Diversity in Horror Fiction

These Bodies Ain’t Broken Edited by Madeline Dyer

These Bodies Ain’t Broken Edited by Madeline Dyer

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Page Street Publishing

Genre: Body Horror, Demon, Historic Horror, Monster, Myths and Folklore, Romance, Vampire

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Authors and characters with disabilities including ADHD, anxiety, agoraphobia, Autism, celiac disease, chronic pain, Crohn’s disease, diabetes, Down syndrome, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Fibromyalgia, mast cell activation syndrome (MCAS), neurofibromatosis, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), PTSD, and substance use disorder. Non-binary main character and author, agender main character, biracial Haitian side character, bisexual main character.

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Ableism, Amputation,  Animal Death, Body Shaming, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Classism, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gore, Homophobia, Illness, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Oppression, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse, Self-Harm, Sexism, Slurs,  Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Victim Blaming, Violence

Blurb

A monstrous transformation within your own body.
A sacrificial imprisonment.
A fight to the death against an ancient evil.

These stories showcase disabled characters winning against all odds.

Outsmarting deadly video games, hunting the predatory monster in the woods, rooting out evil within their community, finding love and revenge with their newly turned vampire friend—this anthology upends expectations of the roles disabled people can play in horror. With visibly and invisibly disabled characters whose illnesses include Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Crohn’s disease, diabetes, PTSD, and more, each entry also includes a short essay from the author about the conditions portrayed in their stories to further contextualize their characters’ perspectives. From breaking ancient curses to defying death itself, these 13 horror stories cast disabled characters as heroes we can all root for.

Contributors include bestselling and award-winning as well as emerging authors: Dana Mele, Lillie Lainoff, Soumi Roy, Anandi, Fin Leary, S.E. Anderson, K. Ancrum, Pintip Dunn, Lily Meade, Mo Netz, P.H. Low, and Carly Nugent.

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

Horror isn’t exactly known for having good disability rep, so it was great having an anthology written by authors with disabilities because there was so much variety in representation. There was everything from Crohn’s disease to Ehlers-Danlos syndrome to PTSD. In some stories, a character’s disability played a huge role (Baby Teeth, Within the Walls, The Worst of It), and it’s only mentioned in passing in others (When the Night Calls, Kissed by Death). At the end of each story, the author would write about how they chose to represent disability in their work, and some even shared their experiences with their own disabilities and how they related to their stories.

I loved that both invisible and visible disabilities were featured. I have invisible disabilities myself (ADHD and mental illness), but for a long time I didn’t consider myself disabled because, like many people, I thought the only disabilities that existed were visible. This caused me a great deal of stress because I was always trying to compare myself to neurotypical people. It never occurred to me to ask for accommodations because I thought I should be able to “power through” any challenges on willpower alone. Engaging with the disability community online helped me be more accepting of my own disability. I learned that I wasn’t “broken,” the difficulties I had were not moral failings, and having a disability is not a “bad” thing. I discovered that the things I struggled with due to ADHD and mental illness were not my fault, it was just a difference in brain chemistry that I was born with. Accepting my disability meant I also accepted help and learned to function with my disability instead of always fighting against it. It was empowering. So, reading stories about ADHD and mental health in a disability anthology felt incredibly validating. Not only that, but these characters with disabilities got to be the heroes. It was awesome reading about a woman with ADHD get revenge on the men who wronged her and a non-binary person whose mental illness was not the source of horror in the story. Another great thing about These Bodies Ain’t Broken is the amount of intersectionality. There were queer characters, non-binary characters, Asian characters, etc.

This review would be unreasonably long if I examined every story in the collection I will focus on a few that stood out to me. When the Night Calls by Soumi Roy takes place in 19th century Bengal. Charu is a newly married 16-year-old girl whose best friend Malati, an educated city girl who is fiercely independent, has disappeared without a trace. Malati’s cold husband claims that his wife was lured into the forest and taken by the Nishi Daak for being so willful. He says it was Malati’s own fault she was taken, but Charu isn’t sure what to believe. Malati always told her the Nishi Daak was just a story told to keep women in line. Although Charu does her best to be an obedient wife and daughter-in-law her curiosity gets the better of her and she stumbles across the terrible secret kept by the village men; the reason women and girls of the village keep disappearing. This bloody story of feminine vengeance and Bengali monsters was an extremely satisfying read. I also enjoyed it as Charu and I share a disability, ADHD (although it’s not named it the story the author reveals that Charu is neurodiverse). I related to the frustration of making mistakes, even when you’re trying your hardest, and how painful it is when people around you attribute this to laziness or “just not paying attention.”

