The White Guy Dies First: 13 Scary Stories of Fear and Power edited by Terry J. Benton-Walker

The White Guy Dies First: 13 Scary Stories of Fear and Power edited by Terry J. Benton-Walker

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Tor Teen

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Dark Fantasy, Eco Horror, Killer/Slasher, Monster, Mystery, Myth and Folklore, Romance

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Black characters and authors, characters of Chinese descent and Chinese New Zealander author, Indigenous characters and author (Seminole), Korean American characters and author, Bisexual characters, Queer women characters, Non-binary character and authors, Ace Spectrum author, MENA character, Bangladeshi-Irish author, Iranian-American author, Latinx characters and author

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Amputation, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Mental Illness, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Vomit

Blurb

13 SCARY STORIES. 13 AUTHORS OF COLOR.
13 TIMES WE SURVIVED THE FIRST KILL.

The White Guy Dies First includes thirteen scary stories by all-star contributors and this time, the white guy dies first.

Killer clowns, a hungry hedge maze, and rich kids who got bored. Friendly cannibals, impossible slashers, and the dead who don’t stay dead….

A museum curator who despises “diasporic inaccuracies.” A sweet girl and her diary of happy thoughts. An old house that just wants friends forever….

These stories are filled with ancient terrors and modern villains, but go ahead, go into the basement, step onto the old plantation, and open the magician’s mystery box because this time, the white guy dies first.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

This is a book that is going to make racists people mad, and I’m here for it. Consider yourself forewarned: if you’re white, this book is not written for you and you’re going to need a thick skin to read it. White people are so used to having positive representation in media that a book where white people make everything worse and always end up dead is going to rub the more sensitive white folks the wrong way, even those who might consider themselves allies. But for the rest of us? It’s awesome and a much-needed subversion of the “Black Guy Dies First” trope. Now, just because the white guy dies first in these stories does not make the BIPOC immune from horrific deaths. Hedge and The Protégé both have Black teens who meet violent ends. A Native person in Best Served Cold is tortured. They’re just not the first to die and get to be main characters.

Many (but not all) of the stories focus on the racism characters face and how often bad things happen to BIPOC people because of the actions of white people. Farz-joon from Break Through Our Skin by Naseem Jamnia is a non-binary, Iranian high school student who desperately wants a Smithosian internship. In order to secure one, they agree to volunteer at the University of Chicago’s Oriental Institute (thankfully, the problematic name was changed to the Institute for the Study of Ancient Culture in 2023) working under a condescending, racist, and transphobic old white professor named Dr. Hudson who thinks he knows more about Iran than Farz does because he’s studied it, speaks Farsi, and actually visited Iran, which Farz has not. He also objects to the Institute’s name change because the original name has “history” and “meaning.” Farz tolerates his boorish behavior so they can fulfill their dream of becoming an archeologist and challenge the idea that gender can be determined from a skeleton alone, but of course Dr. Hudson criticizes their “modern” ideas about gender stating “political correctness has no place in ancient history”, despite historical evidence of gender non-conforming people existing in ancient Iran and bioarchaeologist’s more recent views on sex and gender. Unsurprisingly, it turns out he only hired Farz to give the exhibits a “layer of authenticity” and he’s willing to jeopardize Farz’s future by withholding his recommendation.

Wasps by Mark Oshiro focuses on how gentrification hurts immigrant communities, while Hedge by Kalynn Brown has a topiary garden created by wealthy whites in the 1970s where anyone who enters winds up dead, including the main character’s father. In Grave Grove by Alexis Henderson, a Black teen named Rumi befriends a white Northerner named Kaitlin and she helpsadjust to life in the Southern US. The two even start a podcast together entitled Girls and Ghosts. Their newest episode is about Kyle Adams, a racist who went missing in the eighties after chasing a Black teen, William Jones, into an abandoned plantation. Unfortunately, we quickly learn that Kaitlin is not a good friend to Rumi. She ignores her at school in favor of hanging out with white girls, makes Rumi do all the grunt work for their podcast, and is actually pretty racist for someone who probably considers themselves liberal. She excuses Kyle’s racism because it happened in the past (the 1980s) and “everyone was racist back then.” She thinks William is a “drug dealer” who belongs in prison because he was caught with marijuana, despite smoking weed herself. She views Kyle as the victim, not William. She doesn’t want to talk about the racist history of the plantation or consider the slaves who died there, just the missing white boy. She even mentions her sister’s best friend got married at the plantation, a favorite location for Southern brides (gross). Side note, but I loved that Kaitlin believed in the supernatural while Rumi was the skeptic, since BIPOC are so often cast as superstitious and foolish compared to logical white people. I’m a skeptic myself so it was nice to see a character like me in both Grave Grove and Hell is Other Demons, where the Black main character is an atheist.

Best Served Cold by H. E. Edgmon and The Protégé by Lamar Giles both have the BIPOC main characters get into trouble specifically because they choose to trust a white person. In the former, our protagonist, EJ, makes the mistake of accepting a white man who befriended their brother. EJ struggled with internalized racism throughout their childhood, doing things like using cheap, unsafe contacts from the mall to change their eye color from brown to green. Kai, their brother, tells EJ that those are their ancestor’s eyes, and that their appearance connects them to their ancestry and they should be proud of them. Kai works to reclaim a past that was stolen by colonization (like learning traditional farming and hunting), and teaches EJ about ancestral trauma. EJ realizes the reason they feel angry and frustrated is because they are “playing a game whose rules have never been designed for me to win.” Their mother claims to be white because she passes, even though her grandfather was sent to a residential school in Oklahoma. She denies her heritage. EJ and Kai’s parents grew up together on a reservation in Florida, but moved to Chicago as adults. They told their children they’d left the Rez to give them a better life. Kai brings his white friend (possibly boyfriend) Isaac, who has intense green eyes, to a Pow Wow where the other Natives give him side eye. Clearly, they see something Kai doesn’t (there are other white people there but they don’t face the same level of scrutiny). One of the community leaders talks about MMIWC (Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Children) which serves as foreshadowing. It’s implied that the antagonist in the story is a certain evil spirit from Algonquian mythology (one who’s associated with winter and cannibalism). Edgmon is Seminole, not one of the Algonquian tribes, but he writes with respect, never breaking the taboo of using the spirits name which is said to summon it. This particular creature is also a perfect representation of colonialism with its insatiable hunger and destructive nature.  Kai and EJ do everything they can to fight colonialism but still fall victim to the evil spirit.

The Protégé by Lamar Giles, like Best Served Cold, is a particularly tragic story with the main character, Troy’s, life ruined by his best friend, in this case an older, white gentleman named Jack Meridian. Jack is a retired magician who’s been mentoring Troy in the art of card tricks and illusions, and one of the young teen’s only friends. Troy so admires the older man that he immediately agrees to do him a favor, accepting a package while Jack runs errands downtown. Simple enough, right? While Troy’s older brother Darius is having a party with his friends, Troy sees that the news is reporting a mass killing at the mall where Jack was heading. He tries to contact his magician mentor but the person who killed him answers the phone and threatens Troy if he doesn’t give them the package he received. The killer is revealed to be Danford Dread, a magician who “perverts” the art and performs dark and gory magic that “plays to the worst in people.” And now he’s after Troy and his brother. Even though the white guy in this story is a “good guy” he still ruins a Black boy’s life by bringing him into his world and putting him directly into danger.

In Hell is Other Demons by Karen Strong, the main character is killed (she spends most of the story as a ghost) because her crush’s white boyfriend starts meddling with the supernatural and summons a demon. The other stories of dating a white boy don’t end with dead young women, but they do highlight the perils of interracial dating, namely that white men often fetishize non-white women. I mean, just look how BIPOC women have their own categories on porn sites (gross). Obviously not all mixed-race relationships are problematic; my parents are a mixed-race couple, my sister has an amazing Chilean fiancé (who is himself biracial), and I’m friends with happily married couples in mixed relationships. Unfortunately, there are always bad apples.

In both the Golden Dragon by Kendare Blake and Docile Girls by Chloe Gong, Korean-American Sophie and Chinese-I-think-American-but-possibly-New-Zealander Adelaid are dumped by their white boyfriends (and subsequently lose all the white people they thought were their friends) who fetishized them but don’t view them as committed relationship material. As Sophie’s sister puts it, they’re an exotic bang to mark off their “international bang bingo card.” Even after she gets dumped, Adelaid’s ex sees her as too weak and docile to be the killer who’s been stalking the teens, an assumption that proves fatal for him. This is unfortunately common, as all the East Asian-American women I know I can attest to. When they’re sexually harassed, it almost always has racist undertones. They’ve been propositioned by white men looking for “submissive waifus,” had “me so horny” shouted at them, asked if they have sideways vaginas, or “complimented” on their “exotic” beauty. White men have long fetishized East Asian women, with examples dating as far back as 1898 with the book Madame Butterfly. A Columbia University study from 2007 showed that in online dating, White men seemed to have a strong preference for Asian women when it came to hookups, but when they wanted a committed relationship, they preferred white women. Meanwhile, Black women, especially those with dark skin, are considered less desirable than women of other races.

In All Eyes on Me by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé main character Helen deals with a white boyfriend, Asher, who is constantly committing microaggressions. He mocks her kinky hair, and implies she can’t be an actress because she’s Black and not a “bombshell.”  Yet Helen still feels guilty about wanting to break up with Asher because everyone else considers him the perfect, all-American boy. And as a Black girl she’s supposed to be grateful that a white boy wants her, even though being tied down to him and trapped in their small town forever sounds like a nightmare. Fortunately for all three girls, they end their stories without being tied down by their racist exes.

Not all the stories in the collection are focused on race and racism, however. The Road to Hell by Terry Benton-Walker has a very original set up, exploring an abusive relationship between a haunted house and a family living it with the house as the abuser. Everything’s Coming Up Roses by Tiffany D. Jackson is about a mentally unwell girl named Leesa who is obsessed with gardening and documents her daily life in her journal. Leesa is an unreliable narrator and the true horror is slowly revealed over the course of the story. Like most anthologies, the quality of the stories varies, but none that I would have rated below three out of five stars. Some were good, others, like Everything’s Coming Up RosesGray Grove, and Best Served Cold, were great. It’s also worth noting that many of the stories are VERY gory, which may be too much for younger teens who aren’t big horror fans. Of course, since most horror fans were reading Stephen King when they were eight, I don’t foresee this being an issue for anyone who decides to read this book.

The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum

The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: ECW Press

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Sci-Fi

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Indian Canadian author and characters

Takes Place in: BC, Canada

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Racism

Blurb

The small-town mysteries of John Bellairs are made modern with a dash of Stranger Things in this spine-tingling supernatural horror-thriller After his father returns from treatment for addiction, highschooler Vish ― lover of metal music and literature ― is uncertain what the future holds. It doesn’t help that everyone seems to know about the family’s troubles, and they stand out doubly as one of the only brown families in town. When Vish is mistaken for a relative of the weird local bookseller and attacked by an unsettling pale man who seems to be decaying, he is pulled into the world of the occult, where witches live in television sets, undead creatures can burn with a touch, and magic is mathematical. Vish must work with the bookstore owner and his mysterious teenage employee, Gisela, to stop an interdimensional invasion that would destroy their peaceful town. Bringing together scares, suspense, and body horror, The Grimmer is award-winning author Naben Ruthnum’s first foray into the young adult genre. This gripping ride through the supernatural is loaded with vivid characters, frightening imagery, and astonishing twists, while tackling complex issues such as grief, racism, and addiction.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

It’s 1996, and Vish Maurya is finally returning from his Vancouver Island boarding school to his home of Kelowna, BC (where Ruthnum grew up). Normally, he’d spend the summer playing music with his best friends, Danny and Matt Pearson, but they’re no longer on speaking terms after the brothers told their music teacher about Vish’s father’s opioid addiction. Somehow, the entire school found out and Vish was sent away to boarding school while his father went to detox and worked on his recovery. Now he spends his days in his room brooding and pretending everything at is normal at home.

