disabled | Diversity in Horror Fiction

The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion by Margaret Killjoy

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Tor

Genre: Demon, Occult

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Gay, lesbian, and bisexual characters,Trans character and author, Black character, Latine/Hispanic character, Character with anxiety disorder

Takes Place in: Iowa, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Forced Captivity, Gore, Oppression, Police Harassment, Mentions of Rape/Sexual Assault and Abuse, Suicide, Violence

Blurb

Searching for clues about her best friend’s mysterious suicide, Danielle ventures to the squatter, utopian town of Freedom, Iowa, and witnesses a protector spirit — in the form of a blood-red, three-antlered deer — begin to turn on its summoners. She and her new friends have to act fast if they’re going to save the town — or get out alive.

I’ll admit, I really didn’t know much about Anarchism or the squatter/crusty punk/traveler lifestyle (which are all different, but overlap) before picking up The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion. I had a vague notion that Anarchists didn’t like the government, but I always pictured them as some sort of cishet white boys, oblivious to their own privilege, who would disrupt otherwise peaceful protests by smashing windows and setting things on fire. Heck, if you google Anarchist, one of the synonyms that pops up at the top of the page is “terrorist”. Of course, I started to question my long-held prejudices when I noticed some of my Facebook friends, many of whom are minorities, identified as anarchists. These were people who frequently posted about human rights, non-violence, and green-living – a far cry from the violent images of Anarchists I’d seen in TV shows and movies. It was Margaret Killjoy’s novella that finally familiarized me with the movement and the people in it and encouraged me to do my research.

Killjoy, drawing from her own experience as a travelling Anarchist, created a diverse cast of anti-capitalists punks. The main character, Danielle, suffers from one of the most realistically portrayed anxiety attacks I’ve ever seen in fiction. Her mental illness isn’t glamorized or downplayed, nor is she depicted as a “crazy, weird girl”. She develops a crush on Brynn, a bisexual woman, who offers to snuggle with her in bed, without any sort of pressure or expectation. Vulture, a queer, black, femme trans-man, introduces himself to Danielle by asking what pronouns she uses. Most of the anarchists depicted in the book are peaceful, only resorting to violence in cases of self-defense, and limiting their minimal criminal activity to squatting in abandoned buildings and shoplifting necessities from big box stores. They’re idealists, but they’re also flawed and human. Some of the younger characters can be heavy handed about declaring how punk/counter culture they are, still too insecure to realize they don’t need to prove anything to anyone. One of the story’s antagonists actually calls someone a poser like it’s the sickest burn in the world. Vulture is obsessed with posting everything to Instagram, while his partner behaves like he’s in some sort of dramatic art film. The characters bicker, disagree, and even get into scuffles, and it all feels incredibly genuine and authentic.

When Danielle first stumbles across the Anarchist commune where her deceased friend, Clay, was living, it seems like an Anarchists Utopia. There’s no capitalism, money, oppressive laws, or ruling bodies. Everyone helps each other out by sharing their food and resources, the town functions on trust alone, and all issues are solved through group consensus with the aid of mediators. There’s also a blood-red demon deer named Uliksi who reanimates dead animals and has a penchant for ripping out hearts. Clay co-founded Freedom with the best of intentions, but the wide-eyed idealist failed to consider the fact that any political system can be corrupted, no matter how perfect it seems. There’s a reason Utopia is based on the Greek “ou topos” which means “no place”. It’s because human nature is inherently flawed, making perfection impossible. Since the Golden Age and the Garden of Eden, somebody is always ruining paradise for everyone else, and the town of Freedom is no exception. In this case, it’s entitled fuckboys who use violence and threats to impose their will on everyone, turning the town from an Anarchist haven to a totalitarian dictatorship. Almost a year before Danielle’s arrival in Freedom, a man named Desmond took over the town, murdered those who disagreed with him, and prevented anyone from leaving. Terrified and desperate, Clay and his friends Rebecca, Anchor, and Doomsday resorted to summoning a demon named Uliski, a three-antlered deer with blood red fur, to stop the want-to-be despot. Most of you are realizing immediately that this plan will inevitably backfire because, much like trying to form a Utopian society, demon summoning never ends well. Personally, I wouldn’t know because my wife won’t even let me summon a single adorable, little owl even though I’m pretty sure (like 80% sure) it would turn out fine, not that I’m bitter about it or anything. Anyway…. Clay and his crew figure “fuck it, we’ll deal with the consequences later” and let Uliski rip out Desmond’s heart.

First panel: I’m standing in a summoning circle with a long-legged owl demon wearing a crown and boots. My wife is reacting in horror and asking “What are you… did you just summon a demon!?!” 2nd panel: I hug the demon and ask “Can I keep him? He’ll be good! I’ll train him, and him, and feed him souls every day!” 3rd panel: My annoyed wife snaps “No! Put. It. Back.” While I plead “But we love each other! Stolas will be sad if I send him back! Pleaaaase? He’s so polite and smart! He knows all about plants, precious stones, and astronomy.” Stolas turns his head upside down. 4th panel: “Watch!” I shout enthusiastically “Prince Stolas, what star is that outside?” “That is the Sun” Stolas responds. “Good Boy! Such a smart little demon fluffy face!” My wife is not impressed. 5th panel: Stolas explains “Take mistletoe to treat an inflammation of black bile and enhance fertility” while I hug him tightly. My wife points out “That’s not even remotely correct.”

According to the Ars Goetia, Prince Stolas is Great Prince of Hell who commands twenty-six legions of demons and imparts knowledge on those who summon him. He’s also super cute. Please do not take Mistletoe. It is very toxic.

Instead of fucking off back to the Underworld, or wherever it is endless spirits live, Uliski decides to stick around to continue his mission of hunting the vengeful and hateful who wield power over others, and reanimating animal corpses because he wasn’t already creepy enough already. At first, everyone is so glad that Desmond has been stopped and peace restored, they don’t really question the demon living in their town and even come to revere him. But Clay warns that Uliski will eventually turn on his summoners after one year, which leads us to Danielle’s arrival. She has a rather traumatic welcome after witnessing the bloodthirsty buck rip out Anchor’s heart, encountering a bunch of zombie wildlife, and dealing with town’s crazy drama, but instead of hauling ass out of the Animal Farm version of Dawn of the Dead, she resolves to stay and search for answers behind Clay’s suicide. Meanwhile, Freedom is in an uproar over whether or not their demonic protector should be dismissed, with half the town believing he’s keeping them safe and only kills when it’s justified, and the other half pointing out that murder may not be the best way to keep the peace. Once again, the town seems headed towards a Dystopian nightmare, with Uliski’s remaining summoners afraid for their lives, and a new charming and arrogant young man looking to “save” Freedom by enforcing his will on others.

$A gold-trimmed pen and ink drawing of a red deer with three antlers, two on the right and one on the left. The prongs of the antlers turn into veins which are connected to a human heart, surrounded by a fractured rib cage. Between the deer's antlers is the sigil for the goetic demon Furfur and the alchemical symbol for fire, painted gold.$

Uliski the demon deer

This is a story about how power causes corruption, especially when it’s wielded by violent young men dripping with privilege. While the novella is very pro-Anarchist, Killjoy keeps it from feeling too much like heavy handed propaganda by presenting a balanced view of her socio-political beliefs and chooses realism (well, other than the supernatural elements of course) over romanticism. The town of Freedom is presented as both an ideal and a warning; a community based on equality and cooperation is something to strive for, but, like any system, it can easily be corrupted by selfishness and fear even when everyone has the best of intentions. Hierarchies started to form without anyone realizing, and once those hierarchies were enforced through violence Freedom went from Anarchism to Authoritarianism, much like what happened after the Russian revolution.