The first line of Thy Creature by Lillie Lainoff draws you in immediately. “The hardest thing about coming back to life is remembering how to breathe.” Told in the second person, this Frankenstein inspired tale tells the story of a girl brought back to life by her college boyfriend, Cal, after she dies in a hiking accident. Despite being a mediocre boyfriend at best, the protagonist seems perfectly happy to settle and set her expectations low when it comes to Cal, especially since she now owes him for bringing her back to life. The story reminded me so much of all the straight women who settle for awful men because they don’t think they deserve better. Hey, there’s a reason single women are happier.

Dating while disabled comes with its own set of challenges especially when dating someone without a disability. The non-disabled person may only date someone with a disability out of pity or because they fetishize their disability. This also applies to anyone who isn’t skinny, white, cisgender, etc. (aka has their own category on Pornhub), so heaven help you if you belong to more than one of those marginalized groups (intersectionality). Then there’s all the misconceptions, like the assumption that people with disabilities aren’t sexual (obviously Ace people with disabilities exist, but that’s a sexual orientation, and has nothing to do with their disabilities). As Lainoff’s protagonist slowly builds confidence, she also learns she doesn’t have to settle just because she has a disability and that maybe her boyfriend isn’t all that great.

In Ravenous by Carly Nugent, the protagonist, Linden, is struggling with depression and passive suicidal ideation. She refuses to monitor her blood sugar or manage her diabetes which has already landed her in the ER once. Linden has decided she’s just going not to accept her diabetes, forcing her mother to help her manage most of it, and she’d rather die from it than live with it. I like that Nugent wrote about the difficulty someone with a chronic illness goes through when they’re first diagnosed. Linden is still in the denial and depression stages of her grief after learning her life will never be the same. But over the course of the story, she learns to accept that she has diabetes, and it doesn’t mean her life is over. I love that the author didn’t portray disability in a negative light while also acknowledging that yes, finding out that you’re going to have to manage a chronic illness for the rest of your life can really suck.

Another story I really liked was House of Hades by Dana Mele. House of Hades is a virtual world filled with gamers and virtual replicas of the dead. The tech was originally funded by some billionaire who wanted to live forever. But when he learned that you can’t really become an immortal machine, he sold the program, which was used it to create House of Hades. They call the digital clones “ghosts,” which include historical figures like Shakespeare and Marie Antoinette. The game is so realistic that if you die in the game you can die in real life (so Matrix rules) unless you “wake up,” which is why the game requires a buddy system. The voice command “wake up” triggers the exit protocol. Unfortunately, you need someone else to trigger it for you, you can’t exit yourself, which seems like a serious design flaw.

Ode and Era are two gamers who like to hang out in House of Hades. Ode is currently grounded, and isn’t supposed to be playing the game because they’ve been abusing pills and recently had an overdose on a drug called V (aka Viper, the story’s fictional drug). Their parents recently got divorced and they’re struggling with it. When they go back to Hades with Era, Ode is shocked to discover they’ve been separated. Now Ode is all alone in a dark little town, seemingly empty, but something is watching them. They are forced to solve puzzles and play the town’s strange game to try and find Era and a way out.

I thought the setting was very creative, and I like that the protagonist was non-binary like me. In the story notes Mele explains how she didn’t like the way horror villains were always portrayed as mentally ill. As someone with my own mental illness and who has spent time inpatient at mental health hospitals (or as I like to call it “a grippy sock vacation”) it hurts when I hear people talk about the “dangerous crazies” in the psych ward or explain away a person’s terrible behavior (racism, violence, abuse, etc.) by saying “they’re crazy.” They’re not mentally ill, they’re just awful people! And mentally ill people are more likely to be the victims of violent crime than commit it. Only a very small percent of violent crimes (around 5%) are committed by people with mental illness. Yet the myth of the “crazed killer” prevails in horror. So, I appreciate that Mele made her protagonist mentally ill.