Kelwona is very white, and it’s hard for Vish being one of the only Indian kids. Other children do imitations of his parents’ Indian accents (never mind that neither of them has a strong accent). They joke that his beautiful mother is a mail-order bride or make snide remarks about arranged marriages because “there was no way someone that beautiful would willingly end up with someone who looked like his dad.” Parents tell him how much they love butter chicken and samosas. So, it’s a relief when Vish meets another Indian person, a cool but sick-looking young man named Agastya who runs a bookstore called Greycat books. A shop I would totally visit for the name alone if it existed in the real world. There’s even a shop cat named Moby. Little does he know that Agastya, a punk teen named Gisela, and a strange man named Mr. Farris are about to change his life forever.

And this is where the book veers into a mix of dark fantasy and science-fiction à la a Wrinkle in Time. Mr. Farris is a nachzehrer, an undead creature from German folklore that is said to be able to drain its victim’s lifeforce. Gisela is also a 700-year-old German witch, but somehow still 16 so it’s totally not creepy for Vish to harbor a crush on her because they’re technically the same age due to magic and time travel. She gave me the impression of a punk version of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, that is, a woman who exists only to help and fulfil the male protagonists. She rescues her love interest from his own boring life and guides him to become a better version of himself. Gisela at least has her own motivations and desires, using Vish to stop the antagonist, but her “not like other girls” vibes still grated on me. I also didn’t like how Agastya and Gisela keep promising to tell Vish everything, then would end up dropping new, horrible surprises on him. You can hardly blame him for getting frustrated with them. They would act like they cared, but then seemed to be only interested in using poor Vish.

I found the Grimmer’s magic system confusing, somehow both extremely detailed and vague. Despite multiple explanations of both magic and magical beings I still had no idea how everything worked (something to do with very complex math and physics?). All this seemed to do was make the book feel unnecessarily drawn out. Kudos to Ruthnum for putting so much thought into his world, but I would’ve liked to have seen less world building and more character development, especially for Gisela. I could have also used more horror, given that the book is advertised as horror, though what little there was felt genuinely creepy.

Although The Grimmer takes place in the 90s, it avoids relying too much on nostalgia or making a plethora of pop culture references that might alienate its young adult audience. I liked how the book dealt so deftly with heavy topics like racism and addiction and showed the adults as imperfect. I like that Vish’s father, a well-educated psychiatrist, struggles with drug addiction while we see Agastya, a successful book store owner, abuse alcohol to help cope with the death of his wife.

Anyone can suffer from a substance use disorder, including a successful doctor and family man like Vish’s father, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at most media. At my day job, I work with patients struggling with substance use disorder (SUD), and half the battle is confronting the stigma surrounding addiction. Stereotypes about those with SUD include being “bad” people who can’t hold down jobs, live in squalor, have no meaningful relationships, are uneducated (often drop outs) and choose to be this way. Often, I will hear patients tearfully tell me that they’re not bad people, not like those other “addicts.” They’re afraid we’ll judge them, even though they suffer from a disease that can affect anyone, because the stereotypes surrounding addiction are so pervasive. Unfortunately, their fears aren’t unfounded because even in healthcare addiction carries a lot of stigma and providers will treat these patients as “lesser.” Some patients can’t even admit they have a problem because they don’t fit the mold of what they think someone with SUD looks like. They have a successful job, a family, they own their own house, they go to church, etc. so they can’t possibly be someone with an addiction. Their inability to accept reality (of course) makes recovery even harder. The fanciful aspects of The Grimmer were hit and miss for me, and I felt like Giselle could have been a stronger character, but the book was solid and the more serious issues (grief, addiction, racism) were all handled well and were, for me at least, the strongest parts of the story. 

Out on a Limb by Luis Paredes

Out on a Limb by Luis Paredes

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Platypus Book Press

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Mystery

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Mexican-American main character and author

Takes Place in: New York City

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

Blurb

How many perverts d’ya think sucked on those toes before the police rolled in?”

With that question, Out On a Limb kicks off an irreverent, foul-mouthed, and horrific urban fantasy noir series following the exploits of private occult investigators Rebecca Suarez and Peyton Marx. In this fast-paced novella that readers can devour in an afternoon, Rebecca and Peyton are stumped by their strangest case yet–a tree growing human legs.

The dangling gams become the least of their concerns when nearby trees start consuming more than just carbon dioxide. Now the investigators must use their powers and the NYPD’s magical tech to find the mage responsible for this heinous crime and stop a bloody disaster from creeping across the Empire State.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

As those of you who follow my Twitter (I refuse to call it by that other name) know, I have a rabbit named Aramis who enjoys violence and horror movies. She thinks more horror should have rabbits in it, especially rabbits that murder people like in Night of the Lepus. So, Aramis was very excited that Out on a Limb has a Holland lop as a main character. But this rabbit doesn’t murder anyone. She’s a heroic rabbit, albeit a foul mouthed and very sassy one (much like Aramis would be if she could speak) named Peyton Marx.

Ten years ago a statue of Hecate walked out of a museum in Greece, and magic was brought into the world. Thousands of people (and some animals, like Peyton) found themselves gifted with different types of magical abilities. There are different types of magic, and people can specialize in more than one kind. Unfortunately, magical powers were distributed randomly which means criminals also ended up with magical abilities. And that’s where Peyton and her human partner, Rebecca Suarez, come in.

Rebecca and Peyton are struggling, private occult investigators who specialize in unexplained paranormal phenomena (UPP) and hunt down magical criminals using their own array of charms and spells. The story starts with Rebecca and Peyton arriving in Queens, having been called in by the police to assist on a particularly strange crime, an oak tree full of human legs. Clearly the work of an incantation (possibly one that backfired), but who cast it is unclear.

Out on a Limb is a fun, quick read filled with lore and humor. I also liked all the rabbit-y things Peyton does like binkies when she’s happy or getting offended when a child points out that rabbits eat their own poop. The world building is exquisite, and there’s a surprising amount of it for such a short novella, but not so much that you feel overwhelmed with information. The relationship between Rebecca and Peyton is cute, and much of the humor comes from how they play off each other. While this novella leans more towards dark fantasy then straight horror it’s still creepy enough that most horror fans should enjoy it. 

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me by Jamison Shea

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me by Jamison Shea

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Mystery, Occult, Thriller

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Black main character and author, bisexual main character

Takes Place in: Paris, France

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Body Shaming, Bullying, Death, Racism, Self Harm, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

There will be blood.

Ace of Spades meets House of Hollow in this villain origin story.

Laure Mesny is a perfectionist with an axe to grind. Despite being constantly overlooked in the elite and cutthroat world of the Parisian ballet, she will do anything to prove that a Black girl can take center stage. To level the playing field, Laure ventures deep into the depths of the Catacombs and strikes a deal with a pulsating river of blood.

The primordial power Laure gains promises influence and adoration, everything she’s dreamed of and worked toward. With retribution on her mind, she surpasses her bitter and privileged peers, leaving broken bodies behind her on her climb to stardom.

But even as undeniable as she is, Laure is not the only monster around. And her vicious desires make her a perfect target for slaughter. As she descends into madness and the mystifying underworld beneath her, she is faced with the ultimate choice: continue to break herself for scraps of validation or succumb to the darkness that wants her exactly as she is—monstrous heart and all. That is, if the god-killer doesn’t catch her first.

From debut author Jamison Shea comes I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me, a slow-burn horror that lifts a veil on the institutions that profit on exclusion and the toll of giving everything to a world that will never love you back.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

I went into I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast is Me expecting Laure to be an unlikeable female protagonist (something I actually enjoy in a story), but I was not prepared for just how relatable she was. If I ever become a supervillain, my origin story will be me finally getting fed up with all the bigotry and microaggressions I have to deal with every day and deciding to get even, rather than continuing to either educate or ignore the people hurting me. And that’s exactly what Laure does. Can you blame her? Every other ballerina in her company is rich and white, with powerful parents just dripping with privilege. The ballet is cutthroat, with ballerinas actively trying to sabotage each other (dancers often finds glass and tacks in their ballet shoes) and praying for one another’s downfall, and Laure is at a distinct disadvantage. Even though she works the hardest and performs the best of all of them, she’ll always be the Black girl who has to steal to pay for her tights. So, she cheats to level the playing field. Once she does, her talent and hard work is immediately rewarded. And honestly? It’s cathartic to watch Laure stoop to the level of the other ballerinas and their awful parents. It is SO exhausting to always have to be the bigger person in the face of abuse. I may agree with Michelle Obama’s “When they go low, we go high,” but I still don’t like having to “go high” when I would rather be a petty asshole. So, in a purely fictional world? It’s wonderfully satisfying to watch a Black woman choose the role of the villain and get even with all those rich white girls.

Ballet is still one of the least diverse performing arts, fraught with racism that ranges from subtle to overt. This is especially true in Europe. In her book Turning Pointe, Chloe Angyal discusses ballet’s racism problem. She describes an encounter with a racist dance mom and her implied message to her daughter: “[Black dancers are] not really good, but they are allowed to be here. In this space that is rightfully yours, in this art form that is rightfully yours. They’re never as good as the white girls, a sweeping generalization that grants no individuality, no humanity, to any nonwhite dancer. They’re all the same, and they never deserve to be here. But don’t worry. Your excellence is a given. You belong here, while their presence is conditional or even ill-gotten.” I think this quote sums up Laure’s struggles beautifully. The only difference is that these are struggles faced by real dancers.

Even something as simple as buying pointe shoes is no easy task for Black dancers. Most dance garments are traditionally “European pink,” and don’t match darker skin tones. Black ballerinas often have to pancake their shoes in dark foundation to match their skin tone and dye their tutus and tights. It’s only recently that brands like Capezio, Freed of London, and Bloch have offered shoes in darker skin tones. In the book Laure must purchase her own ballet shoes and tights because the ballet will only pay for pink ones. Black bodies are also discriminated against in ballet. In an interview with Sheila Rohan the Black ballet dancer described racism in ballet. “Racism in the ballet arts… meant people would make remarks about the Black ballerinas’ bodies — such as their chests being ‘too busty’ or their thighs being ‘too thick.’” A Black dancer in Berlin was told to lighten her skin with white makeup in order to play a song in Swan Lake. Laure straightens and gels her curly hair into place so she won’t stand out from the other dancers, but is still told she’s too “exotic” for a French ballet by a drunk patron. The controversial ballet La Bayadère was performed in Blackface by Russian dancers (white dancers have also worn stereotypical clothing and makeup to portray Roma and Chinese characters). The same ballet put on by Laure’s company in which she plays a shade.

