended, LGBTQIA, Own Voices, Plains Native Nations, Romance, vampire

The Jumbies by Tracey Baptiste

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Algonquin Young Readers

Genre: Monster, Myths and Folklore, Supernatural

Audience: Children

Diversity: Afro-Tobagonian and Indo-Tobagonian characters, Character with Speech Disorder (selective mutisim)

Takes Place in: Trinidad and Tobago

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Child Endangerment, Death

Blurb

Corinne La Mer claims she isn’t afraid of anything. Not scorpions, not the boys who tease her, and certainly not jumbies. They’re just tricksters made up by parents to frighten their children. Then one night Corinne chases an agouti all the way into the forbidden forest, and shining yellow eyes follow her to the edge of the trees. They couldn’t belong to a jumbie. Or could they?

When Corinne spots a beautiful stranger at the market the very next day, she knows something extraordinary is about to happen. When this same beauty, called Severine, turns up at Corinne’s house, danger is in the air. Severine plans to claim the entire island for the jumbies. Corinne must call on her courage and her friends and learn to use ancient magic she didn’t know she possessed to stop Severine and to save her island home.

I spent part of my childhood in St. Vincent and the Grenadines, where I frequently heard scary stories about Jumbies, the spirits that haunt the Caribbean. There were the Douens with their backwards feet and wide straw hats, the glowing eyes of the La Diablesse, and Duppies that could be kept away with salt. And while it was enough to give me nightmares as a child, being able to read a book that contained all these creepy creatures from my youth was nostalgic and wonderful.

A water color painting of two young, dark skinned girls in the Caribbean. The first girl is dressed in a green dress and a wide, green hat, and she is stepping out of the forest. Her eyes are too big and glow orange, and she smiles wickedly. The other girl, who is human, wears an orange dress and has her hands up in fear as she backs away.

Thanks for the childhood nightmares Tales of the Caribbean (published by the Wright Group)

The Jumbies is based on the Haitian fairytale, the Magic Orange Tree, and contains underlying themes of colonization, the clash of two cultures, and environmentalism. But if you’re worried about helpless princesses and ham-handed messages about not littering, never fear, Tracey Baptiste is far too talented an author to create some sort of terrible Snow White/Ferngully mishmash. Sure, there are still plenty of fun fantasy tropes, monsters, magic, and the dead mom cliché (because that’s apparently some sort of requirement for heroines in fairy tales) but there’s also a lovely lack of distressed damsels, one dimensional villains, and black and white morality. Baptiste doesn’t try to feed her young readers any sort of over-simplified nonsense about how good people are pure and beautiful and only capable of doing good things. Instead, the characters are complicated and flawed, and right and wrong aren’t always clear cut.

Five Disney heroines, Snow White, Cinderella, Belle, Ariel, and Jasmine, are having a tea party, with Corinne sitting in the middle. Over them, a banner reads “Dead Mom’s Club”. Belle exclaims “Très bon travail Corrine!” Ariel asks “Wow, you stopped the witch by yourself? My boyfriend had to save me!” and Jasmine comments “My dad was hypnotized too, by an evil guy with a snake staff.”

Okay, but seriously, what does Disney have against moms?

The main character, Corinne, is a young girl who lives with her father at the edge of a Jumbie-filled forest. Her mother died when she was very young but she left her daughter three very special gifts, her necklace, an orange tree, and a gift for growing things. Predictably, Corinne must use all three to discover the truth about herself and fight the evil threatening her home. And let me tell you, I wish I was as awesome as Corinne. She’s smart, self-sufficient, and incredibly brave. In the original fairy tale on which The Jumbies is based, the protagonist is a passive character that things just sort of happen to, but Corrine is proactive about her dire situation, and willing to fight the monsters herself instead of waiting for rescue. The helpless heroines in tales of old don’t hold a candle to the courageous Corinne. And let’s be honest “wait and hope things get better” is not the greatest message to give to kids. Don’t wait to be saved, rescue yourself.

Corrine, wearing her father’s oversized shirt, proudly tells me “Yeah, I just defeated a bunch of monsters, rescued my dad from an evil enchantress, and saved the whole island, no big deal.” Looking sheepish, I respond, “I called the doctor’s office and made an appointment all by myself…”

There’s nothing that makes me feel more inadequate than a kid 20 years my junior who’s tougher than I am.

That isn’t to say Baptiste is telling the reader to only rely on themselves. As tough as Corrine is, sometimes she needs the aid of her friends, in this case a pair of mischievous orphan brothers, Bouki and Malik, and a shy young girl named Dru. They pull her up at her lowest moment, and stand by her side when she confronts Severine. It’s a nice balance. Corrine is brave and independent, but is still able to rely on others when she needs to, while Dru, the girly-girl to Corrine’s tomboy, is shy and timid, without being weak and helpless, and learns to be braver and more independent. She may not want to handle scorpions or run into the forest by herself, but Dru’s still far from being a distressed damsel. Then there’s Bouki and Malik, who are used to relying only on each other but learn that getting help from others is a sign of strength, not weakness.

Interestingly, most of the Jumbies aren’t portrayed as being good or evil, they simply want to protect their forest home from the humans who’ve invaded it. But unlike more heavy-handed environmental stories, Baptiste takes a more nuanced approach, and doesn’t paint these issues as black and white. Think more Lorax (the book, not the film) less Captain Planet. The humans aren’t evil, selfish, or greedy, but they’re still destroying the forest homes of the Jumbies who’ve lived there for thousands of years. Nor are the Jumbies evil per se, they just want to protect their home from the human invaders. Even Severine, the big bad of the story, isn’t completely unsympathetic. As evil as she is, she clearly loved her dear sister and is hurting from her loss. Severine is lashing out for a reason, and while it by no means justifies the terrible things she does, it at least explains them.

This book is perfect for younger kids who are tired of Cinderella and Snow White, and like their stories a little spooky. It has a strong female lead, fighting to protect her father and her home, a cast of fun supporting characters, and one truly creepy villain.