One of my favorite stories in the collection was The Weepers and Washer-Women of Lake Lomond by Madeline Dyer (the editor of the anthology), though I think the story would have worked better if it was a full-length novel. It was like I was being served this amazing meal, but I had to shove it in my mouth in five minutes when I really wanted to savor it. It didn’t necessarily feel rushed, I just think I would have enjoyed it more if I had had more time with the characters, the setting, and the lore because it was all so great! In the story the protagonist, Bianca, who has multiple disabilities including Ehlers-Danlos, POTS, and MCAS, is pretending to be her twin sister, Remi, so she can take part in the World Kickboxing Championship on the island of Loch Lomond. Bianca is convinced the island had something to do with the death or their cousin, Mari, who competed on Loch Lomond a ten years prior. Remi’s boyfriend, Blake, does not think this is a good idea, but Bianca, who hates being treated like she’s “broken,” is determined. She’s thought of everything; Remi faked an injury months ago to explain away Bianca’s crutches. The competition takes place in pitch dark, the organizers claiming that it’s to make it more fair for blind and low-vision competitors (a blind girl won the championship last time), so no one will see Bianca using a mobility aid. And she only needs to stay in the competition long enough to find out what happened to Mari, so Bianca doesn’t necessarily have to win her first match.

I can understand Blake’s hesitation to help Bianca go through with her plan, because at first, I thought Bianca was foolish to try and pretend to be her sister. While both sister’s have Ehlers-Danlos, Remi only got stretchy joints, while Bianca got the whole shebang that can come with the condition. How would Bianca be able to compete in such a physically demanding competition? And immediately after arriving on the island,things start to go wrong. There’s no food that Bianca can safely eat, and the training masters confiscate her medication and medical drinks claiming it will give her an “unfair advantage.” Dizzy with fatigue and illness she tries to bow out of the championship, but is forced to compete. And when she enters the dark arena, the training master takes Bianca’s crutches. Worst of all, her opponent doesn’t seem quite human. I thought she was guaranteed to be monster chow. But then her disability ends up being the reason she survives. *spoiler* Because Bianca’s crutches (presumably made of durable steel, which contains iron) can hurt her adversaries. As Bianca says at the end of the story “I’m Bianca. And that’s how I’m alive. Because I’m disabled. Because I need mobility aids. Because I fought with my crutch.” *spoiler ends* I absolutely love this twist. Disabilities are often to assumed to be a “weakness” but it ends up being Bianca’s strength.

Three of the stories used the second person point of view, which is when the story addresses the reader directly using the pronoun “you” when describing the protagonists’ actions (i.e. you shook in fear when faced with the monster from your dreams). This is a tricky to do, and doesn’t always work well, as you’re basically telling the reader what they’re doing and feeling. But it’s also more intimate and the reader gets a greater feel for what the protagonist is going through. I liked that some of the authors used this for their storytelling. It gives  you more of a feel for what it’s was like living with a specific disability.

While not all the stories in the collection were as strong as others, I think this is a solid anthology. It was great to both see myself in characters and learn about different types of disabilities, as there’s so much variation. I also love that the stories defied stereotypes like disabled people not being worthy of love, or mentally ill people being dangerous. The only thing that surprised me was that there were no stories by authors who were blind, low vision, or Deaf/deaf, and there was only one story with a character who used a wheelchair. Perhaps Madeline Dyer wanted to focus on disabilities which don’t get as much media attention or she simply wasn’t able to get authors to represent those disabilities. This isn’t really a criticism, just something that surprised me. Perhaps I just need to reexamine my own biases when it comes to disabilities.

Tags: ADHD, Agender, agoraphobia, Anthology, Anxiety Disorder, Autism, BIPOC, Biracial, Bisexual, Body Horror, Book Review, Cane user, Celiac Disease, Chronic Pain, Crohn’s disease, Demon, diabetes, Disability, Down syndrome, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, Haitian, Historic Horror, LGBTQIA, MCAS, Monster, Myths and Folklore, Neurodiversity, neurofibromatosis, Non-binary, Own Voices, POTS, PTSD, Romance, Substance Use Disorder, Trans, vampire, Wheelchair user, Young Adult
On Sunday She Picked Flowers by Yah Yah Scholfield

On Sunday She Picked Flowers by Yah Yah Scholfield

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Saga Press

Genre: Gothic, Historic Horror, Werebeast

Audience: Adult

Diversity: Black characters and author, Queer main character and author

Takes Place in: Georgia, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Body Shaming, Cannibalism, Child Death, Childbirth, Death, Gore, Homophobia, Incest, Miscarriage, Physical Abuse, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Vomit

Blurb

When Judith Rice fled her childhood home, she thought she’d severed her abusive mother’s hold on her. She didn’t have a plan or destination, just a desperate need to escape. Drawn to the forests of southern Georgia, Jude finds shelter in a house as haunted by its violent history as she is by her own.