After being abandoned by both parents, Laure’s only source of support is her best (and only) friend, Coralie, who is… not great. She’s kind and supportive of Laure, yes, but she’s also a subpar ballerina who just assumes she’ll get a spot in Paris’ prestigious ballet due to her famous mother. She’s essentially an entitled slacker and just as oblivious to her privilege as the other rich white girls. Coralie is also a snob, turning her nose up at anything that doesn’t come with a high price tag, which grates on permanently broke Laure’s nerves. Coralie really does seem to love her best friend, but their relationship comes with a power imbalance. So, she does not take it well when that balance of power shifts and Laure starts beating her out for roles. Because she has no one else, Laure is terrified of losing her only friend (as difficult as she can be), that is until she meets the étoile of the ballet, Josephine. Josephine gives her friendship freely without expecting anything in return, and treats Laure as an equal. She introduces Laure to her friends and shows her how she too can become an étoile. Slowly, Laure starts to see what a true friendship is like and begins to pull away from Coralie, although she still refuses to drop her completely and makes excuses for the wealthy girl’s bad behavior. I liked that while Laure does pursue a romance with a man later in the book, the story is mostly focused on her female friendships. It’s also a nice change of pace to see a toxic platonic, non-familial relationship explored. I don’t think enough people talk about how friendships can be abusive and how hard “breaking up” with a friend can be.

Another interesting theme in I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast is Me is the idea of “perfection.” As a burned-out former “gifted kid” I know what it’s like to be expected to be perfect, then destroy yourself trying to do the impossible and ultimately have a mental breakdown when you realize perfection can never be achieved, and therefore that makes you a “failure.” The ballet expects Laure and her peers to be no less than perfect, and anyone who doesn’t make the cut is thrown aside and forgotten. While Coralie can get by half-assing it because of her mother, Laure must be the best there is to even think of if she wants to compete with the others. And it means giving up everything. This kind of perfectionism is extremely damaging to your mental health. Laure also believes that acceptance and respect from the others is entirely dependent on being perfect, not realizing she deserves respect regardless of her performance.

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast is Me is one of those books that I absolutely devoured. It held my attention throughout the story (no small feat when you have ADHD), save for a short part in the middle that felt like it was dragging. But other than that small criticism I can’t think of anything negative to say about this book. It’s a unique setting for a horror story, and a fresh spin on a Faustian bargain narrative. 

House of Pungsu by K.P. Kulski

House of Pungsu by K.P. Kulski

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Bizarro Pulp Press

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Ghosts/Haunting, Gothic

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Korean-American author, Korean characters

Takes Place in: Korea

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Child Death, Death, Sexism, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

“As sharp as broken pottery and as delicate as a peony petal, House of Pungsu is the story my spirit hungered for. K.P. Kulski shifts rice paper doors to reveal the darkest truth.”—Lee Murray, USA Today bestselling author and four-time Bram Stoker Award® winner.

No one knows what’s beyond the walls of the Joseon-era palace that never seems to decay, a sprawling complex where daughter, mother, and grandmother are the only inhabitants. Why is her bed-bound grandmother locked in her room each night, and what exactly is behind the locked doors of the palace pavilions and halls? When daughter unexpectedly begins to menstruate, she is tormented with dreams that drive her to find answers.

Following the Korean folk story of “A Tiger’s Whisker,” HOUSE OF PUNGSU is a feminist meditation on women’s inner identity and the struggle to rediscover it.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

 
House of Pungsu is a dark, feminist fairy tale about a young woman finding her own identity and power. It is the story of three women–daughter, mother, and grandmother–living in an uninhabited palace in Joseon where time stands still and nothing changes. None of the women have names and are only defined by their roles in relation to each other. Grandmother, mother, and daughter reflect the triple goddess archetype (the maiden, the mother, and the crone) or the three stages of growth. Ironic since they are trapped in a world where time doesn’t move, and the maiden is unable to become the mother. That is, until Daughter experiences her first period and time slowly begins to affect the palace again. Rain falls once more and the fruit on the trees begins to rot.

Daughter does not remember her real name or her past, only that she is someone’s daughter. She is full of barely contained rebellious spirit and hope for the future, but she is bound by duty to be obedient and quiet, a “tame tiger.”  “Their lives an animal within me that growls… a wild thing that wants to bite its tether yet I do nothing to free it. Instead, I stand very still, say little, and wait for the fury to subside.” Mother is bitter and pessimistic, though still hopes her daughter can one day leave the palace while still believing it impossible. It’s implied she was once the wife of an emperor and not allowed her own hopes, dreams, and aspirations beyond pleasing her husband and bearing his children. Daughter believes that grandmother is confined to her bed, just as she and mother are confined to the palace, but mother has to lock grandmother in at night, and someone locks the other side of the door. At night, growling and commotion can be heard from the bedroom. It seems grandmother is not as helpless or trapped as she seems, a wild tiger locked up for the safety of mother and daughter. 

A drawing of a woman in a hanbok serving a bowl of meat and rice to a tiger

The tiger motif is repeated throughout the book, as tigers are strongly associated with Korea and found repeatedly throughout Korean folklore. Kulski draws inspiration from one such folktale, The Tiger’s Whisker, a folktale about living with someone who suffers from PTSD. It emphasizes the diligence and patience you must have when working with someone with complex trauma. While on its surface the story seems to be a heartwarming tale of helping a loved one, Kulski notes that the burden is put on the wife to help her husband and have patience when he’s angry and abusive. The wife exists only to help her husband and is expected to suffer with him. In many versions of the tale, she is not even given her own name. And so Kulski creates her own ending, instead focusing on the wife overcoming the fear of the tiger and the husband that once held her back. She asks the question, “What would happen if you released the full ferocity of the tiger rather than tame it?”

Children of Chicago by Cynthia Pelayo

Children of Chicago by Cynthia Pelayo

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Agora

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Demon, Killer/Slasher, Myth and Folklore, Thriller

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Bisexual main character, Puerto Rican main character and author, Latine characters

Takes Place in: Chicago, IL, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Child Death, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Illness, Kidnapping, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse, Police Harassment, Suicide, Violence

Blurb

This horrifying retelling of the Pied Piper fairytale set in present-day Chicago is an edge of your seat, chills up the spine, thrill ride. ‪ When Detective Lauren Medina sees the calling card at a murder scene in Chicago’s Humboldt Park neighborhood, she knows the Pied Piper has returned. When another teenager is brutally murdered at the same lagoon where her sister’s body was found floating years before, she is certain that the Pied Piper is not just back, he’s looking for payment he’s owed from her. Lauren’s torn between protecting the city she has sworn to keep safe, and keeping a promise she made long ago with her sister’s murderer. She may have to ruin her life by exposing her secrets and lies to stop the Pied Piper before he collects.

And I chiefly use my charm
On creatures that do people harm,
The mole and toad and newt and viper;
And people call me the Pied Piper.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning (1812-1889)

“The Pied Piper of Hamelin”by Augustin von Mörsperg, 1592

My dad was born and raised on the Southside Chicago and will tell anyone who will listen that his birthplace is the best city in the world. My wife, on the other hand, firmly believes Chicago is akin to LA in the ‘90s. When I did finally manage to lure her there with the promise of deep-dish pizza and the Museum of Science and Industry she did admit the Windy City was a pretty cool place and not at scary as she was expecting (even after we stumbled onto an illegal street race). Although the crime rate there is higher than the national average, Chicago is hardly the crime and drug filled dystopia my wife and other outsiders seem to believe it is. In fact, its violent crime rates are far lower than those of Anchorage, Wichita, and Milwaukee. The dangerous reputation may have come from Chicago’s fascinating history of crime, gangsters, and serial killers or even the many tragedies that have befallen the White City in the past. Modern-day boogiemen like the Lipstick Killer, John Wayne Gacy, the Ripper Crew, and Richard Speck all called Chicago their home. The Blue Beard-esque H. H. Holmes built his murder castle in Englewood. The city’s most notorious gangster, Al Capone, has morphed into something of a folk hero and tragedies like the Great Chicago Fire and the Haymarket affair have taken on almost a legendary status. Dark rumors surround the abandoned Edgewater Medical Center. Stories like these have shaped Chicago’s history and how it’s perceived by the rest of the country: a gothic city haunted by the past. But darkness and death aren’t all the city has to offer.

Fairy tales, at least the original versions and not the Disney-fied ones, are often a child’s first introduction to the world of horror. Beautiful and sinister stories full of threats of death and assault, mutilation, hungry wolves, and dark forests have been used to frighten children for generations. Fairy tales are beautiful roses and sharp thorns, poisonous treats, beauty and blood. They also share many of the same elements as gothic fiction. Sometime in the distant past, a helpless woman is placed in a dark and dangerous setting (now a castle instead of a forest), where she is threatened by supernatural forces until rescued by the hero. Orphans and peasant girls are made to suffer before finally coming into riches. Animals no longer speak, but still bring portents of doom. Nature is wild, dangerous, and unpredictable. Both have themes of revenge, isolation, rags to riches, abuse, and women who are under constant threat as the men in her life fight over her body. Bluebeard, and other versions of the Aarne–Thompson type 312 tale, are the perfect example of a gothic fairy tale. In the story a woman leaves her family to marry a mysterious stranger and goes to live in his isolated and lonely castle. But locked away in a castle is a dark and dangerous secret. The wife can go in any room, but one, which contains the bodies of the stranger’s previous, murdered wives.

In the original version of Cinderella, the Little Mermaid, and Sleeping Beauty, the step sisters cut off parts of their feet and birds pecked out their eyes, the mermaid’s tongue was cut out and every step she took on land was agony, and Sleeping Beauty was raped and impregnated with twins by a married king while she slept.

Cynthia Pelayo draws on the city’s history to create her gothic urban fairy tale, Children of Chicago. The city stands in for the dark forest, a vaguely supernatural setting where unwary children disappear and gang members prowl the street like big bad wolves. The book follows recently orphaned Lauren Medina, a deeply troubled police detective hunting a serial killer known only as The Pied Piper– a shadowy boogeyman who preys on children then vanishes into the night. It’s rumored he can be summoned by burning a black candle and speaking a spell in front of a mirror. Throughout the story, Lauren is unstable and brimming over with barely-contained emotion, a staple of any good Gothic tale, as she wrestles with her missing memories of her sister’s death. Lauren breaks the typical female fairy tale mold where women were relegated to witches, wise women, virginal damsels, and evil stepmothers. She’s not exactly evil, but she isn’t pure and heroic either, instead she’s but a rare example of a female Byronic hero intentionally written to be tragic, unlikeable, morally gray, and hiding a dark past, much like the heroes found in gothic horror. In fact, few of the women in the story fall into any of the aforementioned roles. Stepmothers aren’t necessarily evil, even if their angry stepdaughters perceive them as such. Damsels in distress may possess more agency than they seem to, and villainous women can also be victims. I genuinely enjoyed seeing a female character (who wasn’t intended to be liked) embrace her darkness and struggle with her morality. Just as much horror came from Lauren’s psychological trauma and instability as it did from the threat of the supernatural.