Tags: Afro-Tobagonian, Asian, BIPOC, Black, Book Review, Caribbean, Children, Disability, Indian, Indo-Tobagonian, Monster, Myths and Folklore, Own Voices, Recommended

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Occult

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Ecuadorian author, Hispanic/Latinx characters, Puerto Rican characters, South Asian character, Bisexual characters

Takes Place in: New York City, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Animal Death, Body Shaming, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Kidnapping, Torture, Violence

Blurb

Nothing says Happy Birthday like summoning the spirits of your dead relatives.

Alex is a bruja, the most powerful witch in a generation…and she hates magic. At her Deathday celebration, Alex performs a spell to rid herself of her power. But it backfires. Her whole family vanishes into thin air, leaving her alone with Nova, a brujo boy she can’t trust. A boy whose intentions are as dark as the strange marks on his skin.

The only way to get her family back is to travel with Nova to Los Lagos, a land in-between, as dark as Limbo and as strange as Wonderland…

Alex is about to celebrate her Deathday, a huge party that’s thrown when a young bruja or brujo first gets their powers. Her entire extended family will be there to help her bind and control her newfound abilities. Everyone seems thrilled, especially her mother and older sister Lula; everyone that is, except for Alex. She views magic as a curse rather than a blessing, so she’s pretty upset when she discovers that, no surprise (it’s Y/A fiction after all), she’s essentially the most powerful bruja they’ve seen in generations, an encantrix whose magic is vast and broad. Most brujas are limited to one or two abilities, like healing or seeing the future, but Alex can pretty much do anything. In a misguided attempt to get rid of her power, she accidentally banishes not only all her living relatives but her dead ancestors as well to the Limbo-like land of Las Lagos. Oops.

Okay, so admittedly the whole powerful chosen one thing does sound kind of Mary Sue-ish, especially the part about not wanting her super special powers. “Oh, poor little main character, you get all these awesome powers, how awful for you!” said no reader ever. Well, Alex has a pretty good reason for hating her magic, and it’s not the typical “Oh, being perfect is so hard~” B.S. You see, magic isn’t some consequence free wish-fulfilling super power, it’s born from sacrifice. Magic drains the user and causes them physical pain. The more powerful the spell, the more you’ll suffer. Healing someone’s else’s headache means you’ll end up with a black eye. A protection spell could cause you to pass out. Some magic can even drain the life force of the user, slowly killing them. Magic is also the reason Alex’s father disappeared, destroying her family. She has to watch her mother grieve and suffer every day, trying to raise three girls on her own. It traumatized her when she was seven and saw the re-animated corpse of her Aunt Rosaria. Magic killed her pet cat, plagues her with nightmares, and forces her to keep her best friend at arm’s length. So Alex’s aversion to her powers is understandable, I wouldn’t want to use magic either after all that.

A dark skinned girl looks traumatized in front of a destroyed kitchen. Blue, magical flame surrounds her hand and the broken dishes on the counter.

Thanks, magic!

Love triangles are another tired trope in young adult fiction that I’m sick of seeing. It’s just pointless and needless drama that derails the story. Can’t everyone just be polyamorous and get along? A threesome would clearly solve this problem. It’s especially irritating when one (or both) of the love interests is a mysterious bad boy who appears out of nowhere and seduces the main character, despite them having nothing in common. Just have a one-night stand and get it out of your system, he clearly isn’t relationship material, damn. So many problems in YA fiction could be solved by just sleeping with everyone… and I just realized why I probably shouldn’t be giving advice to teenagers. Okay, forget everything I just said. Love triangles are still stupid though, and when I first learned Labyrinth Lost had one (with a mysterious bad boy no less) I let out one of those long, exasperated groans that makes me sound like a slow-moving zombie that just discovered it’s going to have run after its prey. So, basically me as a zombie. Running is the worst. So are pointless romantic sub-plots.

I’m rolling my eyes letting out a very long, very loud groan. My wife is sitting at a table looking at her tablet and trying to ignore me. She asks “So is it a love triangle again, or are you craving brains?”

THE WORST

Nova, the smug, douchey, “bad boy” brujo who kept flirting with Alex was about as obnoxious as you’d expect, no surprise there. He was all dark and tortured and rude, bleh. But this is where Córdova surprised me. Because Nova’s romantic rival is a South Asian girl named Rishi, Alex’s longtime friend. Okay, so a multiracial, bisexual love triangle, that’s not something you see every day. And it’s not just queer baiting either! The two girls are genuinely romantically interested in each other. Plus, Rishi is so awesome; she’s brave, weird, loyal, funny–exactly the kind of person I’d want to be friends with. When Alex is in trouble she doesn’t even hesitate to dive in and rescue her, because that’s what friends do. My interest was cautiously piqued, but I was still wary. Was this going to turn into a huge drama-filled plot point that derails the story? But again Córdova exceeded my expectations, because the love triangle is barely even there. Yes, Alex ends up with one of them, and yeah, the bickering of the two suitors could be annoying, but Alex’s entire focus is on saving her family, as it should be. Yes, she has crazy teenage hormones and starts lusting after her best friend and the mysterious Nova, but her focus never wavers from the task at hand, and she pushes her romantic impulses to the side. Alex even gets irritated that Nova is wasting so much time flirting and Rishi keeps getting jealous, when there are clearly much bigger fish to fry. I don’t usually get invested in romantic subplots, and I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, but I went full on fan girl and found myself shipping Rishi and Alex the entire time (much to the chagrin of my poor wife who had to deal with my high pitched squees every few minutes). I feel like I need to write Córdova an apology letter for ever doubting her, because she has somehow managed to pull off the least annoying love triangle I’ve ever read in YA fiction. Hell, even Nova got called out for his arrogant dick act, which I was also not expecting. So, Kudos to you Córdova.