As much as I loved The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion, I felt it would have worked much better as a full-length novel, rather than a novella. The world building, story set up, character development, and ending all seemed too rushed and I was left feeling underwhelmed and longing for more. The concept is so cool, a demon deer turning on its summoners as a revolution slowly brews from with the town, that I wanted to spend more time there and learn about all the characters and what brought them to Freedom. I especially wanted to see more of Danielle and Brynn’s relationship develop. These reasons are why I much prefer the sequel, The Barrow Will Send What It May. By the second book, Killjoy has already established the world and the main players in it and is able to spend more time on developing her characters, building suspense, and giving Danielle and Brynn time to explore their feelings for each other. It’s for these reasons that I strongly suggest reading the two novellas together. The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion feels incomplete on its own, but works well as the first chapter to an overarching story, and this is why I truly hope we will see many more chapters in the Danielle Cain series. I want to read a full-length novel about a band of Anarchists travelling from town to town solving mysteries and fighting demons, Scooby-Doo and Supernatural style, even if it is separated into several short stories. Killjoy clearly has many more stories to tell, and I look forward to reading them.

Five people in punk clothing colored to resemble the characters from Scooby-Doo. Furthest to the left is Danielle, a White woman with short, blonde hair. Next is Vulture, a tall, Black trans man with long hair and one half of his head shaved. Thursday, a Latino man in a leather vest is the middle, then Brynn, a White woman with red hair, a tattooed line on her forehead, and glasses. Her pants are covered in lgbtq, anarchist, and feminist patches. On the left is a chubby White woman, Doomsday with bobbed, brown hair.

Left to right are Danielle (as Scooby), Vulture (as Fred), Thursday (as Shaggy), Brynn (as Daphne), and Doomsday (as Velma). Anarchist Mystery Gang!

Tags: Anxiety Disorder, BIPOC, Bisexual, Black, Book Review, Demon, Disability, Gay, Latine/Latino, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Occult, Own Voices, Recommended, Trans, Young Adult

The Mine by Arnab Ray

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Westland (Indian publisher now owned by Amazon)

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

Audience: Adult/Mature

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

Takes Place in: Thar Desert, Rajasthan, India

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

Blurb

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

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

The greatest evil lies deep inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her name is Lilith, what did you guys expect?

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

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

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

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

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

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

This definitely feels like a stranger danger situation.

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

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

My Sweet Audrina by V.C. Andrews

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Genre: Gothic Horror, Romance, Thriller

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Intellectual Disability, Possible Autism, Physical Disability (bilateral above the knee amputee), Chronic Illness (Osteogenesis imperfecta/brittle bone disease), PTSD

Takes Place in: Southern USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Alcohol Abuse, Body Shaming, Bullying, Implied Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Childbirth, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Illness, Emotional Incest, Medical Torture/Abuse, Miscarriage, Mental Illness, Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Implied Self-Harm, Sexism, Sexual Abuse, Slut Shaming, Suicide Attempt, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

V.C. Andrews, author of the phenomenally successful Dollanganger series, has created a fascinating new cast of characters in this haunting story of love and deceit, innocence and betrayal, and the suffocating power of parental love.
Audrina Adare wanted so to be as good as her sister. She knew her father could not love her as he loved her sister. Her sister was so special, so perfect — and dead.
Now she will come face to face with the dangerous, terrifying secret that everyone knows. Everyone except…
My Sweet Audrina

Holy fuck, this book.

I’m curled up, holding my knees to my chest, and looking shell shocked. My right eye is twitching. “WTF” I ask as I stare into the void.

This book is definitely the winner of the OMGWTFBBQ award

If you’re unfamiliar with V. C. Andrews, she wrote gothic horror novels during the eighties about really messed up, toxic, abusive, families that Lifetime loves to turn into terrible made-for-TV movies. A standard Andrews book usually contains gas lighting, emotional and physical abuse, dark family secrets, and some of the most fucked up relationships ever put to paper that run the gambit from pedophilia to incest. Imagine if all guests on the Jerry Springer show were rich, beautiful, gothic heroines with enough skeletons in their closets to start their own ossuary, and you’ll have an idea of what you’re in for. They’re trash novels, but in the best possible way, written by a talented author who knows her audience is looking to be shocked and horrified, like splatterpunk without the gore. Her stories may be ridiculous and over-the-top at times, but never, ever dull, and of all her fucked up books, My Sweet Audrina is probably her most fucked up. It manages to contain nearly every content warning I have that doesn’t involve blood and gore (although there is a rather grisly scene where a woman miscarries and throws one of the blood clots at her mother in a fit of rage). There’s a brutal child rape, a lot of abuse by a manipulative bastard, everyone messing with Audrina’s mind, and a dead aunt who may or may not have been eaten by cannibals, so be forewarned, My Sweet Audrina is not for the squeamish.

Damian Adere, the family patriarch, is aptly named because the guy is just fucking evil. He’s greedy, immature, vain, sexist, lazy, abusive, controlling, narcissistic, and manages to destroy the lives of every woman he knows while still seeing himself as the victim because he’s just that fucking self-centered. Yet, he continues to get away with his awful behavior because he’s handsome, charming, and extremely manipulative, which honestly makes him even more frightening. In the first few chapters he comes off as kind of a dick but still likable. His daughter, Audrina, who acts as the book’s narrator, still loves and respects him. But over the course of the story as we witness his true nature, Damian quickly goes from seemingly well-intentioned but misguided, to a full-blown asshole, then finally becomes Satan incarnate. In fact, I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t some sort of sequel to The Omen where the Anti-Christ kid grows up to become a lazy, whiny, codependent, narcissistic asshat who gets married and lives in a dilapidated mansion that he never lets his daughter leave. Actually, comparing Damian to Satan seems unfair because even the Dark Lord isn’t that big of a flaming dick. I can just imagine the devil reading My Sweet Audrina and being utterly horrified. The other characters, save for our virtuous heroine, Audrina, aren’t a whole lot better, although a lot of their behavior can be more or less attributed to Damian’s abuse.

Satan is leaning back in his creepy dragon chair reading “My Sweet Audrina”. He has red skin, black horns, bat wings, furry goat legs, a goatee, and well-defined abs. The image is dark, and lit from below. Satan has a finger to his temple and comments “Wow, this guy is a DICK” (referring to Damian).

I just assume Satan is ripped

Audrina’s mother, Lucietta, had to give up her dream of becoming a concert pianist to marry Damian (because he didn’t want his wife to make more money than him), and now hides her misery by living in denial and drinking to numb the pain. She frequently lashes out at her sister, Ellsbeth, who has become bitter (again, thanks to Damian) and abusive, neglecting her own daughter, Vera. In turn, Vera has turned into a complete monster before the start of the book because nobody loves her and Damian (whom she sees as her father) constantly treats her like shit and compares her to his “perfect” daughter, Audrina. As horrible as Vera is (and she’s pretty fucking horrible), you can’t help but feel sorry for her. She’s forced to be the whore to Audrina’s virgin, which makes her hate and resents her cousin. She’s so desperate for love and attention that 14-year-old Vera has “sex” with an adult man (everyone acts like it’s consensual sex when it’s very clearly statutory rape), and acts seductively from a young age. Of course none of the adults think “Hey, this isn’t normal behavior for a child, maybe we should get her some help” they just decided “She’s just a slut, oh well, who cares.” Meanwhile Audrina is haunted by memories of a childhood rape, which her father keeps forcing her to remember in a sick attempt to make her “perfect” (I’m not even going to try and explain Damian’s troll logic on this one). He reinforces her role as the virgin by frequently telling his daughter that all men are evil and forcing her to cover up in old fashioned dresses lest she be attacked. Is it any wonder Audrina becomes terrified of sex and disgusted by nudity to the point that she can’t even be intimate with someone she loves without trauma? Of course Damian is totally fine with this because it means she’s less likely to have a relationship with any man that isn’t him. If that makes your skin crawl, well, it should, because even Audrina describes their relationship as being like husband and wife without the sex. Ew. At least there isn’t any actual incest like I was fearing, which is a first for a V C Andrews novel.