While Lauren initially came across as “the young female cop with a dark past and something to prove” trope (aka Jodie Foster in Silence of the Lambs), it soon became clear that unlike Clarice Starling, we’re not necessarily supposed to root for her. And unlike every maverick detective in an ‘80s buddy-cop comedy, Lauren’s flagrant disregard for the rules in order to get her guy aren’t justified, but instead dangerous and unjust. Though, much like police in the real world, she’s able to get away with it. I appreciate that Pelayo avoided turning her crime drama into “copaganda” by making Lauren a protagonist, but not a hero. I admit I used to enjoy shows like Brooklyn 99Lucifer, and Law & Order SVU (yes, I’m old) even though I recognized how incredibly problematic they were. But ever since 2020 I’ve more or less lost my taste for any media that portrays a corrupt system as a heroic force for good, justified in flouting the law. It no longer feels like harmless fantasy when you realize how many people actually believe that cop shows reflect real life and officers only target “bad guys” as oppose to anyone they don’t like (mostly BIPOC, the poor, and the mentally ill). So, reading a crime story where the police weren’t heroes was a relief. In fact, Lauren’s only redeeming quality is that she has a soft spot for troubled teens, ever since the mysterious death of her own sister.

Brimming with references to Chicago’s history, it’s clear that Pelayo loves her home while still recognizing its flaws. In fact, the novel feels just as much a crime story as it does a guide to the dark and fantastical parts of the Windy City. She holds a Master of Fine Arts in Writing from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago and it shows in her writing. Throughout Children of Chicago Pelayo references the original, dark versions of famous and not-so famous fairytales, from Cinderella to the Singing Bone, adding to her own story’s dark atmosphere balancing on the edge of reality and fantasy. Pelayo’s novel is full of missing mothers, an unjust society where the most vulnerable suffer, magic mirrors, plenty of gore, spells, and a moral message. But overall, it’s a subversion of the classic fairy tale formula where the good are rewarded, the evil are punished, and morality is clearly defined. In Children of Chicago the “heroes” are neither pure-hearted nor moral, evil escapes justice while the innocent suffer, and no one is getting a happy ending.

It’s unfortunate that the darkest parts of Chicago’s history have shaped so much of its reputation when the Windy City has so much to offer. As my wife soon discovered on her first visit, the city is full or art, beauty, and wonder. Pelayo doesn’t just show the city’s dark side, she shows its magic as well. “Fairy tales are in our blood as Chicagoans” one of the books characters explains. Walt DisneyL. Frank BaumRay Bradbury, and Gwnedolyn Brooks were all inspired by the city to create their own fairy tales. Colleen Moore created her famous Fairy Castle and donated it to The Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. Children gathered pennies to create the Rock-a-Bye Lady from Eugene Field’s poem. The haunting beauty of the SheddAquarium feels like you’ve stepped into another world. The city even has a secret Little Mermaid inspired bar! It’s this beauty, contrasted with the allure of danger, that makes Chicago as wonderous as any fairytale.

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova

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.

The Gauntlet by Karuna Riazi

The Gauntlet by Karuna Riazi

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Salaam Reads

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Demon

Audience: Children

Diversity: South Asian characters, Bangladeshi characters, Middle Eastern characters,  character with a Cognitive/Learning Disability/ADHD

Takes Place in: New York City, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Child Endangerment, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Violence 

Blurb

A trio of friends from New York City find themselves trapped inside a mechanical board game that they must dismantle in order to save themselves and generations of other children in this action-packed debut that’s a steampunk Jumanji with a Middle Eastern flair.

When twelve-year-old Farah and her two best friends get sucked into a mechanical board game called The Gauntlet of Blood and Sand—a puzzle game akin to a large Rubik’s cube—they know it’s up to them to defeat the game’s diabolical architect in order to save themselves and those who are trapped inside, including her baby brother Ahmed. But first they have to figure out how.

Under the tutelage of a lizard guide named Henrietta Peel and an aeronaut Vijay, Farah and her friends battle camel spiders, red scorpions, grease monkeys, and sand cats as they prepare to face off with the maniacal Lord Amari, the man behind the machine. Can they defeat Amari at his own game…or will they, like the children who came before them, become cogs in the machine?

Belated Eid Mubarak! I hope all my Muslim readers had a happy Eid Al-Fitr, and that Ramadan brought you peace and prosperity. In the spirit of the holiday I decided to review this gorgeous children’s chapter book from Salaam Reads. Like the blurb said, The Gauntlet is basically a Middle Eastern steampunk Jumanji, and it’s SO cool. The story is overflowing with creative ideas: clockwork monkeys, liquid moonlight, giant games of Mancala played in the graveyard, the dream gardens, and the dark carnival Lailat (Arabic for “nights”). It reminded me of the Wizard of Oz combined with the PC adventure puzzle games from my childhood. It’s educational, but in a fun way that doesn’t break the flow of the story. I found myself frequently running to Google so I could learn more about Islam, or Bangladeshi and Middle Eastern cultures, or to look up what chenna murki was (and now I want to eat it). And there were even fun little references to Labyrinth and the Bollywood film, Paheli snuck in there. The book is bursting with creativity and originality, and has so much potential, but it could have been a lot better. Maybe this is a nitpicky complaint, but everything in the book felt too rushed, and it seriously marred an otherwise flawless novel. To be fair, this is Riazi’s first book, so it’s understandable that it still has some rough spots, and I have no doubt we’ll see even more amazing work from her as she hones her craft. But for now, Riazi’s work still needs more polishing and refinement before it can really shine.

The first image shows a rough, green gem and has been labeled “Rough Draft” in fancy gold lettering. The second image is of the same green gem, now polished labeled “The Gauntlet”. The final image shows a bird’s eye view of the green gem, finally cut into a “round brilliant” shape. This is labeled “Riazi’s future work?”

When I say everything felt rushed I don’t mean in a thrilling, “we have to retrieve the McGuffin before time runs out” sort of way. Instead, it’s more “Riazi had a rapidly approaching deadline and had to cut out half of the story to meet it”. Which sucks, because I really wanted to spend more time appreciating all the little details put into the world of Paheli (which is Hindi for “riddle”). There were all these amazing ideas in the story that never got to be fully explored or realized, and it’s really unfortunate. For example, the book’s description mentions “Sand Cats”, but they never make an appearance in the story itself. What gives? Was it cut out at the last minute? And everything in the story went by so fast it made some parts difficult to follow, and never gave the suspense a chance to build. Farah and her friends solved each challenge before I even got a chance to think “Oh no, will they make it?” Even the editing seems rushed. At one point “tail” is written as “tale”, words will frequently get repeated as if the author changed a sentence without deleting the old one, and there are some grammar errors. It’s not Cacy and Kiara bad, but there are enough mistakes that it makes me wonder how closely the editor reviewed The Gauntlet before publication. So it’s reasonable to assume many of the book’s problems may have been due to a looming deadline rather than Riazi’s writing, but that will only be revealed by reading her future work (and oh man, I hope this book gets a sequel). That, or the walrus who edited Cacy and Kiara somehow got involved.

A native Hawaiian woman in a red dress grabs her hair in frustration while looking at a stack of papers. There is a walrus wearing a hat sitting next to her. He has a goofy grin, unfocused eyes, and his tongue is hanging out with drool dripping from it. The exasperated woman yells “Wait, did you just submit this? It’s only the second draft, I wasn’t done editing it, why would you send this to production?!?” The walrus happily blows a raspberry. The woman scolds him “bad walrus, bad!”

I just assume all bad editing decisions are made by walruses.

Another issue with having a story that feels rushed is that there’s not enough time to get to know the characters, and the characters all seemed really interesting too! Well, except for Farah’s little brother, Ahmed. His character just seemed unnecessary and annoying. So, SO annoying. Like, D.W. from Arthur, but less entertaining. Farah and her friends could have just as easily gotten sucked into the game on their own, and there’s already enough suspense trying to survive and complete the challenges in Paheli that forcing Farah to try and find her little brother on top of that just seems excessive.  It’s also hard to feel any sympathy for a character, when nearly every memory Farah has of her little brother involves him being obnoxious and bratty. So kudos to her. If I had to deal with Ahmed, I would’ve fed the little brat to a mechanical camel spider or whatever, or left his butt in the middle of the desert. But hey, that’s why I’m not a Y/A protagonist. Lucky for Ahmed, Farah has much more patience than I do.

I’m reclining on a red chaise longue, drinking from a crystal goblet and casually flipping through a magazine. I’m barefoot and wearing sunglasses, shorts, and a tank top. A child screams off screen “I’m being eaten by a giant spider, help!!!” To which I apathetically respond “Eh, I would… but that sounds like a lot of effort, plus it’s really hot and my back kind of hurts…” At this point the child yells “Ahhhhhhh!” and I complain “Ugh, why are you so noisy?”

I’m sure he’ll be fine.

Now, in all likelihood, my strong dislike of Ahmed is due to my own bias. I was the oldest of four, and I HATED taking care of my younger siblings with the fiery passion of a thousand blue giant stars (Y’know, because blue stars are hotter than our yellow sun? Look, if I had to learn all these useless facts then so do you!) To this day, I’d still rather get a root canal with a rusty drill from Dr. Szell (okay… no one in this book’s age group has seen that film, have they? I’m just vomiting random trivia at this point) than watch someone’s kid. So the idea of taking care of a bratty younger brother without being forced and not hating every minute of it is completely foreign to me. I mean, my version of “watching” my siblings was to basically go “Meh, there are enough of you that mom probably won’t miss one or two kids. I’m going to go take a nap.” (They all managed to survive to adulthood by the way.) So it’s more than possible my disbelief stems from not being able to relate to someone who’s actually a good older sister. But I still think Farah just has an unnatural amount of patience. Even Sara, from Labyrinth, wanted the Goblin King to take her baby brother, and he wasn’t nearly as annoying as Ahmed.Other than being weirdly tolerant of Ahmed, Farah is a pretty awesome character. She’s brave, resourceful, and incredibly clever, totally the kind of girl you’d want with you on a dangerous adventure. She acts as a balance between her friends, the impulsive Essie and the overly cautious Alex, the Ego to their Id and Superego. Finding good representations of Muslim characters in horror and fantasy is hard, which is sad considering Islam is one of the most widely practiced religions, and there are 3.3 million Muslims in the US alone. Seriously, do you know how hard it is to find a Muslim, Middle Eastern, or North African character in an English language horror novel? In fact, it’s nearly impossible to find Muslim main characters in fiction at all, unless the book is about war, forced marriage, or dealing with Islamaphobia. Not that these aren’t all serious issues worthy of being written about, but it seems unfair that that’s ALL there is. Why can’t Muslim kids enjoy fun, escapist fiction where they get to be the hero? Thank goodness Farrah is joining Ms. Marvel as another butt-kicking Muslim heroine in a genre that desperately needs them!Yes, the book has problems, but frankly, I don’t care. I freaking loved it. I wanted to get lost in the world of The Gauntlet, and the book left me craving more. I’m really looking forward to seeing more from the talented Ms. Riazi, and I sincerely hope she has a sequel in the works.