I’m reading Labyrinth Lost, looking annoyed, and comment “Ugh, I hate pointless love triangles.” In the next panel I suddenly look interested and saying “Oooooh, it’s a bisexual love triangle? That doesn’t waste time with needless drama!? And she doesn’t up with the bad boy’s douchey behavior!?!” The third panel shows me squeeing, surrounded by sparkles, with big, shiny eyes. In the final panel, someone yells off screen “Y’know, you don’t have to say every thought that pops into your head out loud”.

A love of triangle actually made me squee for the first time in history.

The whole romantic subplot, if you can even call it that, is thankfully a pretty minor story element, and the story’s main focus is on family and identity. Alex’s relationship with her sisters, mother, aunts and the other women in her family is incredibly well written and touching, and one of my favorite aspects of the book. It’s just so wonderfully refreshing to see a YA novel that focus on the bonds between women and familial love rather than girls fighting over stupid boys. Lula, her beautiful and bossy older sister is great, a force unto herself, overflowing with love and magic, and always ready to take charge. I love Lula. Her younger sister, Rose, is a psychic with the whole creepy child vibe going on, an incredibly clever and intelligent young girl with a sweet tooth and a mischievous streak. She doesn’t get as much page time, as she’s more reserved than her two sisters. And of course Alex’s mother, Carmen, a strong woman and loving parent, holds their little family together. They’re not perfect, and they might bicker, but they’re all fiercely loyal and protective of each other, and Alex’s strong connection with her family is what gives her the strength to journey through Los Lagos, and protects her from the perils of the dark, magical Limbo.

Córdova’s world building is another strong point of the story. Los Lagos is probably tied with Paheli from The Gauntlet for the coolest fantasy world I’ve read about this year. It’s enchantingly creepy, beautiful, and weird. Interestingly, it reminds me of two other fantasies titled after the Minotaur’s legendary prison, Jim Henson’s Labyrinth and Guillermo del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth (with a little bit of the Wizard of Oz thrown in for good measure, even if it breaks the themed naming). The only downside to having a creative world that stands out so much is that the characters seem kind of bland in comparison. That’s not to say any of the characters are poorly written or dull, it’s just hard to hold a candle to the land of Los Lagos with its rivers of ghosts, burning forests, and creepy creatures.

Córdova’s world is inspired by Latin American religions and cultures to create the story’s mythology, magic, and gods. The bilingual bonuses and Latina influences will be fun for anyone familiar with the language and culture, but if you’re new to brujas and brujos keep in mind the ones in Labyrinth Lost resemble actual Brujeria, Santeria, and folk magic practitioners about as much as the wizards and witches in Harry Potter represent real Wiccans. For example, the Deos in the story are similar in many respects to the orixá of Santeria and the Loa form Vodou, but have no “real world” counterparts. Interestingly enough, other witches and magic users from other traditions also exist in the Labyrinth Lost universe, though we never get a chance to see them. Maybe in future Brooklyn Brujas titles.

Tags: BIPOC, Bisexual, Book Review, Dark Fantasy, Ecuadorian, Latine/Latino, LGBTQIA, Occult, Own Voices, Puerto Rican, Recommended, South American, South Asian

Shutter by Courtney Alameda

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Square Fish Books

Genre: Monster, Ghosts/Haunting, Zombie, Vampires, Blood & Guts, Thriller, Horror, Romance

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: POC (Love interest is part Aboriginal Islander, author is Latina), Disability (PTSD)

Takes Place in: type here

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Violence, Gore, Child Death, Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Child Abuse, Sexism, Sexual Harassment/Assault, Torture

Blurb

Lock, stock, and lens, she’s in for one hell of a week.

Micheline Helsing is a tetrachromat-a girl who sees the auras of the undead in a prismatic spectrum. As one of the last descendants of the Van Helsing lineage, she has trained since childhood to destroy monsters both corporeal and spiritual: the corporeal undead go down by the bullet, the spiritual undead by the lens. With an analog SLR camera as her best weapon, Micheline exorcises ghosts by capturing their spiritual energy on film. She’s aided by her crew: Oliver, a techno-whiz and the boy who developed her camera’s technology; Jude, who can predict death; and Ryder, the boy Micheline has known and loved forever.

When a routine ghost hunt goes awry, Micheline and the boys are infected with a curse known as a soulchain. As the ghostly chains spread through their bodies, Micheline learns that if she doesn’t exorcise her entity in seven days or less, she and her friends will die. Now pursued as a renegade agent by her monster-hunting father, Leonard Helsing, she must track and destroy an entity more powerful than anything she’s faced before . . . or die trying.

Shutter by Courtney Alameda is a thrilling horror story laced with an irresistible romance.

As a 90’s kid, I grew up with some truly terrible action films. And I loved them. Mortal Kombat, Wild Wild West, and Total Recall are all proudly displayed on my DVD shelf. So I like to think I’m pretty forgiving when it comes to plots full of holes and cookie-cutter characters, as long as the story itself is fun and entertaining. Keeping that in mind, let’s dive into Shutter, the literary equivalent of a bad action film.

We’ll start with our four, action-cliché, main characters. We’ve got the leader of the good guys, complete with her obligatory tragic backstory, the tough guy who always has her back, the smart guy who’s good with computers but not so great at fighting, and the wise cracking jackass who we’re supposed to like but just comes off as sexist and irritating. They exist to spout “clever” quips at each other, provide exposition at awkward times, and act like bad asses.

Following a standard action movie formula, the hero decides to rush off on her own without backup, and gets suspended by the boss (who’s also her abusive dad). But they go after the bad guy anyway because screw the rules, they’re action heroes! Then there’s lots of cool action scenes, explosions, some TRULY creepy shit, and a love story that gets shoehorned in there.

Okay, so the writing is “meh”, the characters are kind of flat, and the story formulaic as hell, but was it at least exciting and entertaining? Was their nail biting suspense and horror? I’ll get to that in a minute. First, I need to address some major issues I had with story, the first being its heroine, Micheline.Micheline is a tetrachromat, able to see the invisible “ghost light” given off by the undead. As a direct descendant of Abraham Van Helsing, (because of course she is) she is sworn to protect the world from monsters, and captures and exorcises ghosts on her camera, à la Fatal Frame. Now, I’m going to give the author major props for making the lead a woman, something that doesn’t happen often in the action genre (but is slowly becoming more common). So that’s great. What’s not so great is that Micheline has this really annoying habit of having to prove what a “Strong Female Character TM” she is by running head first into danger, then needing to be rescued by the guys. Apparently nothing says “bad ass” like poor decision making and being a damsel in distress.