Even Lucietta isn’t safe from her husband’s slut shaming, as Damian flies into a rage if her outfits are too revealing and accuses her of flirting with the men at the parties he forces her to host. He wants to show off his pretty wife, but then gets ridiculously jealous when other men think she’s pretty and ends up throwing a tantrum. He loves to be surrounded by women who adore him, but doesn’t want to share, so everyone is essentially trapped in this giant, run down house where Damian can keep an eye on them, isolated from the rest of the world. Like I said, the dude is fucking evil, and doesn’t even realize it. Or maybe he does, but simply doesn’t give a shit. Basically, if there was a drinking game where you had to take a shot every time Damien pulls a dick move, no one would ever finish the book because they’d die from alcohol poisoning after a few chapters.

Now, you’re probably wondering where the diversity comes in. I chose this book because of its representation of disability which, while not ideal (especially in Sylvia’s case), was at least written by an author who herself had a physical disability for most of her life. As a teenager, Andrews developed severe arthritis and underwent multiple spinal surgeries to treat it. Andrews says this was the result of a back injury she sustained from falling on a staircase in high school, while her family claims it was something she was born with. Regardless, the resulting chronic pain required the use of a wheelchair or crutches for most of her life. Andrews lived at home, under the care of her mother, where she completed a four-year correspondence course in art, before starting her career as a writer. Her very first book, Flowers in the Attic, is about four children who are kept in the attic for years by their religious grandmother, and the toll it takes on their mental and physical well-being. Andrews said in a 1985 interview for Faces of Fear that Flowers in the Attic was based on her own feelings of frustration at being trapped at home. While accessibility for people with mobility issues still isn’t great, I can imagine it was even worse when Andrews was growing up, and she died four years prior to the passing of the Americans with Disabilities Act. This theme of feeling “trapped” continues in My Sweet Audrina, where five of the six women in the story have some kind of disability that limits their freedom, which Damien of course takes full advantage of. Even the stairs that may or may not have been the start of Andrews’ chronic pain and limited mobility feature prominently in the book. The Adere house’s staircase essentially goes on a killing spree, offing multiple family members to the point where I have to wonder if the stairs were constructed from the bones of murdered children and cursed relics. Or maybe it’s just haunted by all the ghosts of the people Damien pissed off (which I can only imagine is every person he’s ever met). Andrews’ representation of disability is definitely problematic, but also complex and extremely personal, which is what makes this story worth exploring. It’s one of the few horror novels I’ve been able to find about disability that was actually written by a disabled person.

Vera has brittle bone disease, frequently breaking an arm or leg at the slightest bump. Audrina’s younger sister, Sylvia has autism and/or an intellectual disability (it’s not handled or explained well by Andrews) that requires full time care. Lucietta seems to have a heart disease that limits her activity. Billie, the Adere’s neighbor and one of the few likable characters in the book, is a bilateral amputee following complications from diabetes. Then there’s Audrina, whose untreated PTSD leaves her too terrified to leave her yard, even though she desperately wants to go to school and have friends. Audrina is sort of a Mary Sue for Andrews, what with her violet eyes, magically color changing hair, and extraordinary beauty (seriously, WTF?). They’re both artistic, unable to leave the house, and need to rely heavily on their families to function which causes them great frustration. The depictions of women with disabilities in My Sweet Audrina aren’t particularly progressive, and can even be downright ablest at time (especially when it comes to Sylvia), but the characters are all unique with very different personalities, outlooks, and ways of dealing with their disabilities.

I’m drawing a picture of Audrina. The first panel shows a stereotypically attractive woman in a white, conservative, Victorian dress. She has large, sparkly, violet eyes, and long rainbow hair that starts as red at her scalp, and moves down the spectrum to indigo and violet at the ends of her hair. In the second panel I’m looking at my creation with horror and ask, “The fuck did I just draw?” I’m wearing a purple shirt with bats that says “spoopy” in violet glitter.

What Audrina looks like, presumable. Unrelated, but I wish I had that Spoopy shirt in real life.

Audrina desperately wishes for freedom and is frustrated by her PTSD, but without proper help and treatment she struggles to deal with her trauma (thanks a fucking lot, Damien). She does try to force herself to “get over it” a few times, and it doesn’t go well. Vera, on the other hand, seems proud of her disability, bragging about her delicate bones and teasing Audrina for having “peasant bones”, though it’s most likely an act to make herself feel better. Vera will frequently play up her disability to get out of doing chores, and even purposely hurt herself for attention, even though her mother and Damien seem fairy unconcerned by her injuries. Billie, on the other hand, is ashamed of her residual limbs, and goes to great effort to hide them. Her husband left her after her legs were amputated, and she now sees herself as “damaged” and “unlovable” despite being drop-dead gorgeous and able to function just fine with the use of a wheeled board. Although Billie continues to live her life and seems pretty happy for the most part, she’s still incredibly insecure, making her an easy target for Damien. Finally there’s Sylvia, the youngest Adare daughter, who gets ignored and insulted by pretty much everyone except Audrina, her appointed caretaker. Because why would Damien get actual help when he can just make Audrina play Occupational Therapist for free? And then everyone seems ~shocked~ that Sylvia’s not making much progress when she has a child (who only just started going to school herself) as her teacher. At least Sylvia gets some revenge on her awful family. It’s never outright confirmed, but is strongly implied that she knows more than she lets on and allows people to underestimate her abilities so she can better manipulate them (and occasionally possibly murder them). Part of me really hopes Sylvia is knowingly screwing with everyone as a sort of “fuck you” to her neurotypical family who constantly calls her really ableist slurs and compare her to an animal, because they really fucking deserve it. Now if only she’d arrange for Damien to have a little accident….

My Sweet Audrina is a combination of exploitation horror and chick lit, meant to grab your attention from the first paragraph and brand its shocking subject manner deep into your brain so that years from now you’ll still be thinking “God, that was a fucked up book.” And if you’re wondering why I would inflict this on myself, well, A) Because I’m a horror fan, that’s kind of what I do, and B) It’s just so damn enjoyable. It’s a wonderful guilty pleasure I couldn’t put down until the end, and Andrews is a talented writer who is fully aware of what she’s creating. So what if the story can sometimes read like Soap Opera fan fiction written by a fourteen-year-old? My Sweet Audrina is especially interesting when viewed as a personal exploration of the author’s feelings of being “trapped’ by her chronic pain and mobility issues. For fans of tragic heroines, gothic horror, and guilty pleasures, I’d definitely recommend My Sweet Audrina.