Navigation

Social Media

Search by Tags

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

Age Groups

Diversity

Genre

Support the Blog

Search

Links

The White Guy Dies First: 13 Scary Stories of Fear and Power edited by Terry J. Benton-Walker

The White Guy Dies First: 13 Scary Stories of Fear and Power edited by Terry J. Benton-Walker

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Tor Teen

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Dark Fantasy, Eco Horror, Killer/Slasher, Monster, Mystery, Myth and Folklore, Romance

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Black characters and authors, characters of Chinese descent and Chinese New Zealander author, Indigenous characters and author (Seminole), Korean American characters and author, Bisexual characters, Queer women characters, Non-binary character and authors, Ace Spectrum author, MENA character, Bangladeshi-Irish author, Iranian-American author, Latinx characters and author

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Amputation, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Mental Illness, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Vomit

Blurb

13 SCARY STORIES. 13 AUTHORS OF COLOR.
13 TIMES WE SURVIVED THE FIRST KILL.

The White Guy Dies First includes thirteen scary stories by all-star contributors and this time, the white guy dies first.

Killer clowns, a hungry hedge maze, and rich kids who got bored. Friendly cannibals, impossible slashers, and the dead who don’t stay dead….

A museum curator who despises “diasporic inaccuracies.” A sweet girl and her diary of happy thoughts. An old house that just wants friends forever….

These stories are filled with ancient terrors and modern villains, but go ahead, go into the basement, step onto the old plantation, and open the magician’s mystery box because this time, the white guy dies first.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

This is a book that is going to make racists people mad, and I’m here for it. Consider yourself forewarned: if you’re white, this book is not written for you and you’re going to need a thick skin to read it. White people are so used to having positive representation in media that a book where white people make everything worse and always end up dead is going to rub the more sensitive white folks the wrong way, even those who might consider themselves allies. But for the rest of us? It’s awesome and a much-needed subversion of the “Black Guy Dies First” trope. Now, just because the white guy dies first in these stories does not make the BIPOC immune from horrific deaths. Hedge and The Protégé both have Black teens who meet violent ends. A Native person in Best Served Cold is tortured. They’re just not the first to die and get to be main characters.

Many (but not all) of the stories focus on the racism characters face and how often bad things happen to BIPOC people because of the actions of white people. Farz-joon from Break Through Our Skin by Naseem Jamnia is a non-binary, Iranian high school student who desperately wants a Smithosian internship. In order to secure one, they agree to volunteer at the University of Chicago’s Oriental Institute (thankfully, the problematic name was changed to the Institute for the Study of Ancient Culture in 2023) working under a condescending, racist, and transphobic old white professor named Dr. Hudson who thinks he knows more about Iran than Farz does because he’s studied it, speaks Farsi, and actually visited Iran, which Farz has not. He also objects to the Institute’s name change because the original name has “history” and “meaning.” Farz tolerates his boorish behavior so they can fulfill their dream of becoming an archeologist and challenge the idea that gender can be determined from a skeleton alone, but of course Dr. Hudson criticizes their “modern” ideas about gender stating “political correctness has no place in ancient history”, despite historical evidence of gender non-conforming people existing in ancient Iran and bioarchaeologist’s more recent views on sex and gender. Unsurprisingly, it turns out he only hired Farz to give the exhibits a “layer of authenticity” and he’s willing to jeopardize Farz’s future by withholding his recommendation.

Wasps by Mark Oshiro focuses on how gentrification hurts immigrant communities, while Hedge by Kalynn Brown has a topiary garden created by wealthy whites in the 1970s where anyone who enters winds up dead, including the main character’s father. In Grave Grove by Alexis Henderson, a Black teen named Rumi befriends a white Northerner named Kaitlin and she helpsadjust to life in the Southern US. The two even start a podcast together entitled Girls and Ghosts. Their newest episode is about Kyle Adams, a racist who went missing in the eighties after chasing a Black teen, William Jones, into an abandoned plantation. Unfortunately, we quickly learn that Kaitlin is not a good friend to Rumi. She ignores her at school in favor of hanging out with white girls, makes Rumi do all the grunt work for their podcast, and is actually pretty racist for someone who probably considers themselves liberal. She excuses Kyle’s racism because it happened in the past (the 1980s) and “everyone was racist back then.” She thinks William is a “drug dealer” who belongs in prison because he was caught with marijuana, despite smoking weed herself. She views Kyle as the victim, not William. She doesn’t want to talk about the racist history of the plantation or consider the slaves who died there, just the missing white boy. She even mentions her sister’s best friend got married at the plantation, a favorite location for Southern brides (gross). Side note, but I loved that Kaitlin believed in the supernatural while Rumi was the skeptic, since BIPOC are so often cast as superstitious and foolish compared to logical white people. I’m a skeptic myself so it was nice to see a character like me in both Grave Grove and Hell is Other Demons, where the Black main character is an atheist.

Best Served Cold by H. E. Edgmon and The Protégé by Lamar Giles both have the BIPOC main characters get into trouble specifically because they choose to trust a white person. In the former, our protagonist, EJ, makes the mistake of accepting a white man who befriended their brother. EJ struggled with internalized racism throughout their childhood, doing things like using cheap, unsafe contacts from the mall to change their eye color from brown to green. Kai, their brother, tells EJ that those are their ancestor’s eyes, and that their appearance connects them to their ancestry and they should be proud of them. Kai works to reclaim a past that was stolen by colonization (like learning traditional farming and hunting), and teaches EJ about ancestral trauma. EJ realizes the reason they feel angry and frustrated is because they are “playing a game whose rules have never been designed for me to win.” Their mother claims to be white because she passes, even though her grandfather was sent to a residential school in Oklahoma. She denies her heritage. EJ and Kai’s parents grew up together on a reservation in Florida, but moved to Chicago as adults. They told their children they’d left the Rez to give them a better life. Kai brings his white friend (possibly boyfriend) Isaac, who has intense green eyes, to a Pow Wow where the other Natives give him side eye. Clearly, they see something Kai doesn’t (there are other white people there but they don’t face the same level of scrutiny). One of the community leaders talks about MMIWC (Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Children) which serves as foreshadowing. It’s implied that the antagonist in the story is a certain evil spirit from Algonquian mythology (one who’s associated with winter and cannibalism). Edgmon is Seminole, not one of the Algonquian tribes, but he writes with respect, never breaking the taboo of using the spirits name which is said to summon it. This particular creature is also a perfect representation of colonialism with its insatiable hunger and destructive nature.  Kai and EJ do everything they can to fight colonialism but still fall victim to the evil spirit.

The Protégé by Lamar Giles, like Best Served Cold, is a particularly tragic story with the main character, Troy’s, life ruined by his best friend, in this case an older, white gentleman named Jack Meridian. Jack is a retired magician who’s been mentoring Troy in the art of card tricks and illusions, and one of the young teen’s only friends. Troy so admires the older man that he immediately agrees to do him a favor, accepting a package while Jack runs errands downtown. Simple enough, right? While Troy’s older brother Darius is having a party with his friends, Troy sees that the news is reporting a mass killing at the mall where Jack was heading. He tries to contact his magician mentor but the person who killed him answers the phone and threatens Troy if he doesn’t give them the package he received. The killer is revealed to be Danford Dread, a magician who “perverts” the art and performs dark and gory magic that “plays to the worst in people.” And now he’s after Troy and his brother. Even though the white guy in this story is a “good guy” he still ruins a Black boy’s life by bringing him into his world and putting him directly into danger.

In Hell is Other Demons by Karen Strong, the main character is killed (she spends most of the story as a ghost) because her crush’s white boyfriend starts meddling with the supernatural and summons a demon. The other stories of dating a white boy don’t end with dead young women, but they do highlight the perils of interracial dating, namely that white men often fetishize non-white women. I mean, just look how BIPOC women have their own categories on porn sites (gross). Obviously not all mixed-race relationships are problematic; my parents are a mixed-race couple, my sister has an amazing Chilean fiancé (who is himself biracial), and I’m friends with happily married couples in mixed relationships. Unfortunately, there are always bad apples.

In both the Golden Dragon by Kendare Blake and Docile Girls by Chloe Gong, Korean-American Sophie and Chinese-I-think-American-but-possibly-New-Zealander Adelaid are dumped by their white boyfriends (and subsequently lose all the white people they thought were their friends) who fetishized them but don’t view them as committed relationship material. As Sophie’s sister puts it, they’re an exotic bang to mark off their “international bang bingo card.” Even after she gets dumped, Adelaid’s ex sees her as too weak and docile to be the killer who’s been stalking the teens, an assumption that proves fatal for him. This is unfortunately common, as all the East Asian-American women I know I can attest to. When they’re sexually harassed, it almost always has racist undertones. They’ve been propositioned by white men looking for “submissive waifus,” had “me so horny” shouted at them, asked if they have sideways vaginas, or “complimented” on their “exotic” beauty. White men have long fetishized East Asian women, with examples dating as far back as 1898 with the book Madame Butterfly. A Columbia University study from 2007 showed that in online dating, White men seemed to have a strong preference for Asian women when it came to hookups, but when they wanted a committed relationship, they preferred white women. Meanwhile, Black women, especially those with dark skin, are considered less desirable than women of other races.

In All Eyes on Me by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé main character Helen deals with a white boyfriend, Asher, who is constantly committing microaggressions. He mocks her kinky hair, and implies she can’t be an actress because she’s Black and not a “bombshell.”  Yet Helen still feels guilty about wanting to break up with Asher because everyone else considers him the perfect, all-American boy. And as a Black girl she’s supposed to be grateful that a white boy wants her, even though being tied down to him and trapped in their small town forever sounds like a nightmare. Fortunately for all three girls, they end their stories without being tied down by their racist exes.

Not all the stories in the collection are focused on race and racism, however. The Road to Hell by Terry Benton-Walker has a very original set up, exploring an abusive relationship between a haunted house and a family living it with the house as the abuser. Everything’s Coming Up Roses by Tiffany D. Jackson is about a mentally unwell girl named Leesa who is obsessed with gardening and documents her daily life in her journal. Leesa is an unreliable narrator and the true horror is slowly revealed over the course of the story. Like most anthologies, the quality of the stories varies, but none that I would have rated below three out of five stars. Some were good, others, like Everything’s Coming Up RosesGray Grove, and Best Served Cold, were great. It’s also worth noting that many of the stories are VERY gory, which may be too much for younger teens who aren’t big horror fans. Of course, since most horror fans were reading Stephen King when they were eight, I don’t foresee this being an issue for anyone who decides to read this book.

The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum

The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: ECW Press

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Sci-Fi

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Indian Canadian author and characters

Takes Place in: BC, Canada

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Racism

Blurb

The small-town mysteries of John Bellairs are made modern with a dash of Stranger Things in this spine-tingling supernatural horror-thriller After his father returns from treatment for addiction, highschooler Vish ― lover of metal music and literature ― is uncertain what the future holds. It doesn’t help that everyone seems to know about the family’s troubles, and they stand out doubly as one of the only brown families in town. When Vish is mistaken for a relative of the weird local bookseller and attacked by an unsettling pale man who seems to be decaying, he is pulled into the world of the occult, where witches live in television sets, undead creatures can burn with a touch, and magic is mathematical. Vish must work with the bookstore owner and his mysterious teenage employee, Gisela, to stop an interdimensional invasion that would destroy their peaceful town. Bringing together scares, suspense, and body horror, The Grimmer is award-winning author Naben Ruthnum’s first foray into the young adult genre. This gripping ride through the supernatural is loaded with vivid characters, frightening imagery, and astonishing twists, while tackling complex issues such as grief, racism, and addiction.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

It’s 1996, and Vish Maurya is finally returning from his Vancouver Island boarding school to his home of Kelowna, BC (where Ruthnum grew up). Normally, he’d spend the summer playing music with his best friends, Danny and Matt Pearson, but they’re no longer on speaking terms after the brothers told their music teacher about Vish’s father’s opioid addiction. Somehow, the entire school found out and Vish was sent away to boarding school while his father went to detox and worked on his recovery. Now he spends his days in his room brooding and pretending everything at is normal at home.