Jude embraces the eccentricities of the dilapidated house, soothing its ghosts and haints, honoring its blood-soaked land. And over the next thirteen years, Jude blossoms from her bitter beginnings into a wisewoman, a healer.

But her hard-won peace is threatened when an enigmatic woman shows up on her doorstep. The woman is beautiful but unsettling, captivating but uncanny. Ensnared by her desire for this stranger, Jude is caught off guard by brutal urges suddenly simmering beneath her skin. As the woman stirs up memories of her escape years ago, Jude must confront the calls of violence rooted in her bloodline.

Haunting and thought-provoking, On Sunday She Picked Flowers explores retribution, family trauma, and the power of building oneself back up after breaking down.

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

Jude (short for Judith) does what I’m sure many women have dreamed of doing. After killing her abuser she runs away from her terrible life to live alone in a haunted house in the forest where she becomes a wisewoman/healer and takes a mysterious lover who may or not be a beast. On Sunday She Picked Flowers reads like a Southern Gothic fairytale, if “Once Upon a Time” were 1965 and “a land far away” was Georgia. This is not a pretty story with a pure, fair maiden who is rescued from her miserable life. Instead, our heroine, 41-year-old Jude, is described as “too fat, too Black, too tall, and too damn ugly” (at least by her teachers and classmates) and is forced to save herself from her wicked mother and the curse of transgenerational trauma.

Jude has lived with her abusive, religious mother for her entire life. She doesn’t understand why her mother, whom she calls Ma’am, hates her so much, only that she does. Ma’am will beat her daughter for the smallest offense then turn around and act like nothing happened (this is known as the cycle of abuse). Her two aunts, Phyillis and Vivian, tell Jude it’s her own fault she’s abused for being “difficult” and she should be grateful for all her mother has sacrificed for her.

Jude keeps a packed bag and a tin of money hidden under her bed so she can leave one day. She’s tried to run away before but people in the town always bring her back. Eventually Jude realizes the only way she’ll ever be free is to kill her mother. One night Jude is making dinner when Ma’am announces she found the packed bag under Jude’s bed. Ma’am tried to guilt trip Jude before telling her daughter that she’ll never let her leave. Something snaps in Jude and she starts hitting her mother and the two end up on the floor. Ma’am tries to strangle her but Jude grabs a meat cleaver on the floor and buries it in her mother’s face. She attempts to call her aunt Phyllis for help and to confess what she’s done, the only one of Ma’am’s two sisters who might show her compassion, but is rebuffed. Realizing she can’t stay in that house Jude runs away and ends up in an abandoned haunted house in the middle of the woods that she names Candle.

In many ways transgenerational trauma can feel like a family curse that passes from parent to child. The controversial field of epigenetics claims that trauma can change your DNA to the point that it’s passed down genetically to your offspring, with descendants of Holocaust survivors, Residential School Survivors, and enslaved Africans continuing to experience the symptoms of trauma (depression, anxiety, substance misuse, etc.). Dr. Joy DeGruy, who holds advanced degrees in both clinical psychology and social work research, came up with the term “post traumatic slave syndrome” to describe the transgenerational trauma experienced by African Americans as a result of the Atlantic slave trade, in addition continued discrimination in the present day. While the American Psychological Association (APA) awarded Dr. DeGruy a Presidential Citation in 2023 her theory is not without its critics. Dr. Ibram X. Kendi, a historian and anti-racism scholar, argues that the idea of post traumatic slave syndrome is itself racist as it implies that Black people are inherently dysfunctional as a group.

Some studies have shown that when someone experiences abuse as a child and is unable to learn healthy coping methods, they are more likely to abuse their own children, with one study stating that abuse and neglect victims are three times more likely to be abusive themselves. Rates of domestic violence are higher in the Black community, with Black women at the greatest risk, most likely due to a combination of racism and poverty. Black parents also have a complex relationship with the corporal punishment of children, especially in the South. When my siblings and I were little my Black grandmother thought it was very amusing that my white mother didn’t believe in spanking, and joked about how the beatings she gave my aunt and father would get her sent to prison now.