Tags: Adult, Amputee, Autism, Book Review, Brittle Bone Disease, Chronic Illness, Disability, Gothic, Intellectual Disability, Own Voices, Physical Disability, PTSD, Recommended, Romance, Thriller

The Loney by Andrew Michael Hurley

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Genre: Gothic, Folk Horror, Psychological Horror, Mystery

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Disability (Speech Disorder – muteness, Cognitive/Learning Disability, PTSD)

Takes Place in: Lancashire, UK

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Racism, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Homophobia, Illness, Medical Torture/Abuse, Medical Procedures, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse, Racism, Slurs, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

When the remains of a young child are discovered during a winter storm on a stretch of the bleak Lancashire coastline known as the Loney, a man named Smith is forced to confront the terrifying and mysterious events that occurred forty years earlier when he visited the place as a boy. At that time, his devoutly Catholic mother was determined to find healing for Hanny, his disabled older brother. And so the family, along with members of their parish, embarked on an Easter pilgrimage to an ancient shrine.

But not all of the locals were pleased to see visitors in the area. And when the two brothers found their lives entangling with a glamorous couple staying at a nearby house, they became involved in more troubling rites. Smith feels he is the only one to know the truth, and he must bear the burden of his knowledge, no matter what the cost. Proclaimed a “modern classic” by the Sunday Telegraph (UK), The Loney marks the arrival of an important new voice in fiction.

Autumn is normally considered the season for all things horror, due to holidays like Samhain, All Hallows’ Eve/Halloween, and the Day of the Dead in Europe and the Americas, but the other seasons have their own share of scary stories and traditions. Summer is perfect for slasher flicks, spooky stories by the campfire, and the Ghost Festival is celebrated in East and Southeast Asia. The long, dark nights of winter inspired the Victorians to tell ghost stories and Algonquin-speaking people associated the season with the cannibalistic monsters. But spring, generally associated with new life, rebirth, flowers, and cute baby animals in the Northern Hemisphere, is the odd one out. Other than Bram Stoker’s famous short story, Dracula’s Guest, which takes place on Walpurgis Night, The Loney is the probably the only scary story I’ve ever read set during the Spring.

The first image is of a Jack-o-Lantern on a bed of autumn leaves, surrounded by candles, marigolds, soul cakes, and a sugar skull. It says “creepy”. Next is a snowy night in a pine forest, with a full moon and a wendigo that says “scary”. The third says “spooky” and depicts an offering of oranges, joss paper, incense and red candles, with little ghost is surrounded by Hitodama. The final image is of two birds snuggling on a spring day with butterflies and cherry blossoms. It says, “Not really that scary.”

I mean, I guess if you’re scared of flowers and baby animals Spring might be scary….

The Loney was written by an English Teacher, and boy does it show. It’s overflowing with symbolism, deeply complicated characters, religious imagery, and all the other stuff that gets pretentious professors all hot and bothered. This is the kind of book that lends itself well to long, dry, dissertations about death and rebirth, or some other equally clichéd thesis, like how everything is a metaphor for sex. Not that any of this is bad, mind you, just don’t expect a classic horror story so much as a coming-of-age character exploration set in a gloomy, shit hole town that leaves you feeling creeped out and disturbed. There’s a lot more focus on the environment and characters than there is on the actual story (or lack thereof). It reminds me of one of those artsy games with no plot or clear goals where you just wander around and explore the gorgeous environment, like The Path (the game, not the TV series). Which, again, isn’t a bad thing if you’re into walking simulators, but I miss having a three act story structure, and a build up of suspense. So my reaction to The Loney was along the lines of “bored, bored, bored, do something already, wow that’s creepy, damn these people are messed up, bored, bored, is something going to happen now or what, so borrrreeed, stop talking for fuck’s sake, bored, HOLY SHIT WTF OMG, oh, well I guess that’s the end.” And then I was left wondering what the fuck I had just read.

While the pointless milling about can get tedious (really, REALLY tedious), it’s still an entertaining and creepy book. I wouldn’t exactly call it horror, since The Loney isn’t scary per se, but it is definitely disturbing. There are still a few of the standard horror “shock value” scenes you’d expect, y’know, the kind where any person with common sense would take it as an obvious sign to turn the fuck around because it’s clear they just stumbled into some Blair Witch, demonic serial killer, Eldritch abomination crap? But most of the creepiness comes from the irrational religious fervor of the adults (except, ironically, the priest), and their disturbing obsession with “curing” the unnamed protagonist’s disabled brother, Hanny. Not for his own benefit, since he seems perfectly happy as is, and could probably function on his own just fine if given a chance, but as part of some selfish desire to see a miracle and be closer to God.

Now here’s the thing about being a disabled person in horror fiction, you can come in one of three flavors. You can either be a victim (Audrey Hepburn in Wait Until Dark, the mute woman in The Tingler, Mark from Friday the 13th Part 2), the “psycho” (pretty much every movie killer ever, because mental illness apparently makes you evil), or some sort of disabled version of the “magical negro” trope (the little girl from the Langoliers, “Duddits” from Dreamcatcher, Tom Cullen from The Stand, and every other disabled person in a Steven King novel). But Hanny doesn’t seem to fall into any of these groups. He’s certainly not helpless, a monster, or “magical”, despite what those around him may think. For example, late in the book Hanny manages to uncover and successfully load a rifle (despite having little to no experience doing so), sneak out of the house by muffling his foot steps on a blanket and bribing the dog with treats, then find his way across dangerous terrain in the middle of the night. And when the narrator tries to follow him? He ends up almost drowning, and Hanny has to save his pathetic butt. Hell, I can barely find the bathroom in my own house without turning the light on, much less load a gun in the dark and go for a night hike in the English equivalent of Lovecraft country. But despite being able to do things military personnel take months to learn, Hanny is still considered “helpless” by those around him because he has a learning disability and doesn’t communicate in a way anyone else has bothered to learn. And he CAN communicate. Hanny is clearly shown using hand gestures and objects to try and communicate his emotions and desires, but is mostly ignored by everyone, save his brother, who apparently can’t wrap their brains around the concept of non-verbal communication. The priest, probably the only moral, well adjusted adult in the whole story, is also the only person to question if Hanny even wants to be cured. Like, he would literally have been fine if someone had just thought to equip him with an Alternative and Augmentative Commination system. But no, they want a miracle, they want Hanny to give it to them, screw what he wants or needs. And that’s pretty much how everything goes to shit. Because most of the characters in the story can’t seem to comprehend that anyone outside their narrow view of normal could possible be happy. The narrator describes how determined his mother and her church buddies are to reject anyone different, like a fundamentalist Catholic version of Mean Girls.

An older, WASP-y woman in a houndstooth jacket is talking to her son (Hanny), who is wearing a sweater-vest and holding up a sign that says, “This place is evil and we need to leave NOW”. His mother is smiling indulgently and says, “I’m so sorry dear, I just don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.” Hanny looks annoyed and is rolling his eyes.