Kelwona is very white, and it’s hard for Vish being one of the only Indian kids. Other children do imitations of his parents’ Indian accents (never mind that neither of them has a strong accent). They joke that his beautiful mother is a mail-order bride or make snide remarks about arranged marriages because “there was no way someone that beautiful would willingly end up with someone who looked like his dad.” Parents tell him how much they love butter chicken and samosas. So, it’s a relief when Vish meets another Indian person, a cool but sick-looking young man named Agastya who runs a bookstore called Greycat books. A shop I would totally visit for the name alone if it existed in the real world. There’s even a shop cat named Moby. Little does he know that Agastya, a punk teen named Gisela, and a strange man named Mr. Farris are about to change his life forever.

And this is where the book veers into a mix of dark fantasy and science-fiction à la a Wrinkle in Time. Mr. Farris is a nachzehrer, an undead creature from German folklore that is said to be able to drain its victim’s lifeforce. Gisela is also a 700-year-old German witch, but somehow still 16 so it’s totally not creepy for Vish to harbor a crush on her because they’re technically the same age due to magic and time travel. She gave me the impression of a punk version of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, that is, a woman who exists only to help and fulfil the male protagonists. She rescues her love interest from his own boring life and guides him to become a better version of himself. Gisela at least has her own motivations and desires, using Vish to stop the antagonist, but her “not like other girls” vibes still grated on me. I also didn’t like how Agastya and Gisela keep promising to tell Vish everything, then would end up dropping new, horrible surprises on him. You can hardly blame him for getting frustrated with them. They would act like they cared, but then seemed to be only interested in using poor Vish.

I found the Grimmer’s magic system confusing, somehow both extremely detailed and vague. Despite multiple explanations of both magic and magical beings I still had no idea how everything worked (something to do with very complex math and physics?). All this seemed to do was make the book feel unnecessarily drawn out. Kudos to Ruthnum for putting so much thought into his world, but I would’ve liked to have seen less world building and more character development, especially for Gisela. I could have also used more horror, given that the book is advertised as horror, though what little there was felt genuinely creepy.

Although The Grimmer takes place in the 90s, it avoids relying too much on nostalgia or making a plethora of pop culture references that might alienate its young adult audience. I liked how the book dealt so deftly with heavy topics like racism and addiction and showed the adults as imperfect. I like that Vish’s father, a well-educated psychiatrist, struggles with drug addiction while we see Agastya, a successful book store owner, abuse alcohol to help cope with the death of his wife.

Anyone can suffer from a substance use disorder, including a successful doctor and family man like Vish’s father, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at most media. At my day job, I work with patients struggling with substance use disorder (SUD), and half the battle is confronting the stigma surrounding addiction. Stereotypes about those with SUD include being “bad” people who can’t hold down jobs, live in squalor, have no meaningful relationships, are uneducated (often drop outs) and choose to be this way. Often, I will hear patients tearfully tell me that they’re not bad people, not like those other “addicts.” They’re afraid we’ll judge them, even though they suffer from a disease that can affect anyone, because the stereotypes surrounding addiction are so pervasive. Unfortunately, their fears aren’t unfounded because even in healthcare addiction carries a lot of stigma and providers will treat these patients as “lesser.” Some patients can’t even admit they have a problem because they don’t fit the mold of what they think someone with SUD looks like. They have a successful job, a family, they own their own house, they go to church, etc. so they can’t possibly be someone with an addiction. Their inability to accept reality (of course) makes recovery even harder. The fanciful aspects of The Grimmer were hit and miss for me, and I felt like Giselle could have been a stronger character, but the book was solid and the more serious issues (grief, addiction, racism) were all handled well and were, for me at least, the strongest parts of the story. 

Out on a Limb by Luis Paredes

Out on a Limb by Luis Paredes

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Platypus Book Press

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Mystery

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Mexican-American main character and author

Takes Place in: New York City

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

Blurb

How many perverts d’ya think sucked on those toes before the police rolled in?”

With that question, Out On a Limb kicks off an irreverent, foul-mouthed, and horrific urban fantasy noir series following the exploits of private occult investigators Rebecca Suarez and Peyton Marx. In this fast-paced novella that readers can devour in an afternoon, Rebecca and Peyton are stumped by their strangest case yet–a tree growing human legs.

The dangling gams become the least of their concerns when nearby trees start consuming more than just carbon dioxide. Now the investigators must use their powers and the NYPD’s magical tech to find the mage responsible for this heinous crime and stop a bloody disaster from creeping across the Empire State.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

As those of you who follow my Twitter (I refuse to call it by that other name) know, I have a rabbit named Aramis who enjoys violence and horror movies. She thinks more horror should have rabbits in it, especially rabbits that murder people like in Night of the Lepus. So, Aramis was very excited that Out on a Limb has a Holland lop as a main character. But this rabbit doesn’t murder anyone. She’s a heroic rabbit, albeit a foul mouthed and very sassy one (much like Aramis would be if she could speak) named Peyton Marx.

Ten years ago a statue of Hecate walked out of a museum in Greece, and magic was brought into the world. Thousands of people (and some animals, like Peyton) found themselves gifted with different types of magical abilities. There are different types of magic, and people can specialize in more than one kind. Unfortunately, magical powers were distributed randomly which means criminals also ended up with magical abilities. And that’s where Peyton and her human partner, Rebecca Suarez, come in.

Rebecca and Peyton are struggling, private occult investigators who specialize in unexplained paranormal phenomena (UPP) and hunt down magical criminals using their own array of charms and spells. The story starts with Rebecca and Peyton arriving in Queens, having been called in by the police to assist on a particularly strange crime, an oak tree full of human legs. Clearly the work of an incantation (possibly one that backfired), but who cast it is unclear.

Out on a Limb is a fun, quick read filled with lore and humor. I also liked all the rabbit-y things Peyton does like binkies when she’s happy or getting offended when a child points out that rabbits eat their own poop. The world building is exquisite, and there’s a surprising amount of it for such a short novella, but not so much that you feel overwhelmed with information. The relationship between Rebecca and Peyton is cute, and much of the humor comes from how they play off each other. While this novella leans more towards dark fantasy then straight horror it’s still creepy enough that most horror fans should enjoy it. 

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me by Jamison Shea

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me by Jamison Shea

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Mystery, Occult, Thriller

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Black main character and author, bisexual main character

Takes Place in: Paris, France

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Body Shaming, Bullying, Death, Racism, Self Harm, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

There will be blood.

Ace of Spades meets House of Hollow in this villain origin story.

Laure Mesny is a perfectionist with an axe to grind. Despite being constantly overlooked in the elite and cutthroat world of the Parisian ballet, she will do anything to prove that a Black girl can take center stage. To level the playing field, Laure ventures deep into the depths of the Catacombs and strikes a deal with a pulsating river of blood.

The primordial power Laure gains promises influence and adoration, everything she’s dreamed of and worked toward. With retribution on her mind, she surpasses her bitter and privileged peers, leaving broken bodies behind her on her climb to stardom.

But even as undeniable as she is, Laure is not the only monster around. And her vicious desires make her a perfect target for slaughter. As she descends into madness and the mystifying underworld beneath her, she is faced with the ultimate choice: continue to break herself for scraps of validation or succumb to the darkness that wants her exactly as she is—monstrous heart and all. That is, if the god-killer doesn’t catch her first.

From debut author Jamison Shea comes I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me, a slow-burn horror that lifts a veil on the institutions that profit on exclusion and the toll of giving everything to a world that will never love you back.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

I went into I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast is Me expecting Laure to be an unlikeable female protagonist (something I actually enjoy in a story), but I was not prepared for just how relatable she was. If I ever become a supervillain, my origin story will be me finally getting fed up with all the bigotry and microaggressions I have to deal with every day and deciding to get even, rather than continuing to either educate or ignore the people hurting me. And that’s exactly what Laure does. Can you blame her? Every other ballerina in her company is rich and white, with powerful parents just dripping with privilege. The ballet is cutthroat, with ballerinas actively trying to sabotage each other (dancers often finds glass and tacks in their ballet shoes) and praying for one another’s downfall, and Laure is at a distinct disadvantage. Even though she works the hardest and performs the best of all of them, she’ll always be the Black girl who has to steal to pay for her tights. So, she cheats to level the playing field. Once she does, her talent and hard work is immediately rewarded. And honestly? It’s cathartic to watch Laure stoop to the level of the other ballerinas and their awful parents. It is SO exhausting to always have to be the bigger person in the face of abuse. I may agree with Michelle Obama’s “When they go low, we go high,” but I still don’t like having to “go high” when I would rather be a petty asshole. So, in a purely fictional world? It’s wonderfully satisfying to watch a Black woman choose the role of the villain and get even with all those rich white girls.

Ballet is still one of the least diverse performing arts, fraught with racism that ranges from subtle to overt. This is especially true in Europe. In her book Turning Pointe, Chloe Angyal discusses ballet’s racism problem. She describes an encounter with a racist dance mom and her implied message to her daughter: “[Black dancers are] not really good, but they are allowed to be here. In this space that is rightfully yours, in this art form that is rightfully yours. They’re never as good as the white girls, a sweeping generalization that grants no individuality, no humanity, to any nonwhite dancer. They’re all the same, and they never deserve to be here. But don’t worry. Your excellence is a given. You belong here, while their presence is conditional or even ill-gotten.” I think this quote sums up Laure’s struggles beautifully. The only difference is that these are struggles faced by real dancers.

Even something as simple as buying pointe shoes is no easy task for Black dancers. Most dance garments are traditionally “European pink,” and don’t match darker skin tones. Black ballerinas often have to pancake their shoes in dark foundation to match their skin tone and dye their tutus and tights. It’s only recently that brands like Capezio, Freed of London, and Bloch have offered shoes in darker skin tones. In the book Laure must purchase her own ballet shoes and tights because the ballet will only pay for pink ones. Black bodies are also discriminated against in ballet. In an interview with Sheila Rohan the Black ballet dancer described racism in ballet. “Racism in the ballet arts… meant people would make remarks about the Black ballerinas’ bodies — such as their chests being ‘too busty’ or their thighs being ‘too thick.’” A Black dancer in Berlin was told to lighten her skin with white makeup in order to play a song in Swan Lake. Laure straightens and gels her curly hair into place so she won’t stand out from the other dancers, but is still told she’s too “exotic” for a French ballet by a drunk patron. The controversial ballet La Bayadère was performed in Blackface by Russian dancers (white dancers have also worn stereotypical clothing and makeup to portray Roma and Chinese characters). The same ballet put on by Laure’s company in which she plays a shade.