But she did what she did to protect them from something worse. She knew white people would use any excuse to hurt, arrest, or even kill a Black person, even if they were a child so Black children had to always be obedient if they wanted to survive. They did not have the same opportunities as white children to make youthful mistakes. Child advocate Dr. Stacey Patton, who is herself a child abuse survivor, explained in an interview with Ebony that “People think that hitting a child is a form of teaching. We think it will protect them.” In another interview with the Touré Show podcast  Dr. Patton stated “There was this idea that ‘Well if I beat you, you’re gonna be alive at the end of the day, whereas if the Klan gets their hands on you, you’re dead’… And so we fast forward to this century, and you have Black people saying, ‘If I don’t beat my child, then the police will kill them.’” Of course, the belief that all Black parents are inherently abusive or “bad” parents is rooted in racism.

Ma’am was horribly abused by her own father, and ended up taking her pain out on her daughter. Jude’s beatings were treated as acceptable “punishments” by her aunts who had been beaten similarly as children. But this does NOT mean that an abused child is guaranteed to be abusive themselves. Jude is able to break free and learns to love herself and that she’s more than what was done to her, just as many Black parents today are moving away from “tough love” and embracing gentle parenting. In fact, corporal punishment is quickly falling out of favor in the Black community.

Scholfield’s prose is gorgeous, one my favorite lines in the book is, “Jude entered the verdant maw of the woods, past its bark teeth and down its mossy throat, down into its humid green bowels.” What a great description, both foreboding and beautiful. It’s also a perfect example of the book’s reoccurring theme of transformation as Jude leaves civilization behind and enters the enchanted world of the forest (appropriate, as the forest has long been a metaphor for transformation in both fairytales and folklore). Ma’am prefers nature small and tamable because she had too much of it as a child working on a plantation (one of the reasons my grandmother left Tennessee and moved to Chicago) and four generations of Ma’am’s family slaved away on a plantation, even after emancipation. But Jude loves the beauty of nature and its wildness, and is willing to work the land if she’s working it for herself and not another. For in the forest, she is truly free.

Judediscovers safety and strength in her solitude, that is until she meets Nemoira, a strange and beautiful woman who enters Candle and immediately makes herself at home. Jude falls hard and fast for the mysterious Nemoira, who may or may not be the beast that’s been leaving meat on her doorstep. Their relationship reminds me of classic stories like Bluebeard, Tsuru no Ongaeshi (Crane’s Return of a Favor), and Beauty and the Beast. I loved that this book was about an older woman rather than a 20-something. Of course there’s nothing wrong with younger heroines, but it can get repetitive always reading about women half my age in books supposedly aimed at adults. It’s easy to find older men in media, but creators seem afraid to make their women older than 30 or so. Jude, on the other hand, starts the story out at 41 and is in her sixties by the end of it. She’s also able to change and develop as a character despite being older. It’s wonderful to watch Jude go from terrified and helpless to fearless and self-sufficient over the course of the story. Best of all, she gets to have a romance and hot sex! Media makes it seem like women stop having sex the minute they hit 40, but while age can change how you have sex, older adults are still sexually active. So it’s nice to see that represented here and not treated as a punchline or something gross.

This was an achingly beautiful and haunting story. Despite its supernatural and fairy tale-like elements, the book’s depictions of abuse are still realistic. I appreciated how Scholfield humanizes Ma’am without excusing her abuse of Judith. Ma’am’s treatment of her daughter is inexcusable, even though Judith is not a “perfect victim” (a harmful myth that often prevents abuse survivors from getting help). Judith’s relationship with Nemoira is similarly complex, with Judith trying to love a monster without herself becoming monstrous and learning to stand up for herself. Scholfield’s descriptions are lush: you can practically see, smell, and hear the forest. On Sunday She Picked Flowers feels like in takes place in a liminal space between fantasy and cold reality, the “real” world, and the world of the forest. While reading it, I always felt like I was just on the edge of a dream.

Tags: Adult, African American, BIPOC, Black, Gothic, Historic Horror, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Own Voices, Werebeast
The Villa, Once Beloved by Victor Manibo

The Villa, Once Beloved by Victor Manibo

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Erewhon Books

Genre: Gothic, Myth and Folklore

Audience: Adult

Diversity: Filipino author and characters, Gay author and character, non-binary side character

Takes Place in: The Philippines

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Child Abuse, Classism, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Homophobia, Illness, Incest, Miscarriage, Mental Illness, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Slurs, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Victim Blaming, Violence, Vomit

Blurb

Some legacies are best left buried…

Villa Sepulveda is a storied relic of the Philippines’ past: a Spanish colonial manor, its moldering stonework filled with centuries-old heirlooms, nestled in a remote coconut plantation. When their patriarch dies mysteriously, his far-flung family returns to their ancestral home. Filipino-American student Adrian Sepulveda invites his college girlfriend, Sophie, a transracial adoptee who knows little about her own Filipino heritage, to the funeral of a man who was entwined with the history of the country itself.