Hanny has to put up with so much crap from his neurotypical family

So often in fiction “curing” a disability is automatically seen as a good thing, because it’s just assumed that being able-bodied and neurotypical is the only way to have a happy, fulfilling life. And if a disabled person does seem happy? Then they’re considered some sort of inspirational martyr for the able-bodied to admire. Obviously this attitude is really freaking ableist and arrogant, as numerous disability advocates have pointed out. If a person with a disability would prefer to be rid of it, that’s an extremely personal decision, and not one intended to serve as a happy ending for the able-bodied and neurotypical. Basically, assuming everyone with a disability feels the same way about it is pretty shitty, as is acting like they can’t make their own decisions. And that’s what makes The Loney different, it’s not a typical “oh, the poor disabled person was cured by a miracle, now they can be happy!” fairy tail. Instead it’s a gothic horror story about how fucked up that attitude is, and how trying to “fix” someone without their knowledge or consent so they can serve as an inspirational story is seriously messed up. Of course, in this case it’s taken to an extreme where the parent’s misguided stubbornness results in the death, misery, and despair of a lot of people. Hanny makes it out more or less okay (albeit now suffering from some serious guilt he doesn’t understand), with his oblivious parents none the wiser, but the narrator becomes an unstable wreck with PTSD who stalks his brother until Hanny forces him in therapy. Essentially, The Loney is the antithesis of inspiration porn (yes, the link is safe for work, chill).

Two women are in a night club. A white woman in a glittery gold dress and blonde hair dyed pink at the bottom, is bending over to speak to an Asian woman in a motorized wheel chair. The woman in the wheel chair has goth makeup, a large tattoo of a red rose on her right arm, and is wearing a sexy red dress. The woman in gold tells the woman in red “Oh my gawwwwd? You’re, like, soooo brave and inspirtational!” The woman in red looks confused and asks “For getting drunk at a club? Do I know you?”

It’s actually because she ate two jumbo orders of nachos by herself, now that is truly inspirational. I should point out I have no idea what people wear at clubs, so one of them is a semi-goth chick, and the other looks like Jem.

The plot still drags though. Like, a lot. And Hurley uses the word “said” too much. Replied, snapped, exclaimed, responded, mused, just pick a different freaking word! Seriously, you’re an English teacher, use your thesaurus. But while it wasn’t quite my cup of tea, I can still recommend it to people looking for a rich, gloomy story full of atmosphere and some truly messed up characters.

Tags: Book Review, Cognitive/Learning Disability, Disability, Folk Horror, Gothic, Mystery, Psychological Horror, PTSD, Recommended, Speech Disorder

Ten by Gretchen McNeil

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Harper Collins

Genre: Mystery, Psychological Horror, Killer/Slasher

Audience: Y/A

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

Takes Place in: Seattle, USA

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Jumbies by Tracey Baptiste

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Algonquin Young Readers

Genre: Monster, Myths and Folklore, Supernatural

Audience: Children

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

Takes Place in: Trinidad and Tobago

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shutter by Courtney Alameda

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Square Fish Books

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

Audience: Y/A

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

Takes Place in: type here

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great teamwork there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Girl, Stolen by April Henry

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Genre: Thriller

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Disability (Vision Impairment, Cognitive, Learning Disability)

Takes Place in: Oregon, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Alcohol Abuse, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Child Abuse, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Illness, Medical Procedures, Physical Abuse, Mentions of Rape/Sexual, Slurs, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Sixteen-year-old Cheyenne Wilder is sleeping in the back of the car while her step mom fills a prescription for antibiotics. Before Cheyenne realizes what’s happening, the car is being stolen.

Griffin hadn’t meant to kidnap Cheyenne and once he finds out that not only does she have pneumonia, but that she’s blind, he really doesn’t know what to do. When his dad finds out that Cheyenne’s father is the president of a powerful corporation, everything changes–now there’s a reason to keep her.

How will Cheyenne survive this nightmare?

As you can probably guess, Cheyenne is not having a good day. Though her kidnapper’s, Griffin, isn’t going much better. The story alternates between the points of view of these two main characters, as they anxiously stumble their way through a bad situation. Cheyenne, who has been blind for about three years following a car accident, describes her world in sounds, smells, and sensations. Sick, feverish, and stranded without her guide dog and cane, she does her best to outwit her captors and survive her terrifying ordeal. Meanwhile, Griffin, who’s almost as panicked as Cheyenne, struggles between listening to his conscience and obeying his abusive, criminal father. You can sense his denial, born from years of abuse, his desperation for love and acceptance, and the fear that’s holding him back. The two characters, both trapped in terrible situations, form an unlikely bond as they nervously wait for Griffin’s father to make a decision.

Not having any sort of severe visual impairment myself (other than my corrective lenses), I can’t say how accurate April Henry’s depiction of a blind/low vision person is. But Cheyenne’s disability does seem to be well pretty researched, as far as I can tell anyway. For example, Cheyenne still has some of her peripheral vision in one eye, a nice touch since about 85% of legally blind people have at least some light and/or form perception, and complete blindness is relatively rare. And the description of how a guide dog and its owner work together sounded pretty accurate, at least from what I’ve read. She doesn’t fall victim to any of the common blindness tropes either. Then there’s this reviewer, who is herself blind, and says the portrayal of Cheyenne’s visual impairment is pretty spot on, and relatable. So there you go.

A blind/low vision man examining a hideous jacket and tells his friend “this is the ugliest effin’ jacket I have ever seen, it looks like you stole it off a patriotic clown. Please burn this immediately for the good of humanity.” Annoyed, his friend responds “You’re blind, how can you even tell what it looks like?” “Dude, I’m not that blind, though I might lose all of my vision if I have to look at this thing any longer.” “Why are you so salty?”

He’s salty because people keep accusing him of “faking” his blindness just because he can sort of see things six inches from his face with one of his eyes.

Henry could have easily made her heroine a broken bird that readers pitied, or turned the story into inspiration porn, but she doesn’t. Instead, Cheyenne is characterized as a young woman who went through a traumatic event, which understandably caused her to grieve, and then has to adapt to a completely different way of interacting with the world which is challenging, but certainly not anything extraordinary. Cheyenne works with her therapist and teachers to pull herself out of her depression and learn a new skill set, all without becoming a “feel good” story for sighted readers. She isn’t sweet and chipper about it either, our heroine gets frustrated, feels sorry for herself, lashes out, and gets grumpy. She’s allowed to be a flawed person, instead of some sort of blind saint who forgives the ableists. Although she now relies much more on sound, smell, and touch to function, her senses are the same as before, Cheyenne just learns to pay more attention to them, as oppose to getting magically heightened senses that turn her into a ninja. And yes, Cheyenne is feeling weak and helpless after being kidnapped, but this is due to being severely ill with pneumonia, not her low vision. And even sick and terrified, she’s still a tough, resourceful character.

Speaking of blind ninjas, did you know Daredevil and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles share an origin story? It has nothing to do with Girl, Stolen, it’s just cool.

Griffin, meanwhile, is complex and interesting. You can’t help but feel bad for the guy, even if Cheyenne isn’t in a position to be sympathetic, and Henry doesn’t try to excuse his actions by invoking pity in the reader (Henry never tries to get you to feel sorry for the characters, she just presents the facts of their lives). Poor Griffin’s mom left when he was young, his dad is an abusive alcoholic who forces him into a life of crime, and he has basically zero support system. We find out later that he’s Dyslexic, though unaware of it, and was forced to drop out of school because he struggles with reading. It’s an interesting contrast to Cheyenne, who comes from a wealthy background and goes to a private school that’s able to accommodate her. After her accident she had private nurses who cared for her in her home. Her father sent her to a special program where she learned how to function independently without her vision. They’re able to afford a guide dog so Cheyenne can get around. Ideally, all people with disabilities would have the same access to accommodations that Cheyenne does, but unfortunately that’s simply not the case, especially for people with low incomes or living in poverty. Griffin is one of those kids who slips through the cracks. He was never tested for Dyslexia, and his teachers and father apparently wrote him off, he gets zero help with his reading skills and is forced to drop out of school, believing his only option in life is to be a criminal like his father. Although Henry isn’t heavy handed about it, she makes clear what a world of difference it makes when people have access to proper accommodations, a constant source of frustration for anyone with a disability. Seriously, go on any disability website, and you will see a legion of posts about the daily frustration and obstacles that able-bodied and neurotypical people don’t even notice, not to mention the constant struggles with health insurance and trying to get accommodations approved at school and work.