After being abandoned by both parents, Laure’s only source of support is her best (and only) friend, Coralie, who is… not great. She’s kind and supportive of Laure, yes, but she’s also a subpar ballerina who just assumes she’ll get a spot in Paris’ prestigious ballet due to her famous mother. She’s essentially an entitled slacker and just as oblivious to her privilege as the other rich white girls. Coralie is also a snob, turning her nose up at anything that doesn’t come with a high price tag, which grates on permanently broke Laure’s nerves. Coralie really does seem to love her best friend, but their relationship comes with a power imbalance. So, she does not take it well when that balance of power shifts and Laure starts beating her out for roles. Because she has no one else, Laure is terrified of losing her only friend (as difficult as she can be), that is until she meets the étoile of the ballet, Josephine. Josephine gives her friendship freely without expecting anything in return, and treats Laure as an equal. She introduces Laure to her friends and shows her how she too can become an étoile. Slowly, Laure starts to see what a true friendship is like and begins to pull away from Coralie, although she still refuses to drop her completely and makes excuses for the wealthy girl’s bad behavior. I liked that while Laure does pursue a romance with a man later in the book, the story is mostly focused on her female friendships. It’s also a nice change of pace to see a toxic platonic, non-familial relationship explored. I don’t think enough people talk about how friendships can be abusive and how hard “breaking up” with a friend can be.

Another interesting theme in I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast is Me is the idea of “perfection.” As a burned-out former “gifted kid” I know what it’s like to be expected to be perfect, then destroy yourself trying to do the impossible and ultimately have a mental breakdown when you realize perfection can never be achieved, and therefore that makes you a “failure.” The ballet expects Laure and her peers to be no less than perfect, and anyone who doesn’t make the cut is thrown aside and forgotten. While Coralie can get by half-assing it because of her mother, Laure must be the best there is to even think of if she wants to compete with the others. And it means giving up everything. This kind of perfectionism is extremely damaging to your mental health. Laure also believes that acceptance and respect from the others is entirely dependent on being perfect, not realizing she deserves respect regardless of her performance.

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast is Me is one of those books that I absolutely devoured. It held my attention throughout the story (no small feat when you have ADHD), save for a short part in the middle that felt like it was dragging. But other than that small criticism I can’t think of anything negative to say about this book. It’s a unique setting for a horror story, and a fresh spin on a Faustian bargain narrative. 

House of Pungsu by K.P. Kulski

House of Pungsu by K.P. Kulski

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Bizarro Pulp Press

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Ghosts/Haunting, Gothic

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Korean-American author, Korean characters

Takes Place in: Korea

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Child Death, Death, Sexism, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

“As sharp as broken pottery and as delicate as a peony petal, House of Pungsu is the story my spirit hungered for. K.P. Kulski shifts rice paper doors to reveal the darkest truth.”—Lee Murray, USA Today bestselling author and four-time Bram Stoker Award® winner.

No one knows what’s beyond the walls of the Joseon-era palace that never seems to decay, a sprawling complex where daughter, mother, and grandmother are the only inhabitants. Why is her bed-bound grandmother locked in her room each night, and what exactly is behind the locked doors of the palace pavilions and halls? When daughter unexpectedly begins to menstruate, she is tormented with dreams that drive her to find answers.

Following the Korean folk story of “A Tiger’s Whisker,” HOUSE OF PUNGSU is a feminist meditation on women’s inner identity and the struggle to rediscover it.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

 
House of Pungsu is a dark, feminist fairy tale about a young woman finding her own identity and power. It is the story of three women–daughter, mother, and grandmother–living in an uninhabited palace in Joseon where time stands still and nothing changes. None of the women have names and are only defined by their roles in relation to each other. Grandmother, mother, and daughter reflect the triple goddess archetype (the maiden, the mother, and the crone) or the three stages of growth. Ironic since they are trapped in a world where time doesn’t move, and the maiden is unable to become the mother. That is, until Daughter experiences her first period and time slowly begins to affect the palace again. Rain falls once more and the fruit on the trees begins to rot.

Daughter does not remember her real name or her past, only that she is someone’s daughter. She is full of barely contained rebellious spirit and hope for the future, but she is bound by duty to be obedient and quiet, a “tame tiger.”  “Their lives an animal within me that growls… a wild thing that wants to bite its tether yet I do nothing to free it. Instead, I stand very still, say little, and wait for the fury to subside.” Mother is bitter and pessimistic, though still hopes her daughter can one day leave the palace while still believing it impossible. It’s implied she was once the wife of an emperor and not allowed her own hopes, dreams, and aspirations beyond pleasing her husband and bearing his children. Daughter believes that grandmother is confined to her bed, just as she and mother are confined to the palace, but mother has to lock grandmother in at night, and someone locks the other side of the door. At night, growling and commotion can be heard from the bedroom. It seems grandmother is not as helpless or trapped as she seems, a wild tiger locked up for the safety of mother and daughter. 

A drawing of a woman in a hanbok serving a bowl of meat and rice to a tiger

The tiger motif is repeated throughout the book, as tigers are strongly associated with Korea and found repeatedly throughout Korean folklore. Kulski draws inspiration from one such folktale, The Tiger’s Whisker, a folktale about living with someone who suffers from PTSD. It emphasizes the diligence and patience you must have when working with someone with complex trauma. While on its surface the story seems to be a heartwarming tale of helping a loved one, Kulski notes that the burden is put on the wife to help her husband and have patience when he’s angry and abusive. The wife exists only to help her husband and is expected to suffer with him. In many versions of the tale, she is not even given her own name. And so Kulski creates her own ending, instead focusing on the wife overcoming the fear of the tiger and the husband that once held her back. She asks the question, “What would happen if you released the full ferocity of the tiger rather than tame it?”

Children of Chicago by Cynthia Pelayo

Children of Chicago by Cynthia Pelayo

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Agora

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Demon, Killer/Slasher, Myth and Folklore, Thriller

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Bisexual main character, Puerto Rican main character and author, Latine characters

Takes Place in: Chicago, IL, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Child Death, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Illness, Kidnapping, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse, Police Harassment, Suicide, Violence

Blurb

This horrifying retelling of the Pied Piper fairytale set in present-day Chicago is an edge of your seat, chills up the spine, thrill ride. ‪ When Detective Lauren Medina sees the calling card at a murder scene in Chicago’s Humboldt Park neighborhood, she knows the Pied Piper has returned. When another teenager is brutally murdered at the same lagoon where her sister’s body was found floating years before, she is certain that the Pied Piper is not just back, he’s looking for payment he’s owed from her. Lauren’s torn between protecting the city she has sworn to keep safe, and keeping a promise she made long ago with her sister’s murderer. She may have to ruin her life by exposing her secrets and lies to stop the Pied Piper before he collects.

And I chiefly use my charm
On creatures that do people harm,
The mole and toad and newt and viper;
And people call me the Pied Piper.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning (1812-1889)

“The Pied Piper of Hamelin”by Augustin von Mörsperg, 1592

My dad was born and raised on the Southside Chicago and will tell anyone who will listen that his birthplace is the best city in the world. My wife, on the other hand, firmly believes Chicago is akin to LA in the ‘90s. When I did finally manage to lure her there with the promise of deep-dish pizza and the Museum of Science and Industry she did admit the Windy City was a pretty cool place and not at scary as she was expecting (even after we stumbled onto an illegal street race). Although the crime rate there is higher than the national average, Chicago is hardly the crime and drug filled dystopia my wife and other outsiders seem to believe it is. In fact, its violent crime rates are far lower than those of Anchorage, Wichita, and Milwaukee. The dangerous reputation may have come from Chicago’s fascinating history of crime, gangsters, and serial killers or even the many tragedies that have befallen the White City in the past. Modern-day boogiemen like the Lipstick Killer, John Wayne Gacy, the Ripper Crew, and Richard Speck all called Chicago their home. The Blue Beard-esque H. H. Holmes built his murder castle in Englewood. The city’s most notorious gangster, Al Capone, has morphed into something of a folk hero and tragedies like the Great Chicago Fire and the Haymarket affair have taken on almost a legendary status. Dark rumors surround the abandoned Edgewater Medical Center. Stories like these have shaped Chicago’s history and how it’s perceived by the rest of the country: a gothic city haunted by the past. But darkness and death aren’t all the city has to offer.

Fairy tales, at least the original versions and not the Disney-fied ones, are often a child’s first introduction to the world of horror. Beautiful and sinister stories full of threats of death and assault, mutilation, hungry wolves, and dark forests have been used to frighten children for generations. Fairy tales are beautiful roses and sharp thorns, poisonous treats, beauty and blood. They also share many of the same elements as gothic fiction. Sometime in the distant past, a helpless woman is placed in a dark and dangerous setting (now a castle instead of a forest), where she is threatened by supernatural forces until rescued by the hero. Orphans and peasant girls are made to suffer before finally coming into riches. Animals no longer speak, but still bring portents of doom. Nature is wild, dangerous, and unpredictable. Both have themes of revenge, isolation, rags to riches, abuse, and women who are under constant threat as the men in her life fight over her body. Bluebeard, and other versions of the Aarne–Thompson type 312 tale, are the perfect example of a gothic fairy tale. In the story a woman leaves her family to marry a mysterious stranger and goes to live in his isolated and lonely castle. But locked away in a castle is a dark and dangerous secret. The wife can go in any room, but one, which contains the bodies of the stranger’s previous, murdered wives.

In the original version of Cinderella, the Little Mermaid, and Sleeping Beauty, the step sisters cut off parts of their feet and birds pecked out their eyes, the mermaid’s tongue was cut out and every step she took on land was agony, and Sleeping Beauty was raped and impregnated with twins by a married king while she slept.

Cynthia Pelayo draws on the city’s history to create her gothic urban fairy tale, Children of Chicago. The city stands in for the dark forest, a vaguely supernatural setting where unwary children disappear and gang members prowl the street like big bad wolves. The book follows recently orphaned Lauren Medina, a deeply troubled police detective hunting a serial killer known only as The Pied Piper– a shadowy boogeyman who preys on children then vanishes into the night. It’s rumored he can be summoned by burning a black candle and speaking a spell in front of a mirror. Throughout the story, Lauren is unstable and brimming over with barely-contained emotion, a staple of any good Gothic tale, as she wrestles with her missing memories of her sister’s death. Lauren breaks the typical female fairy tale mold where women were relegated to witches, wise women, virginal damsels, and evil stepmothers. She’s not exactly evil, but she isn’t pure and heroic either, instead she’s but a rare example of a female Byronic hero intentionally written to be tragic, unlikeable, morally gray, and hiding a dark past, much like the heroes found in gothic horror. In fact, few of the women in the story fall into any of the aforementioned roles. Stepmothers aren’t necessarily evil, even if their angry stepdaughters perceive them as such. Damsels in distress may possess more agency than they seem to, and villainous women can also be victims. I genuinely enjoyed seeing a female character (who wasn’t intended to be liked) embrace her darkness and struggle with her morality. Just as much horror came from Lauren’s psychological trauma and instability as it did from the threat of the supernatural.