Micheline, is wearing her tactical, Hellsing gear and has her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She’s leaping in the air, brandishing a gun in one hand, and a camera in the other while gleefully shouting “Leerrooooy Jenkins!!!!”

Great teamwork there.

I can understand why she might want to prove herself; Micheline is struggling with PTSD and an abusive father, so it would make sense if the story was about her difficulty returning to active duty while suffering from flashbacks. Overcoming something like that is no easy task. But her trauma and strained relationship with her father seem to be their own separate thing, with little to nothing to do with her foolhardy, reckless, and selfish behavior. At least Micheline doesn’t take her grief out on everyone else, like her jerk-ass dad, she just puts their lives in danger by keeping important information from them, making everything about her, and refusing to deal with her issues. So, basically a pretty awful leader. I also got this whole “I’m not like other girls, I’m a cool girl” vibe from Micheline. Throughout the book she kept putting down other women and/or viewing them as competition for her “boys”, which was just sexist and gross. Basically, what could have been a cool, strong, female action hero was ruined by internalized sexism, bad decisions, and needing men to save her all the freaking time.

Another huge problem with Shutter was the flow of the action scenes. There is SO MUCH exposition and info dumping, and it keeps interrupting the suspenseful parts of the story. I mean, it’s wonderful how much thought Alameda put into this world, and I was certainly interested in the science behind monster hunting, but I don’t want to read a full page about how a camera works right when Micheline is about to be killed by a ghost. It’d be like pausing the duel scene between Luke and Vader to give a five minute lecture on the technology behind lightsabers. It’s cool and all, but really not the right time, and completely destroys the tension.

Micheline is fighting a shadowy creature with a glowing blue mouth and eyes. In the first panel she’s attempting to take its photo. In the second, both she and the monster jump out of the way in surprise as the words “INFO DUMP” fall from the sky. They both stand there awkwardly as an extensive, verbose paragraph about trichromsticism scrolls by. The shadow monsters asks “So do we just wait, or what?”

Forget the incredibly dramatic fight scene, let’s learn about trichromsticism!

Okay, so now for the moment you’ve been waiting for, was it at least entertaining? Heck yeah it was! The overall story was great, suspenseful, and fun, with some truly terrifying scenes. By the time I got to the second half of the book, I couldn’t put it down! The monsters were incredibly creative and creepy, like something out of Silent Hill, and the horror scenes were spot on. Alameda does an excellent job of building suspense and creating a creepy atmosphere (minus the random info dumps that kill the mood). It’s worth pointing out that this is the author’s debut novel, so it’s understandable that the book has flaws. Even the great Terry Pratchett’s early work was, admittedly, not that great, and he’s one of my favorite authors! So Alameda definitely has time to hone her skills and improve on her characterization and exposition. She’s already great at world building, horror, and action scenes. And honestly, it’s nice to see a horror novel written by a Latina author. The genre is severely lacking in Latine/Latina writers, and the few I know of are mostly men.

Overall, Shutter is a fun, suspenseful read, even with its flaws. If I could just take out the annoying characters, and focus on the plot, the monsters, and the fight scenes, the book would be perfect, like a horror survival game. That’s actually not a bad idea, it could be a cross between Fatal Frame and Resident Evil, where you can just explore abandoned buildings and fight monsters instead of listening to pointless dialogue. At least in a video game I can skip random info dumps.

The Microsoft paperclip asks “It looks like you’re trying to play a video game, would you like me to annoy you the next hour while I explain how to use the controls?” Annoyed, I complain “Argh, just let me fight monsters already!” and skip the tutorial. 15 minutes later, I wonder to myself how the hell I’m supposed to play this game.

I just imagine all annoying video game tutorials as being done by either Navi or the Microsoft Paperclip.

Tags: BIPOC, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Disability, Ghosts/Haunting, Indigenous Australian, Latine/Latino, Mental Illness, Monster, Not for Me, PTSD, Romance, Thriller, Young Adult, Zombies

Everything I Know About Zombies I Learned in Kindergarten by Kevin Wayne Williams

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Mott Haven Books

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Blood & Guts, Zombie

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Black/African American/Caribbean American characters, Trinidad, Jamacian, Hispanic/Latinx characters

Takes Place in: New York City, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Body Shaming, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gore, Medical Procedures, Miscarriage, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Slurs, Suicide, Violence

Blurb

Finalist for Foreword Reviews’ IndieFab Novel of the Year for Multicultural fiction and Horror. Even before the apocalypse, nine-year-old Letitia Johnson’s life had never been simple. Shuttled from foster home to foster home in the impoverished neighborhood of Mott Haven, it was all she could do to keep track of her little sister. When the apocalypse came, she tried to keep her sister’s kindergarten safe by locking them all in a tiny school bathroom, hiding while they waited for a rescue that never came. For five days, they hid. They hid while their teachers were being eaten, while their classmates were being killed. They hid while the Bronx was being evacuated. Now, there’s no one left to help them. There’s no place left to hide. It’s just her, one ax, twelve kindergarteners, twelve garden stakes, and a will to live.

While the cast of this novel is primarily children, the book is intended for adults and contains material unsuitable for younger readers.

When it comes to horror, kids come in two types. Either they’re sweet, innocent, completely helpless victims the protagonist needs to protect at all costs, or they’re evil little bastards that will send you into the cornfield, control you with their telepathic powers, or just straight up murder you because they’re the spawn ofSatan. The children in Everything I Know About Zombies I Learned in Kindergarten somehow land right dab in the middle of the victim/villain scale. They’re neither helpless nor innocent after being forced to go through things no child should go through, nor are they actively malicious, only killing for survival. They also don’t seem to possess the immunity to handle situations that most children do in horror stories. Kids get eaten by Zombies, shot, torn apart, and baby zombies get spiked in the head. So if you can’t stomach minors getting killed in fiction, I recommend staying far, far away from this book.