Sophie soon learns that there is more to the Sepulvedas than a grand tradition of political and entrepreneurial success. Adrian’s relatives clash viciously amid grief, confusion, and questions about the family curse that their matriarch refuses to answer. When a landslide traps them all in the villa, secrets begin to emerge, revealing sins both intimately personal and unthinkably public.

Sifting through fact, folklore, and fiction, Sophie finds herself at the center of a reckoning. Did a mythical demon really kill Adrian’s grandfather? How complicit are the Sepulvedas in the country’s oppressive history? As a series of ill omens befall the villa, Sophie must decide whom to trust—and whom to flee—before the family’s true legacy comes to take its revenge . . .

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

The Villa, Once Beloved is a modern gothic horror story set in the Philippines about the terrible crimes people will commit to obtain and maintain wealth and power. The story is tied to its setting, with the history of colonialism and political corruption in the Philippines playing an integral role in the plot. 

Don Raul Sepulveda, the wealthy patriarch of the Sepulveda family, has decided his deceased family members need to be moved to a grand mausoleum. He attempts to build the mausoleum himself, despite his advanced age, after firing all the builders because they kept telling him his vision was impossible. Raul believes his family’s grand tomb must be finished quickly because death is coming for him, and is proven correct when he dies that night after seeing a terrifying specter in the jungle: a pale, faceless woman. His wife, Doña Olympia finds Raul’s crushed body in his bed the next day, his hands covered in dirt. 

A few days later, a college student named Sophie is flying to the Philippines in a luxurious private jet with her boyfriend, Adrian, to visit his family. It’s her first time on an airplane and her first time out of the country. They’re flying to the Philippines for the funeral of Don Raul, Adrian’s grandfather. Sophie may be Filipino but she was raised by a white, working-class couple on a farm in Nebraska, making her feel like an outsider. While Sophie is worried that she may be intruding on the Sepulveda’s family’s private grief, she’s happy she can support Adrian in his time of need.  

Sophie loves her boyfriend because of his “boundless and innocent optimism” and his ability to talk about his feelings and have tough conversations.  He lavishes her with praise, unlike her adoptive parents, who don’t give her a lot of positive affirmation. Adrian cares deeply about his family and country, and has been educating Sophie about the Philippines: its history, culture, and what it means to be Filipino. Maybe I just distrust straight cis men, but Adrian seemed too good to be true. There weren’t exactly any red flags, but something about him felt off. Yellow flags, if you will. He never brings Sophie to his family’s home, despite it being only an hour from campus, and I got the sense a lot of his activism was performative. And the way he educates Sophie about the Philippines felt  condescending. Sophie loves it;she describes it as “very My Fair Lady. Sophie was clay ready to be molded, a Filipina Eliza Doolittle who somehow needed to be more Filipina, and Adrian was happy to be Henry Higgins.” But if  you remember the film  (or the George Bernard Shaw play it was based on) Henry Higgins was a misogynistic jerk to Eliza Doolittle.

Adrian is planning to make a documentary about his family and their ties to the Marcos, a major political family in the Philippines. The Sepulvedas are related to the Marcos through Imelda Romualdez Marcos, the former First Lady of the Philippines. She was the wife of former president Ferdinand Emmanuel Edralin Marcos, Sr., and mother of the current president of the Philippines, Ferdinand “Bongbong” Romualdez Marcos, Jr. Ferdinand was a kleptocrat who ruled as a dictator from 1965-1986, committed numerous human rights violations, and kept the Philippines under martial law in the ‘70s. Adrian hates the Marcos with a passion, even going so far as to organize a protest at Standford University when Bongbong visited the Bay Area. When his grandmother Olympia announces that the current president and his mother will likely be guests at Raul’s funeral, Adrian is horrified.