While Lauren initially came across as “the young female cop with a dark past and something to prove” trope (aka Jodie Foster in Silence of the Lambs), it soon became clear that unlike Clarice Starling, we’re not necessarily supposed to root for her. And unlike every maverick detective in an ‘80s buddy-cop comedy, Lauren’s flagrant disregard for the rules in order to get her guy aren’t justified, but instead dangerous and unjust. Though, much like police in the real world, she’s able to get away with it. I appreciate that Pelayo avoided turning her crime drama into “copaganda” by making Lauren a protagonist, but not a hero. I admit I used to enjoy shows like Brooklyn 99Lucifer, and Law & Order SVU (yes, I’m old) even though I recognized how incredibly problematic they were. But ever since 2020 I’ve more or less lost my taste for any media that portrays a corrupt system as a heroic force for good, justified in flouting the law. It no longer feels like harmless fantasy when you realize how many people actually believe that cop shows reflect real life and officers only target “bad guys” as oppose to anyone they don’t like (mostly BIPOC, the poor, and the mentally ill). So, reading a crime story where the police weren’t heroes was a relief. In fact, Lauren’s only redeeming quality is that she has a soft spot for troubled teens, ever since the mysterious death of her own sister.

Brimming with references to Chicago’s history, it’s clear that Pelayo loves her home while still recognizing its flaws. In fact, the novel feels just as much a crime story as it does a guide to the dark and fantastical parts of the Windy City. She holds a Master of Fine Arts in Writing from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago and it shows in her writing. Throughout Children of Chicago Pelayo references the original, dark versions of famous and not-so famous fairytales, from Cinderella to the Singing Bone, adding to her own story’s dark atmosphere balancing on the edge of reality and fantasy. Pelayo’s novel is full of missing mothers, an unjust society where the most vulnerable suffer, magic mirrors, plenty of gore, spells, and a moral message. But overall, it’s a subversion of the classic fairy tale formula where the good are rewarded, the evil are punished, and morality is clearly defined. In Children of Chicago the “heroes” are neither pure-hearted nor moral, evil escapes justice while the innocent suffer, and no one is getting a happy ending.

It’s unfortunate that the darkest parts of Chicago’s history have shaped so much of its reputation when the Windy City has so much to offer. As my wife soon discovered on her first visit, the city is full or art, beauty, and wonder. Pelayo doesn’t just show the city’s dark side, she shows its magic as well. “Fairy tales are in our blood as Chicagoans” one of the books characters explains. Walt DisneyL. Frank BaumRay Bradbury, and Gwnedolyn Brooks were all inspired by the city to create their own fairy tales. Colleen Moore created her famous Fairy Castle and donated it to The Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. Children gathered pennies to create the Rock-a-Bye Lady from Eugene Field’s poem. The haunting beauty of the SheddAquarium feels like you’ve stepped into another world. The city even has a secret Little Mermaid inspired bar! It’s this beauty, contrasted with the allure of danger, that makes Chicago as wonderous as any fairytale.

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova

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.

The Gauntlet by Karuna Riazi

The Gauntlet by Karuna Riazi

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Salaam Reads

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Demon

Audience: Children

Diversity: South Asian characters, Bangladeshi characters, Middle Eastern characters,  character with a Cognitive/Learning Disability/ADHD

Takes Place in: New York City, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Child Endangerment, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Violence 

Blurb

A trio of friends from New York City find themselves trapped inside a mechanical board game that they must dismantle in order to save themselves and generations of other children in this action-packed debut that’s a steampunk Jumanji with a Middle Eastern flair.

When twelve-year-old Farah and her two best friends get sucked into a mechanical board game called The Gauntlet of Blood and Sand—a puzzle game akin to a large Rubik’s cube—they know it’s up to them to defeat the game’s diabolical architect in order to save themselves and those who are trapped inside, including her baby brother Ahmed. But first they have to figure out how.

Under the tutelage of a lizard guide named Henrietta Peel and an aeronaut Vijay, Farah and her friends battle camel spiders, red scorpions, grease monkeys, and sand cats as they prepare to face off with the maniacal Lord Amari, the man behind the machine. Can they defeat Amari at his own game…or will they, like the children who came before them, become cogs in the machine?

Belated Eid Mubarak! I hope all my Muslim readers had a happy Eid Al-Fitr, and that Ramadan brought you peace and prosperity. In the spirit of the holiday I decided to review this gorgeous children’s chapter book from Salaam Reads. Like the blurb said, The Gauntlet is basically a Middle Eastern steampunk Jumanji, and it’s SO cool. The story is overflowing with creative ideas: clockwork monkeys, liquid moonlight, giant games of Mancala played in the graveyard, the dream gardens, and the dark carnival Lailat (Arabic for “nights”). It reminded me of the Wizard of Oz combined with the PC adventure puzzle games from my childhood. It’s educational, but in a fun way that doesn’t break the flow of the story. I found myself frequently running to Google so I could learn more about Islam, or Bangladeshi and Middle Eastern cultures, or to look up what chenna murki was (and now I want to eat it). And there were even fun little references to Labyrinth and the Bollywood film, Paheli snuck in there. The book is bursting with creativity and originality, and has so much potential, but it could have been a lot better. Maybe this is a nitpicky complaint, but everything in the book felt too rushed, and it seriously marred an otherwise flawless novel. To be fair, this is Riazi’s first book, so it’s understandable that it still has some rough spots, and I have no doubt we’ll see even more amazing work from her as she hones her craft. But for now, Riazi’s work still needs more polishing and refinement before it can really shine.

The first image shows a rough, green gem and has been labeled “Rough Draft” in fancy gold lettering. The second image is of the same green gem, now polished labeled “The Gauntlet”. The final image shows a bird’s eye view of the green gem, finally cut into a “round brilliant” shape. This is labeled “Riazi’s future work?”

When I say everything felt rushed I don’t mean in a thrilling, “we have to retrieve the McGuffin before time runs out” sort of way. Instead, it’s more “Riazi had a rapidly approaching deadline and had to cut out half of the story to meet it”. Which sucks, because I really wanted to spend more time appreciating all the little details put into the world of Paheli (which is Hindi for “riddle”). There were all these amazing ideas in the story that never got to be fully explored or realized, and it’s really unfortunate. For example, the book’s description mentions “Sand Cats”, but they never make an appearance in the story itself. What gives? Was it cut out at the last minute? And everything in the story went by so fast it made some parts difficult to follow, and never gave the suspense a chance to build. Farah and her friends solved each challenge before I even got a chance to think “Oh no, will they make it?” Even the editing seems rushed. At one point “tail” is written as “tale”, words will frequently get repeated as if the author changed a sentence without deleting the old one, and there are some grammar errors. It’s not Cacy and Kiara bad, but there are enough mistakes that it makes me wonder how closely the editor reviewed The Gauntlet before publication. So it’s reasonable to assume many of the book’s problems may have been due to a looming deadline rather than Riazi’s writing, but that will only be revealed by reading her future work (and oh man, I hope this book gets a sequel). That, or the walrus who edited Cacy and Kiara somehow got involved.

A native Hawaiian woman in a red dress grabs her hair in frustration while looking at a stack of papers. There is a walrus wearing a hat sitting next to her. He has a goofy grin, unfocused eyes, and his tongue is hanging out with drool dripping from it. The exasperated woman yells “Wait, did you just submit this? It’s only the second draft, I wasn’t done editing it, why would you send this to production?!?” The walrus happily blows a raspberry. The woman scolds him “bad walrus, bad!”

I just assume all bad editing decisions are made by walruses.

Another issue with having a story that feels rushed is that there’s not enough time to get to know the characters, and the characters all seemed really interesting too! Well, except for Farah’s little brother, Ahmed. His character just seemed unnecessary and annoying. So, SO annoying. Like, D.W. from Arthur, but less entertaining. Farah and her friends could have just as easily gotten sucked into the game on their own, and there’s already enough suspense trying to survive and complete the challenges in Paheli that forcing Farah to try and find her little brother on top of that just seems excessive.  It’s also hard to feel any sympathy for a character, when nearly every memory Farah has of her little brother involves him being obnoxious and bratty. So kudos to her. If I had to deal with Ahmed, I would’ve fed the little brat to a mechanical camel spider or whatever, or left his butt in the middle of the desert. But hey, that’s why I’m not a Y/A protagonist. Lucky for Ahmed, Farah has much more patience than I do.

I’m reclining on a red chaise longue, drinking from a crystal goblet and casually flipping through a magazine. I’m barefoot and wearing sunglasses, shorts, and a tank top. A child screams off screen “I’m being eaten by a giant spider, help!!!” To which I apathetically respond “Eh, I would… but that sounds like a lot of effort, plus it’s really hot and my back kind of hurts…” At this point the child yells “Ahhhhhhh!” and I complain “Ugh, why are you so noisy?”

I’m sure he’ll be fine.

Now, in all likelihood, my strong dislike of Ahmed is due to my own bias. I was the oldest of four, and I HATED taking care of my younger siblings with the fiery passion of a thousand blue giant stars (Y’know, because blue stars are hotter than our yellow sun? Look, if I had to learn all these useless facts then so do you!) To this day, I’d still rather get a root canal with a rusty drill from Dr. Szell (okay… no one in this book’s age group has seen that film, have they? I’m just vomiting random trivia at this point) than watch someone’s kid. So the idea of taking care of a bratty younger brother without being forced and not hating every minute of it is completely foreign to me. I mean, my version of “watching” my siblings was to basically go “Meh, there are enough of you that mom probably won’t miss one or two kids. I’m going to go take a nap.” (They all managed to survive to adulthood by the way.) So it’s more than possible my disbelief stems from not being able to relate to someone who’s actually a good older sister. But I still think Farah just has an unnatural amount of patience. Even Sara, from Labyrinth, wanted the Goblin King to take her baby brother, and he wasn’t nearly as annoying as Ahmed.Other than being weirdly tolerant of Ahmed, Farah is a pretty awesome character. She’s brave, resourceful, and incredibly clever, totally the kind of girl you’d want with you on a dangerous adventure. She acts as a balance between her friends, the impulsive Essie and the overly cautious Alex, the Ego to their Id and Superego. Finding good representations of Muslim characters in horror and fantasy is hard, which is sad considering Islam is one of the most widely practiced religions, and there are 3.3 million Muslims in the US alone. Seriously, do you know how hard it is to find a Muslim, Middle Eastern, or North African character in an English language horror novel? In fact, it’s nearly impossible to find Muslim main characters in fiction at all, unless the book is about war, forced marriage, or dealing with Islamaphobia. Not that these aren’t all serious issues worthy of being written about, but it seems unfair that that’s ALL there is. Why can’t Muslim kids enjoy fun, escapist fiction where they get to be the hero? Thank goodness Farrah is joining Ms. Marvel as another butt-kicking Muslim heroine in a genre that desperately needs them!Yes, the book has problems, but frankly, I don’t care. I freaking loved it. I wanted to get lost in the world of The Gauntlet, and the book left me craving more. I’m really looking forward to seeing more from the talented Ms. Riazi, and I sincerely hope she has a sequel in the works.

Navigation

Social Media

Search by Tags

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

Age Groups

Diversity

Genre

Support the Blog

Search

Links