Letitia, the nine-year-old protagonist, is easily the most competent, clever, and practical character in the book, organizing her little sister’s kindergartners into a unit of efficient zombie killers and quickly picking up survival skills. Growing up with a drug addicted mom, Letitia is used to taking charge and picking up adults’ slack, in addition to becoming wary of the world at a young age. In the early chapters, they try to look for the childrens’ parents, eager to be rid of such a heavy responsibility, only to discover their dickbag guardians all evacuated without them. (Who the hell just leaves their kid behind during a disaster? You’d think they’d at least make some effort to save them, damn.) The adult survivors actually pose more of a threat than the zombies (or cucos, as the children call them), their greed and despair claiming far more lives than the undead do. It’s weird, even though the children are far from innocent, having become skilled killers, the adults are the ones who’ve become morally bankrupt. The few who do manage to hold on to their optimism and naivety don’t last long, foolishly trusting the wrong people or refusing to admit the world, and the rules, have changed. The kids might be depressingly cynical and violent now, but they’re merely adapting to their new reality, and are much more practical than their grown counterparts. It’s no wonder the adults are so unnerved by them.

In the top panel, a little girl holding a spike is telling a grown woman “Don’t worry Señorita, I will protect you from the cuco!” The woman, bemused, responds “Awwww, you’re so adorable!” In the next panel the little girl brandishes her spike with a crazed grin and responds “I have become an expert killer and now I yearn for blood! Human or cuco, I can slay them with ease!” The woman, confused and concerned, asks “Wait, what?”

Some of the kids enjoy killing a little too much.

I was expecting the children being eaten by the undead to be the most disturbing part, until the book turned out to be about the death of innocence, and children being forced to adapt to a situation no child should ever go through. It’s one thing to read about fantastical monsters like Zombies attacking a bunch of helpless kids, but quite another when they’re dying from gun violence, or growing up in crushing poverty. In the first, the situation is pure fiction, no real child is ever going to be attacked by the undead, and you can feel safe in that knowledge. But it hits close to home when it comes to real world problems. Even if the children in the story are fictional, you know millions of real kids out there right now who are surrounded by abuse, violence, and probably living without basic necessities, and that’s super depressing. So basically, it’s a story about how kids with rough lives can’t rely on adults (because they’re either malicious, incompetent, or ignorant) and have to take charge of their own safety and survival, which probably would’ve ended up happening with or without undead hordes overtaking the city. I know zombie apocalypse stories are generally bleak, but damn.

The zombies in the story are pretty much your typical Romero zombies, slow-moving and stupid, and not too difficult to kill as long as there aren’t a lot of them and their brains are destroyed, a feat which the children usually accomplish by stabbing them in the eye with garden stakes. Unfortunately, everyone becomes zombified upon death, regardless of how they die, so the undead multiply even if they can’t bite anyone. Letitia quickly figures out that the zombies are attracted to movement and sound, and is smart enough to stick to quiet, secluded areas, while the adults continue to attract the undead with the buzz of their emergency generators and gun fire (because the adults are somehow less competent than grade schoolers, another reason Letitia avoids them).

Unfortunately for me, most of the book is dedicated to the practically of surviving in an abandoned New York City, wandering around and looting mini-marts for supplies…which made for less than stimulating reading. I’m going to admit right now, I don’t like camping or fishing, or any form of “roughing it,” and I don’t like reading about it, either. I’m pretty sure I’d die if I went for more than 40 minutes without WiFi. So I’ve long ago accepted the fact that I would probably be the first person to die in a zombie apocalypse type situation due to my dependence on modern conveniences and comfort, and I’m okay with that. I’m sure some people will find all the survivor type stuff super interesting, as is evident from Discovery Channel’s programming, but I was hoping for way more suspense and undead violence, and less foraging and guinea pig farming. Speaking of which, there’s a decent amount of animal death too, apparently Zombies like to eat puppies as much as they like to eat little kids.

I’m on my knees, fists raised above my head, screaming at the sky in despair “There’s no Wi-Fi! Noooooooooooooooooooo!” A tablet lies in front of me displaying a large “no Wi-Fi” symbol on the screen.

I would not last long in an Apocalypse, or even a dead zone. How did I even function back in the 80’s?

Stepping away from the story for a moment, I feel it’s worth mentioning that while this book was a finalist for a multicultural fiction award, and has a very diverse cast, it was written by a white guy. Obviously, I prefer Own Voices books, but I’ve reviewed non-minority authors writing about minority characters on here before, and I probably wouldn’t even be mentioning the author’s race except for one thing that was bothering me. For the most part Williams does do a pretty decent job at representing a very racially diverse cast, and has clearly put a lot of effort into making the children’s voices seem authentic. But the way the protagonist, Letitia, spoke came off as iffy to me, and I found myself side-eyeing like I always do when white people try to replicate the slang and speech patterns used by people of color within their communities. Now, it’s totally possible Letitia is completely accurate to how Caribbean children speak, and I’m just super ignorant. It’s just as possible Williams was trying to portray the way an average nine-year-old speaks, and Letitia’s ethnicity had nothing to do with it. I mean, I have no idea what children are supposed to sound like, and my mom was a grammar obsessed English major so I probably sounded like an overly-formal weirdo at that age. (No one says “to whom are you referring” or “may I please”, when they’re in Kindergarten mom, GOD.) I honestly don’t know, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave that distinction to someone more qualified. And if I am jumping to conclusions, well, blame it on all the racist pidgin I’ve heard spouted by characters like Long Duk Dong and the Crows from Dumbo (did you know the main crow’s name is Jim? Damn, Disney…) over the years making me super wary.