Adrian’s family has been in the Philippines since before the diocese, and own a large coconut plantation. Their villa was built nearly 200 years ago by Señor Bartolome Sepúlveda as a summer retreat for his reclusive wife Dorotea to hide her from the attention of other men (or to hide her from society after she went mad from homesickness). They were Spanish aristocrats who had fallen on hard times and moved to the Spanish East Indies attracting by Manila’s growing wealth after the Spanish crown took control and turned it into a major trading port. Their son Oscar saved the Sepulveda fortune, by starting the coconut plantation. He married Mercedes, an indio (which his father didn’t approve of). They had seven sons and one daughter, Soledad, who was married off to a member of the Marcos family.

Claudio, the oldest son of Oscar and Mercedes, is Divina and Raul’s father. He was born in 1929, after the Philippines had been sold to America. Claudio, as a US national, served in the US army and fought in WWII during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines under General Douglas MacArthur. Claudio became a general himself, and a war hero, and chose to marry Elisea Jimenez because she was an heiress. He cheated on her multiple times, and may or may not have fathered children with other women. Elisea was the power behind the throne. She prevented Claudio’s siblings from ousting him from the company and it was her idea to expand into the international coconut trade in the sixties, selling lumber, coconut wine, and coconut oil. The coconut oil was especially popular with their US partners, and is still used in major cosmetics brands. 

But then the Sepulveda family’s fortunes turned. In 1985 there was a worker’s strike at the Sepulveda’s plantation due to Marcos’ Coco Levy Fund Scam. A few days after that typhoon Saling (aka Typhoon Dot) struck, resulting in landslides that destroyed the countryside. Then malaria struck the town. There were crocodile attacks after that, then swarms of beetles that destroyed crops. Finally, a warehouse collapsed, killing several workers including Raul’s brother-in-law. When Raul’s father died suddenly of an aneurysm, Raul decided to flee to the states with his wife and young sons (Kai was not yet born), hoping to escape the curse. He left behind his newly widowed sister Divina to care for the villa and the coconut plantation.

Joining Adrian and Sophie at the villa are his parents Eric and Margot, his uncle Javier, his grandmother Olympia, his great aunt Divina, and some servants including the caretaker Remidios. Adrian’s auncle (a gender-neutral term for a parent’s sibling) Kai joins them later, barely making it to the villa because of the typhoon that strikes the Philippines. If you’re as bad at remembering names as I am, I would definitely recommend keeping a list of the characters because there are A LOT. Keeping track of the living family was one thing, but throw in all the ancestors on top of that and I started having trouble keeping track of who was who.

The book is told in third person limited tense, with Sophie acting as the main protagonist and audience surrogate who, while Filipino, is also an outsider and new to the culture and history. We also learn more about the family’s history through Adrian’s interviews with Divina for his documentary. Javier and Remidios serve as the deuteragonist and tritagonist of the story, giving the reader more of an insider’s view of the Sepulveda family. Javier and Remidios are both more cynical than the naïve Sophie who is just happy to be included. Javier is disappointed to discover his old home is not as grand as he remembered, instead finding it cramped and ill preserved whereas Sophie is in awe of the villa, highlighting their very different upbringings. Remidios has a less than charitable opinion of Sophie in the beginning (though she does warm up to her) and it’s interesting to see the protagonist, who is so often praised by Adrian, looked down upon by another character. Sophie is also the character who is most disturbed by what’s happening and becomes increasingly distraught as the story continues, growing paranoid and isolating herself from the rest of the family.

This is a slow burn horror book, which admittedly, I’m not usually a fan of. Things don’t start to getexciting until halfway through, when one of the family’s biggest secrets is finally revealed. The first half of the story is mostly getting to know the characters and their history, and I feel like it could have used more horror and foreboding. But of course, that’s just my personal preference.People with more patience than me will have a completely different reading experience. I did really enjoy learning about Filippino history and I liked how Manibo used real events and tied them into the story, like Typhoon Dot and the Coco Levy Fund Scam. I also liked how it isn’t revealed whether supernatural factors are at play until the very end. The reader is left to wonder if Raul was really killed by a batibat (a sort of Filipino sleep paralysis demon that can cause sudden, unexplained deaths) during a bangungot as Remidios claims, or whether the monster he saw was merely an apparition brought on by his madness. And is the string of disasters surrounding the family the work of a curse or merely bad luck?