In the first panel, a doctor is looking at her laptop when she hears a nurse yell off screen “Why didn’t anyone tell me the sink was broken!?!?!” Irritated, she responds, “*sigh* didn’t you read the sign?” In the second panel we see the nurse, who is blind and holding a cane, soaking wet from the malfunctioning sink. He snaps “If by sign, you mean the piece of paper you taped up that could say literally anything, then NO, OBVIOUSLY I DIDN’T.” Sheepish, the doctor says “Oh.... right. Sorry.”

Other pet peeves of the visually impaired include the little stickers on fruit and people who ask them to guess who they are by their voice. Seriously, don’t do that.

As for the story itself, it’s definitely a thriller, and a well written one. I couldn’t put Girl, Stolen down and ended up finishing it in only a few sittings (and that’s only because I was interrupted by annoying grown up responsibilities). Yeah, I know I haven’t gone over the writing that much, but honestly, I can’t really get into the plot without also going into spoiler territory, and part of what makes this story so great is the suspense. Of course, there are still a few flaws. Usually Henry is able to blend the backstory of the characters smoothly into the story, but it does get bogged down by random info dumps in a few places. I like when I learn new things from books, but not when they’re awkwardly shoehorned in. You don’t need to stop the story to explain what vehicle identification numbers are, I could have just Googled “VIN” if I didn’t know. Nor do we need a completely unnecessary explanation of what the Nike company is. In fact, why even bother using a real company in your book if you then have to explain what they do? Thankfully these instances are few and far between. The two main characters were interesting and well written, but everyone else was pretty bland, especially Griffin’s one-dimensional, evil father.

Oh, and for any readers who are visually impaired, the audiobook narrator, Kate Rudd does a pretty good job, though she does seem to struggle with male voices (some of them sound pretty silly), which can be distracting during a suspenseful scene. But for the most part it’s well acted; Cheyenne sounds great, and Rudd really makes the listener feel the tension. A sequel, Count all her Bones, came out this past May.

Tags: Book Review, Cognitive/Learning Disability, Disability, Recommended, Thriller, Vision Impairment, Young Adult

Guardian of the Dead by Karen Healey

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Little Brown Books for Young Readers

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Monster, Myth and Folklore

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Māori characters, Black character, Chinese New Zealander character, asexual character, mentally ill character

Takes Place in: New Zealand

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Homophobia, Racism, Incest, Gore, Violence, Death, Sexual Assault, Rape (nothing graphic or “on screen”), Gaslighting, Body Shaming, Cannibalism, Sexism, Abelism, Mental Illness, Illness, Physical Abuse, Natural Disaster

Blurb

Seventeen-year-old Ellie Spencer is just like any other teenager at her boarding school. She hangs out with her best friend, Kevin; she obsesses over Mark, a cute and mysterious bad boy; and her biggest worry is her paper deadline.

But then everything changes. The news headlines are all abuzz about a local string of killings that share the same morbid trademark: the victims were discovered with their eyes missing. Then a beautiful yet eerie woman enters Ellie’s circle of friends and develops an unhealthy fascination with Kevin, and a crazed old man grabs Ellie in a public square and shoves a tattered Bible into her hands, exclaiming, “You need it. It will save your soul.” Soon, Ellie finds herself plunged into a haunting world of vengeful fairies in an epic battle for immortality.

Debut author Karen Healey introduces a savvy and spirited heroine with a fresh, strong voice. Full of deliciously creepy details, this incredible adventure is a deftly crafted story of Māori mythology, romance, and betrayal.

Reading any Y/A adult book with romance and a female lead is always a crapshoot; you get Hunger Games, or you could end up with a literary trash heap of sexism and poorly written teenagers (*cough* Twilight *cough*). There are SO many awful young adult books out there, and even the better written ones can still fall into the all-too-common trap of making the otherwise badass heroine a lovesick damsel with bad judgment. Even if the female lead manages not to turn into a teen stereotype, the other female characters may still turn into one-dimensional romantic rivals. Plus, I just hate romantic books.

So you can imagine my concern when I first picked up Guardian of the Dead, a horror story about myths, magic, and saving New Zealand. I was prepared for another crappy, hackneyed YA adult novel, and instead I found myself falling in love with this magical book before I finished the first chapter. Healy’s characters are amazingly written, they’re relatable and realistic, strong, flawed, and super diverse. In fact, this is the first horror story I’ve ever read with an asexual character. I actually squealed out loud at the early reveal and ran to tell all my friends that “holy shit there’s a well written ace character in this book!!!” Healy also does an amazing job of describing her diverse cast without fetishizing them (or comparing skin color to food), while making sure her characters either get called out or they acknowledge their error when any of them say something sexist, racist, or homophobic.

Ellie, the protagonist and narrator, is flat out awesome, flaws and all. She isn’t the conventionally gorgeous female lead that plagues most young adults novels. She’s a tall, chubby girl with a flat chest, pasty skin, and zits, beautifully average and relatable, who isn’t relegated to the position of the dieting, un-dateable, fat friend. She’s a badass who doesn’t take crap from anyone, has no problem being confrontational, and can hold her own in a fight. Ellie may be self-conscious about her height and belly rolls in the beginning, comparing herself to, and getting jealous of other women, but over the course of the story we get to watch her go from an insecure girl, to a confident woman. Plus, speaking as a chubby person of average appearance, it’s so refreshing to have a heroine who doesn’t look like a supermodel.

Bad Y/A Fiction: A conventionally beautiful, slender, woman wearing a tank top, leather jacket and fingerless gloves exclaims “I’m so plain and unattractive! How will I ever get a hot boyfriend now?” Vs. Guardian of the Dead: A tall, chubby, blond woman, with a few zits on her face says “I know I can be insecure about my appearance, but I’m working hard on improving my self-esteem, and I don’t need a boyfriend to make me feel good about myself.”

There’s nothing wrong with being conventionally attractive, but PLEASE don’t act like the average woman looks like a super model, or imply that being confident in your appearance is a bad thing.

The other characters are pretty great too. Mark, Ellie’s major crush, is an awkward outcast, with his own set of crippling insecurities that make it difficult for him to socialize, a far cry from the other cool, calm, bland Y/A love interests. Kevin, Ellie’s best (and only) friend at school is also handled well. Instead of being an unrequited love interest, or the gay (or in this case asexual) best friend, Kevin gets to play the role of the damsel, or in this case “dude”, in distress. Instead of being a prop who exists only to aid Ellie, Kevin truly is her best friend, and she worries about his happiness and safety without expecting anything in return. In turn, Kevin trusts her with his deepest secrets, and provides emotional support and aid when she’s at her lowest. The two share a close and meaningful relationship of mutual support and respect.

Though, honestly, I found the relationship between Ellie and Iris to be the most interesting one in the book, much more so than any of the romantic ones. Initially Ellie strongly dislikes Iris because she’s jealous of Iris’ appearance and her close relationship with Kevin, but Iris is no one-dimensional mean girl out to steal herself a man. Instead, Iris is portrayed as an incredibly kind, caring and loyal person. Ellie openly admits, even in the beginning, that any hostility she feels towards Iris is due solely to her own insecurity, and she actively tries to work on that throughout the course of the book. As she makes an effort to be less judgmental, a friendship blossoms between the two young women, and Iris proves herself to be an invaluable ally, offering Ellie advice, trust, and unwavering support throughout the story. Instead of competing over Kevin’s friendship, they join forces to protect him.