In the top panel, a TV screen displays an image of the five crows from Disney’s Dumbo. The leader shouts “I’d be done see’n about everything, when I see an elephant fly!” In the second panel I’m squinting suspiciously at the Dumbo DVD case thinking “This movie is a lot more racist than I remember.”

Seriously, Jim Crow! WTF were you thinking Disney!?! At least they’re not as bad as Sunflower from Fantasia.

Everything I Know About Zombies I Learned in Kindergarten definitely has flaws, most of the adults (and a few of the kids) get so little characterization it’s hard to figure out who’s who, the action scenes are confusing, and Williams spends way too much time on boring minutiae, but it’s still an enjoyable read. The horror is less the gory, run away from the monster kind like I was expecting, and more a slow building horror at the nature of humanity and how adults kind of suck.

Tags: Adult, African American, Apocalypse/Disaster, BIPOC, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Latine/Latino, Recommended, Zombies

Panic by Sharon Draper

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

Genre: thriller

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: POC (Black, Asian American)

Takes Place in: Western USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Child Endangerment, Self-Harm, Kidnapping, Forced Captivity, Homophobia, Ableism, Sexism, Misogyny, Body Shaming, Slurs, Gaslighting, Violence, Death

Blurb

This gripping, chillingly realistic novel from New York Times bestselling author Sharon Draper, “by turns pulse-pounding and inspiring” (Kirkus Reviews), shows that all it takes is one bad decision for a dream to become a nightmare.

Diamond knows not to get into a car with a stranger.

But what if the stranger is well-dressed and handsome? On his way to meet his wife and daughter? And casting a movie that very night—a movie in need of a star dancer? What then?

Then Diamond might make the wrong decision.

It’s a nightmare come true: Diamond Landers has been kidnapped. She was at the mall with a friend, alone for only a few brief minutes—and now she’s being held captive, forced to endure horrors beyond what she ever could have dreamed, while her family and friends experience their own torments and wait desperately for any bit of news.

From New York Times bestselling author Sharon Draper, this is a riveting exploration of power: how quickly we can lose it—and how we can take it back.

Here’s the thing about Panic. The first time read it, I hated it. I thought it was preachy, poorly-written, and out of touch. The book advertises itself as a crime-thriller about the abduction of the teenage dancer, Diamond, and the ordeals she goes through while in captivity. And I’ll tell you right now, those parts of the story are deeply disturbing. Stop here if you don’t want to read about the abduction and sexual assault of a fictional minor. But that’s only a very small part of the story. In fact, most of the book focuses on what Diamond’s fellow dancers go through, especially a young woman named Layla who’s entwined in an abusive relationship. And that’s not what I signed up for when I started reading Panic. We have this abducted girl who’s being drugged and brutalized, and you feel so scared for her, but instead the story chooses to focus on her whiny fellow dancers. WTF?! And that bugged me, because it felt like Diamond’s rape and exploitation wasn’t important enough to focus on, so instead Draper squeezed in some insipid love triangle, and some extra drama about a dad in jail and an abusive relationship. BUT, I’ll admit, after a second reading, I initially rushed to judgment and missed the point of the book.

Despite what the book jacket said, this isn’t a story about a girl who gets kidnapped by a pedophile. I mean, that does happen, but it’s not the story’s main focus. This is a book about a bunch of kids trying to cope with the tragedy of their friend’s abduction, and expressing their fear and frustration through dance. It’s also about abuse victims, and how anyone can become one. And honestly, Panic was a lot better the second time around. I still didn’t like it, but at least I’ve now figured out why I had so many issues with the story the first time around.

Draper has definitely done her research when it comes to sexual assault and abuse. Although abductions by strangers are uncommon (most are committed by a family member or acquaintance), Diamond’s kidnapper, Thane, is just the sort of person who would lure a girl into sex trafficking. He’s not some sketchy guy driving a refrigerator van, like the ones we’re taught to fear. Instead, Thane is well dressed, friendly, and charming. He approaches Diamond in a well-lit, public food court in the mall. He’s able to back up his claims with photographs, offers to let her call her mom, and convinces her to get into his car of her own free will. This is more accurate to real life, where the people who “recruit” teens into prostitution and porn usually work out in the open. They make promises of a glamorous (or at least marginally better) lifestyle, and come off as legitimate businessmen and women. They spend time gaining their victim’s trust and learn how to manipulate them. It’s similar to other abusive relationships, like Layla’s, where the abuser presents themselves as charming and kind, and only reveals their true nature bit by bit, after they’ve developed control over their victim. Likewise, Layla’s awful boyfriend, Donovan, keeps her by his side by giving her the love she desperately craves (since her father is in jail and her mother’s never around), picking away at her self-esteem so she thinks she’s “lucky” to have him, and always tearfully apologizing whenever he hurts her. Obviously Draper knows her stuff, and is able to approach sensitive topics in an honest way. She never blames the victims (even if some of the characters do), both Thane and Donovan are clearly at fault for everything that happened to Diamond and Layla. Although, I find it ironic that Draper includes one of Chris Brown’s songs in her book about women being abused, especially since Panic was written around 2011-2012, then published in 2013, so Draper should have been aware of Brown’s domestic abuse allegations, which happened back in ’09. So yeah…

While Draper seems to be a pretty talented author, as is obvious from her descriptions of her character’s dancing, the quality of the writing in Panic varies wildly, almost as if Draper was struggling to find the right voice for a teenage audience. Sometimes the lines are elegant and poignant, while others made me feel like I was reading a “My First Chapter Book”. Except the subject matter probably isn’t appropriate for anyone in the easy reader audience (I think, I dunno what the kids are reading these days).

A fake vintage children’s book cover entitled “My First Book of Demon Summoning”. Two cheerful, Dick and Jane-esque children are wearing dark robes, the boy is on the ground praying and the girl is holding a blood dagger over her head. They’re standing in a demonic circle, surrounded by candles, with a gold bowl in the middle. Smoke rises out of the bowl revealing a very stereotypical red devil face, complete with pointed ears, horns, a moustache and goatee.

I mean, I’d let a kid read this, so I’m probably not the best judge…

Just when I’m starting to actually enjoy the story, along comes a cringe-worthy line like “This is the only place where I feel like I can really kick it.” And “OMG, the show is gonna be off the chain!” or “Nice ‘fit today… I gotta get out my shades to combat the shine you’re bouncing.” Who talks like that? NO ONE. NO ONE TALKS LIKE THAT. It’s like how old people who believe that sex bracelets are a real thing think teenagers speak. It reeks of embarrassing adult trying to be hip. Worse, it makes scenes that were intended to be moving come off as cheesy or forced. Draper also feels the need to fill her book with “current” slang, pop culture references, and mentions of popular songs from 2011, which I’m sure in no way is going to make this book seem incredibly dated in a few years. And this is what ruined the book for me. Because even though Panic isn’t actually preachy or condescending with its subject matter, the dialogue and attempts to come off as “cool” and “relevant” conjure up images of every patronizing, poorly researched, and vaguely racist PSA I was forced to sit through as a schoolchild in the 90’s. So of course that’s all I could think about the entire time I was reading Panic, those crappy drug-free programs that told naïve school children their faces would melt like the guy from Raiders if they so much as thought about smoking a joint, which led to me judging the book unfairly.

Now I’m going to sit in my chair backwards to show you how “rad” I am.

Well, not entirely unfairly. Like I said, even if the final result is decent, the quality of the writing is pretty bad in some spots, and the dialogue is god awful. And here’s another issue: Panic is fairly short, like, less than 300 pages in large print, but the book is divided between four points of view, meaning it’s hard to get a feel for any of the characters. And truthfully, they’re all kind of generic and bland. We get to know Layla better than the others, and the ballet teacher stands out as the wise adult, but everyone else just seems to be interchangeable, generic kids who respond to everything with “true dat” and “you trippin” (I’m not kidding, that’s like 20% of their dialogue. There’s clearly a lot of tripping going on). The worst of the bunch is ZiZi, who I guess is supposed to be the comic relief, but is incredibly annoying and awkwardly written, like the ballet version of Jar Jar Binks (and now you have that mental image, you’re welcome). Actually all the “humor” included in the novel falls pretty flat. Like when Mercedes (one of the four main characters) tells Layla her yellow butterfly shirt looks like a butterfly about to land in some butter. Ha ha? I guess? Panic needs an audience laugh track so I can know where the jokes are. At least the scary parts are actually scary. Then there are just random annoyances, like all the fat shaming and how a supposedly non-religious dance troupe says a Christian prayer before each performance. It’s not that I have a problem with religious characters or prayer, it just seems weird that they’re ALL the same religion in a supposedly diverse group. Is this like a dance tradition I don’t know about?

Jar Jar Binks, from Star Wars Episode 1, is wearing a silky white ballet outfit and standing en pointe, with his arms raised gracefully above his head. His tutu is covered in sparkles and he’s wearing stain blue shoes on his oddly human looking feet (I basically just put Jar Jar’s torso on top of some human legs).

Enjoy this image in your head.

I know it has won awards, I know it has fans, and I know it’s not that bad, and yes, I even know a lot of my complaints are really nitpicky, but I just can’t get myself to like Panic. Instead, I’d recommend curious readers pick up Pointe by Brandy Colbert, which deals with similar themes, but actually gives us time to get to know the characters and their feelings. It’s about a black ballet dancer trying to cope with childhood sexual abuse after the reappearance of her best friend, who was kidnapped years ago. While it’s not a thriller like Panic, it does have a compelling mystery. Pointe focuses more on the aftermath of the main character’s abuse, rather than abuse itself, and how she learns to deal with what happened. Her path to recovery is a difficult one, but the story ends on a hopeful note.

Tags: African American, Asian American, BIPOC, Black, Book Review, Not for Me, Own Voices, Thriller, Young Adult

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The Mine by Arnab Ray

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Westland (Indian publisher now owned by Amazon)

Genre: Blood & Guts (Gorn), Psychological Horror, Occult

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: South Asian/Desi/Indian, Disabled character (uses a wheelchair due to partial paralysis, mute/Aphonia)

Takes Place in: Thar Desert, Rajasthan, India

Blurb

The greatest evil lies deep inside.

I mean, even I figured out the candy van was a trap after the first 9 or 10 times.

Her name is Lilith, what did you guys expect?

This definitely feels like a stranger danger situation.

Tags: Adult, Asian, BIPOC, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Disability, Eldritch, Indian, Occult, Own Voices, Physical Disability, Psychological Horror, Recommended, South Asian, Speech Disorder

Ten by Gretchen McNeil

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Harper Collins

Genre: Mystery, Psychological Horror, Killer/Slasher

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: African American character, Japanese American character, Asian American character, Samoan character, Bipolar character

Takes Place in: Seattle, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Sexist Language, Abelist Language, Racist Language, Sexism, Mental Illness, Drug Use, Violence, Death

Blurb

SHHHH!
Don’t spread the word!
Three-day weekend. Party at White Rock House on Henry Island.
You do NOT want to miss it.

A liver laceration is a small price to pay to avoid social interaction.

I mean, I’d probably still eat it… but I have problems.

Tags: African American, Asian, Asian American, BIPOC, Black, Book Review, Disability, Killer/Slasher, Mental Illness, Mystery, Pacific Islander, Psychological Horror, Recommended, Young Adult

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Tor

Genre: Eldritch, Monster, Historic Horror, Occult, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature, Y/A

Diversity: Black characters (African American and Caribbean)

Takes Place in: Harlem, New York City, USA

Blurb

People move to New York looking for magic and nothing will convince them it isn’t there.

A storm that might swallow the world is building in Brooklyn. Will Black Tom live to see it break?

Oh Lovecraft, you were such a great horror writer, but an absolutely terrible human being.

I tried to draw Nnedi Okorafor, “tried” being the operative word. She says I got it right from the shoulders up though!

Probably real Lovecraft titles.