This book is wonderfully devoid of one of my biggest pet peeves in young adult fiction, the rival “mean girl”. Why are women so often forced to become romantic rivals, with one in the role of the “good girl”, while the other is portrayed as the “bitch” who uses sex to “steal” men? But in Guardian of the Dead, there’s no fighting over a male love interest. At one point in the story Ellie leaves in disgust when she finds out one of her crushes is still in a relationship. She’s horrified that he would treat women with such disregard, and turns the asshole down then and there. Hell, Iris even encourages Ellie when she notices she has a crush. Friendship and loyalty are always placed above romance, and selfishness is a major character flaw.

Bad Y/A Fiction: The beautiful woman from the previous comic is fighting with Iris while yelling “Stay away from my boyfriend you skank!” Iris shouts back “What’s wrong with you!? We were just talking? You two aren’t even dating!” Vs. Guardian of the Dead: Ellie stands in front or Iris, shielding her from danger. Ellie tells Iris “Get behind me, I’ll hold her off so you can escape!” To which Iris responds “No way, I’m not leaving you!” Iris brandishes her high heel as weapon (yes, she really does fight a monster with her shoe).

Iris may not have any martial arts training like Ellie, but she will totally put an eye out with that high heel if she has to.

The book manages to avoid the whole annoying virgin/whore thing altogether. There’s no slut shaming, and a character’s interest in sex (or lack thereof in Kevin’s case) has no relation to their morality. For example, one of the side characters, Samia, chooses to wear a hijab around men, but prefers to walk around the girl’s dorm in her underwear. Her behavior doesn’t feel like a contradiction, prudishness, or exhibitionism, Samia just wears whatever makes her comfortable. The only character who comes close to a stereotypical, evil seductress, is the actual villain – a literal monster. And she, at least, has an actual reason to behave the way she does, as opposed to just being horrible for the fun of it. She might be the antagonist, but her actions and overall attitude towards humans is understandable in light of the history of her species. She is still pretty evil, but she’s not seen as a “seductress” so much as a sexual predator who uses magic to bewitch men, whom she sees as little more than disposable possessions.

Which brings me to my next point, the emphasis put on consent in this book is amazing. Consent is a HUGE deal, and victims of assault are believed and supported by the other characters. Healy makes it clear that any type of coercion, whether it’s by force, trickery, or magic, used to obtain sex is rape. Why is this so exciting for me? Because so many Y/A books seem to glorify abusive relationships and coercion. Edward and Bella’s relationship in Twilight meets all the criteria of an abusive relationship, according to the National Domestic Violence Hotline and Women’s Aid. Hush, Hush perpetuates rape culture by constantly dismissing the female lead’s fear of her stalker “love interest”. One of her teacher’s literally tells her the creepy “hero” is only sexually harassing her because he “likes” her and it’s not a big deal. Bookshop goes into all the ways Hush Hush, and other crappy Y/A novels promote rape culture, so I won’t go off on a tangent about it here, but suffice it to say, Guardian of the Dead not only rejects all of those gross tropes, but calls them out. The aforementioned villainess’ first victim is shown to be completely broken and traumatized from his experience, and Iris calls her a rapist. That’s right, female on male sexual assault is acknowledged and treated seriously. The goddess, Hine-nui-te-pō (who is also an incest survivor) angrily points out that Māui sexually assaulted her when he tried to crawl in her vagina as she slept, but he’s still considered a hero because history only focuses on Māui. A seemingly charming boy is revealed as a manipulative asshole when he tries to kiss and grope Ellie after she’s changed her mind, and she’s understandably pissed. Even Ellie, when given the opportunity to use magic to force someone to love her back, briefly contemplates the idea. However, she quickly realizes what she’s actually considering, and regrets even entertaining such a horrible notion.

Bad Y/A Fiction: The handsome love interest has forced the Y/A heroine against the way and is grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him. She’s swoons “I don’t care that you’re controlling and cruel, you’re hot, and that’s all that matters! It’s true love!” Vs. Guardian of the Dead: Ellie punches the same handsome man in the face while yelling “No means no, jerk!”

I imagined Ellie punching Edward from Twilight while drawing this, and it was so satisfying.

I could go on forever about all the reasons I loved this book; the themes from Greek and Māori myths, the nerdy comic books mentions, the humorously realistic depiction of boarding school life, the understanding of everyday racism, the beautiful descriptions of New Zealand, the lack of trite love triangles and abusive “bad boys”, the whole world Healey has created, etc., but this review is already pretty long, so I’m going to summarize it as this: Healy takes what could have been another bland, generic Y/A novel and turned it into something beautiful, unique, and diverse. Here’s hoping for a sequel from Healey!

Tags: Asexual, Asian, Asian New Zealander, BIPOC, Body Diversity, Book Review, Chinese, Disability, Highly Recommended, LGBTQIA, Maori, Mental Illness, Monster, Myths and Folklore, Pacific Islander, Young Adult

The Drowning Girl by Caitlín R. Kiernan

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Penguin

Genre: Monster, Werewolf, Romance, Ghosts/Haunting, Psychological Horror, Mystery

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Lesbian characters, trans character, mentally ill character

Takes Place in: Northeastern USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Mentions of Transphobia, Suicide, Emotional Abuse

Please note, I found out recently that Caitlín R. Kiernan has expressed racist views on Twitter, detailed here. – 5/10/24

The Drowning Girl is a beautifully written, psychological horror novel about a young woman, Imp, whose schizophrenia is making it difficult for her to determine the nature of the mysterious woman haunting her. Is she a siren using her charm to lure Imp to disaster? A werewolf? A human stalker who can blur the lines of reality? Imp struggles to sort out the truth before she loses herself. Queer romance, myths, and art combine to create this award winning novel.

So did I like it? Well……. Sort of?

In theory I should have loved it. It takes place on my home turf of New England, the main character is a queer artist (like me!), she’s dating an incredibly well written trans character, the story has a creepy mystery, gorgeous imagery, and one of the best representations of mental illness I’ve ever read. But I struggled to get through the Drowning Girl. I’d pick it up, read a chapter, and then forget about it for a month. I don’t know why I didn’t devour this book as quickly as I do others, there wasn’t really anything I disliked about it, and it wasn’t boring, but it just didn’t seem to capture my attention. It reminded me of one of those award winning art films that critics love and you have to sit through in college film classes. There’s nothing bad about it per se, but you’d still rather be watching Bad Boys II, or some other equally ridiculous action flick.

In the first panel I'm in the hallway of a movie theater looking at a poster for "The English Patient" and saying "Oooh, I heard this was a great film!" In the next panel I'm in the theater looking completely disinterested, and repeating "bored, bored, bored, bored" over and over as I suffer through the movie.

Ugh, I should’ve just watched Sharknado again.

Maybe I’m just not sophisticated enough to appreciate the non-linear, stream of conciseness (i.e. all over the place) writing, or perhaps I’m too clueless to fully comprehend the subtly and symbolism of the story. But I found it really jarring to have Imp describe her girlfriend, Abalyn, play Kingdom Hearts one minute, and then have a poetic, jumbled passage full of fairy tale metaphors the next. And I get it, the writing style is intended to represent Imp’s mental illness by showing the disorganization of her thought process, the random associations she makes where none exist, and her difficulty remembering what’s real and what’s imagined. But that doesn’t always make for an enjoyable read.