The severed human leg actually has nothing to do with why the Feds are here. Though I’m sure my wife is going to ask about that too. Watch what you say on the internet kids!

Tags: Adult, African American, BIPOC, Black, Book Review, Caribbean, Eldritch, Highly Recommended, Historic Horror, Monster, Occult, Own Voices, SciFi, Young Adult

How I Became a Ghost by Tim Tingle

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: The Roadrunner Press

Genre: Ghosts/Haunting, Historic Horror, Werebeast (Were-Panther/Nagual)

Audience: Children

Diversity: American Indian (Choctaw)

Takes Place in: Choctaw Nation, Mississippi, USA

Blurb

Cats are jerks.

I get really caught up on weird details, you’d think I’d be more concerned about the panther reading over my shoulder, but nope.

Tags: American Indian, BIPOC, Book Review, Children, Choctaw, Ghosts/Haunting, Historic Horror, Own Voices, Recommended, Southeast Native Nations, Werebeast

After the People Lights Have Gone Off by Stephen Graham Jones

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Dark House Press

Genre: Monster, Paranormal, Demon, Werewolf, Zombie, Killer/Slasher, Romance, Ghosts/Haunting, Sci-Fi Horror, Psychological Horror, Vampire

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: American Indian (Blackfoot/Niitsitapi), Queer (Gay Men), Disability (Paraplegic)

Takes Place in: USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Child Endangerment, Child Death, Gore, Violence, Death, Torture, Homophobia, Self-Harm, Implied Sexual Assault

Blurb

For Native American Heritage Month I’d thought I’d review a collection of short stories by one of horror’s greatest writers, Stephen Graham Jones.

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have tried watching this movie at 3 AM.

I’m pretty sure it’s the sketchy looking rabbit.

Septa Unella shows up any time someone reveals a spoiler. Or at least, she SHOULD.

Tags: Adult, American Indian, Anthology, BIPOC, Blackfoot, Book Review, Disability, Highly Recommended, LGBTQIA, Own Voices, Plains Native Nations, Romance, vampire

The Jumbies by Tracey Baptiste

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Algonquin Young Readers

Genre: Monster, Myths and Folklore, Supernatural

Audience: Children

Diversity: Afro-Tobagonian and Indo-Tobagonian characters, Character with Speech Disorder (selective mutisim)

Takes Place in: Trinidad and Tobago

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Child Endangerment, Death

Blurb

Thanks for the childhood nightmares Tales of the Caribbean (published by the Wright Group)

Okay, but seriously, what does Disney have against moms?

There’s nothing that makes me feel more inadequate than a kid 20 years my junior who’s tougher than I am.

Tags: Afro-Tobagonian, Asian, BIPOC, Black, Book Review, Caribbean, Children, Disability, Indian, Indo-Tobagonian, Monster, Myths and Folklore, Own Voices, Recommended

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Occult

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Ecuadorian author, Hispanic/Latinx characters, Puerto Rican characters, South Asian character, Bisexual characters

Takes Place in: New York City, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Animal Death, Body Shaming, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Kidnapping, Torture, Violence

Blurb

Nothing says Happy Birthday like summoning the spirits of your dead relatives.

The only way to get her family back is to travel with Nova to Los Lagos, a land in-between, as dark as Limbo and as strange as Wonderland…

Thanks, magic!

THE WORST

A love of triangle actually made me squee for the first time in history.

Tags: BIPOC, Bisexual, Book Review, Dark Fantasy, Ecuadorian, Latine/Latino, LGBTQIA, Occult, Own Voices, Puerto Rican, Recommended, South American, South Asian

Shutter by Courtney Alameda

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Square Fish Books

Genre: Monster, Ghosts/Haunting, Zombie, Vampires, Blood & Guts, Thriller, Horror, Romance

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: POC (Love interest is part Aboriginal Islander, author is Latina), Disability (PTSD)

Takes Place in: type here

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Violence, Gore, Child Death, Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Child Abuse, Sexism, Sexual Harassment/Assault, Torture

Blurb

Lock, stock, and lens, she’s in for one hell of a week.

Great teamwork there.

Forget the incredibly dramatic fight scene, let’s learn about trichromsticism!

I just imagine all annoying video game tutorials as being done by either Navi or the Microsoft Paperclip.

Tags: BIPOC, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Disability, Ghosts/Haunting, Indigenous Australian, Latine/Latino, Mental Illness, Monster, Not for Me, PTSD, Romance, Thriller, Young Adult, Zombies

Everything I Know About Zombies I Learned in Kindergarten by Kevin Wayne Williams

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Mott Haven Books

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Blood & Guts, Zombie

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Black/African American/Caribbean American characters, Trinidad, Jamacian, Hispanic/Latinx characters

Takes Place in: New York City, USA

Blurb

While the cast of this novel is primarily children, the book is intended for adults and contains material unsuitable for younger readers.

Some of the kids enjoy killing a little too much.

I would not last long in an Apocalypse, or even a dead zone. How did I even function back in the 80’s?

Seriously, Jim Crow! WTF were you thinking Disney!?! At least they’re not as bad as Sunflower from Fantasia.

Tags: Adult, African American, Apocalypse/Disaster, BIPOC, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Latine/Latino, Recommended, Zombies

Panic by Sharon Draper

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

Genre: thriller

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: POC (Black, Asian American)

Takes Place in: Western USA

Blurb

From New York Times bestselling author Sharon Draper, this is a riveting exploration of power: how quickly we can lose it—and how we can take it back.

I mean, I’d let a kid read this, so I’m probably not the best judge…

Now I’m going to sit in my chair backwards to show you how “rad” I am.

Enjoy this image in your head.

Tags: African American, Asian American, BIPOC, Black, Book Review, Not for Me, Own Voices, Thriller, Young Adult

« Older Entries

Next Entries »

Navigation

Diverse Book List

Review Policies and Rating Guide

Guide to Content Warnings

About This Blog

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Search by Tags

To learn more about the Age Group, Diversity, and Genre tags, click here.