I guess I’m just incredibly picky when it comes to “artsy” prose and magical realism. When it works, it works well, but when it doesn’t, it just becomes a confusing, irritating erratic mess, and with the Drowning Girl it was kind of a crap shoot.

I'm floating upside down in blue space, surrounded by dreamlike imagery of a crow wearing a cloak, a close-up of a crescent moon, a wolf's skull, pills, a crab, and a mermaid with pale, corpse-like skin. The mermaid's human half is intact but her fish half is nothing but bone. Her organs hang out of her human torso. I look confused and mutter

WTF is going on? Did I take expired cold medicine again?

Since I’m starting to feel bad for picking on this book so much (and it’s by no means a bad book), I want to address one of the things I did really like about the story, how Imp’s mental illness was treated. It wasn’t romanticized, it was just a part of her that could make her life more challenging, but not horrible. Medication made her illness manageable, but didn’t make it disappear entirely, and she was able to continue working, date, hang out with friends, pursue hobbies, and lived on her own. She would go through rough patches, some she could handle on her own, and some she couldn’t. Her therapist was supportive, without telling Imp what to do. Overall, I felt like it was a very realistic depiction of a woman with a mental illness, which is rather uncommon in fiction where the mentally ill are usually written as either asylum inmates, criminals, or manic pixie dream girls.

Overall, I really, really wanted to love this one. It had all the right ingredients, rave reviews, a talented author, but the final result was disappointing, at least for me. It wasn’t bad, but I just couldn’t bring myself to give it a “highly recommended”. That doesn’t mean other people won’t find this book amazing, and I strongly encourage others, especially those with more sophisticated taste than mine, to give it a read. Because you may love it. Or you may find it “meh”, but at least you won’t regret reading it.

Tags: Adult, Book Review, Disability, Ghosts/Haunting, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Mental Illness, Monster, Mystery, Own Voices, Psychological Horror, Recommended, Romance, Trans, Werebeast

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The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion by Margaret Killjoy

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Tor

Genre: Demon, Occult

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Gay, lesbian, and bisexual characters,Trans character and author, Black character, Latine/Hispanic character, Character with anxiety disorder

Takes Place in: Iowa, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Forced Captivity, Gore, Oppression, Police Harassment, Mentions of Rape/Sexual Assault and Abuse, Suicide, Violence

Blurb

Uliski the demon deer

Left to right are Danielle (as Scooby), Vulture (as Fred), Thursday (as Shaggy), Brynn (as Daphne), and Doomsday (as Velma). Anarchist Mystery Gang!

Tags: Anxiety Disorder, BIPOC, Bisexual, Black, Book Review, Demon, Disability, Gay, Latine/Latino, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Occult, Own Voices, Recommended, Trans, Young Adult

The Mine by Arnab Ray

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Westland (Indian publisher now owned by Amazon)

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

Audience: Adult/Mature

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

Takes Place in: Thar Desert, Rajasthan, India

Blurb

The greatest evil lies deep inside.

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

Her name is Lilith, what did you guys expect?

This definitely feels like a stranger danger situation.

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

My Sweet Audrina by V.C. Andrews

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Genre: Gothic Horror, Romance, Thriller

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Intellectual Disability, Possible Autism, Physical Disability (bilateral above the knee amputee), Chronic Illness (Osteogenesis imperfecta/brittle bone disease), PTSD

Takes Place in: Southern USA

Blurb

Holy fuck, this book.

This book is definitely the winner of the OMGWTFBBQ award

I just assume Satan is ripped

What Audrina looks like, presumable. Unrelated, but I wish I had that Spoopy shirt in real life.

Tags: Adult, Amputee, Autism, Book Review, Brittle Bone Disease, Chronic Illness, Disability, Gothic, Intellectual Disability, Own Voices, Physical Disability, PTSD, Recommended, Romance, Thriller

The Loney by Andrew Michael Hurley

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Genre: Gothic, Folk Horror, Psychological Horror, Mystery

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Disability (Speech Disorder – muteness, Cognitive/Learning Disability, PTSD)

Takes Place in: Lancashire, UK

Blurb

I mean, I guess if you’re scared of flowers and baby animals Spring might be scary….

Hanny has to put up with so much crap from his neurotypical family

Tags: Book Review, Cognitive/Learning Disability, Disability, Folk Horror, Gothic, Mystery, Psychological Horror, PTSD, Recommended, Speech Disorder

Ten by Gretchen McNeil

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Harper Collins

Genre: Mystery, Psychological Horror, Killer/Slasher

Audience: Y/A

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

Takes Place in: Seattle, USA

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

The Jumbies by Tracey Baptiste

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Algonquin Young Readers

Genre: Monster, Myths and Folklore, Supernatural

Audience: Children

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

Takes Place in: Trinidad and Tobago

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

Shutter by Courtney Alameda

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Square Fish Books

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

Audience: Y/A

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

Takes Place in: type here

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

Blurb

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

Great teamwork there.

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

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

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

Girl, Stolen by April Henry

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Genre: Thriller

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Disability (Vision Impairment, Cognitive, Learning Disability)

Takes Place in: Oregon, USA

Blurb

Sixteen-year-old Cheyenne Wilder is sleeping in the back of the car while her step mom fills a prescription for antibiotics. Before Cheyenne realizes what’s happening, the car is being stolen.

How will Cheyenne survive this nightmare?

He’s salty because people keep accusing him of “faking” his blindness just because he can sort of see things six inches from his face with one of his eyes.

Speaking of blind ninjas, did you know Daredevil and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles share an origin story? It has nothing to do with Girl, Stolen, it’s just cool.

Other pet peeves of the visually impaired include the little stickers on fruit and people who ask them to guess who they are by their voice. Seriously, don’t do that.

Tags: Book Review, Cognitive/Learning Disability, Disability, Recommended, Thriller, Vision Impairment, Young Adult

Guardian of the Dead by Karen Healey

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Little Brown Books for Young Readers

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Monster, Myth and Folklore

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Māori characters, Black character, Chinese New Zealander character, asexual character, mentally ill character

Takes Place in: New Zealand

Blurb

There’s nothing wrong with being conventionally attractive, but PLEASE don’t act like the average woman looks like a super model, or imply that being confident in your appearance is a bad thing.

Iris may not have any martial arts training like Ellie, but she will totally put an eye out with that high heel if she has to.

I imagined Ellie punching Edward from Twilight while drawing this, and it was so satisfying.

The Drowning Girl by Caitlín R. Kiernan

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Penguin

Genre: Monster, Werewolf, Romance, Ghosts/Haunting, Psychological Horror, Mystery

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Lesbian characters, trans character, mentally ill character

Takes Place in: Northeastern USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Mentions of Transphobia, Suicide, Emotional Abuse

Please note, I found out recently that Caitlín R. Kiernan has expressed racist views on Twitter, detailed here. – 5/10/24

So did I like it? Well……. Sort of?

Ugh, I should’ve just watched Sharknado again.

WTF is going on? Did I take expired cold medicine again?

Tags: Adult, Book Review, Disability, Ghosts/Haunting, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Mental Illness, Monster, Mystery, Own Voices, Psychological Horror, Recommended, Romance, Trans, Werebeast

Next Entries »

Navigation

Diverse Book List

Review Policies and Rating Guide

Guide to Content Warnings

About This Blog

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Search by Tags

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