Despite the villa’s size there’s a feeling of claustrophobia due to its isolation. The typhoon knocks out the internet, phone services, and roads making it impossible to reach anyone outside the villa. Because the villa is in a secluded area, it’s unlikely anyone will come to the aid of those trapped there by the landslides, despite Olympia’s insistence that everyone will come for her late husband’s funeral. Manibo is excellent at creating a gothic atmosphere, and, despite so many characters, each has their own unique perspective and personality, making them stand out. A must read if you’re a fan of the gothic.

 

Tags: Adult, Asian, BIPOC, Book Review, Filipino, Gay, Gothic, LGBTQIA, Myths and Folklore, Non-binary, Own Voices

Antenora by Dori Lumpkin

Antenora by Dori Lumpkin. Highly Recommended. Read if you like relgious horror.

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Creature Publishing

Genre: Myth and Folklore, Psychological Horror

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Non-binary author, queer women main characters

Takes Place in: Alabama

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Death, Gore, Illness, Suicide, Relgious Abuse, Slut-Shaming Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

Antenora: Dante’s ninth circle of hell reserved for traitors to their country. What really happened to Nora Willet? The religious community of Bethel, Alabama can’t agree on the truth. They always said she was trouble. Later, they said she was possessed. Maybe she lost her mind, killing three people and injuring many others. In a part confessional, part plea for Nora to come home, Nora’s childhood friend Abigail Barnes tells of another girl’s gruesome eighteenth birthday, of the time Nora may have fully revived a snake, of the intimacy of their private encounters at the lakeside, of Nora’s deliverance ceremony. Where, Abigail wonders, is Nora now? In this tender and horrific debut, religious dogmatism sniffs out two girls whose innocent affections threaten an entire town and way of life, making one a traitor to a homeland in which only Abigail and Nora know the bittersweet truth. A homeland in which Nora can only say, “There’s a snake speaking to me, Abby-girl.”

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

Nora and Abigail are best friends who live in the small town of Bethel, an insular religious community in Alabama surrounded by mountains. The girls have been inseparable since they were seven, despite their differences. Abigial is a “good girl,” quiet, Godly, and submissive like the town expects women to behave. But Nora is the opposite–opinionated, strong, and brave–which angers the people of Bethel and the town leader, pastor David. But what makes the rest of the town hate her is what draws Abigail to Nora, and the reason she’s secretly in love with her.

The two are attending the 18th birthday party for their classmate Leah, who is displeased Nora is there. Turning 18 is a big deal for girls in Bethel because it’s the age they’re allowed to get married, and most girls find a husband shortly after high school graduation. Nora knows Leah doesn’t like her, so when Leah is seated at the head of the table being presented with her birthday cake, Nora grabs a fistful of Leah’s hair and slams her face-first into the table, ripping the hair from her scalp and breaking Leah’s nose. While Nora feigns remorse, Abigail can tell it’s just for show.

Later, Nora releases a baby copperhead in church. While copperhead venom isn’t particularly potent and rarely fatal, somehow both the bite victims die quickly and painfully. When the baby copperhead returns to a grinning Nora who kisses it on its snout., that’s the moment the church decides she’s possessed by a demon.

The whole story is steeped in symbolism. The title of the book is taken from Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy, a famous Italian poem written in the early 1300s. The Divine Comedy is a first-person narrative told from Dante’s perspective about his journey through the realms of Hell (Inferno), Purgatory (Purgatorio), and Heaven (Paradiso). The first, and perhaps most famous part of the poem, is dedicated to the nine circles of Hell where Dante is guided by the ancient Roman poet Virgil. Located in the Ninth Circle is the Cocytus, a large frozen lake filled with sinners guilty of treachery. The lake is divided into four concentric rings, or rounds, with the further rings reserved for the most serious betrayals. The second ring, Antenora, is dedicated to traitors of their country. This ring gets its name from Antenor, a Trojan elder who betrayed the Troy to the Greeks. With the exception of Abigail, the citizens of Bethel see Nora as a traitor to their town. But Nora sees the town as her prison, like the frozen Cocytus.

An balck and white engraving by Gustave Dore. Dante is holding the head of Bocca degli Abati, a traitorous Guelph of Florence who is frozen in the Cocytus. The Roman poet Virgil watches on next to Dante. They are standing on a frozen lake in which various people are frozen up to their necks. Their is a pile of frozen bodies next to the two men.

Antenora, located in the ninth circle of hell, is the second section of the lake of Cocytus where traitors to their homeland are punished. Artwork by Gustave Doré (1832-1883), Illustration 32 of the Divine Comedy.

Snake imagery comes up multiple times in Antenora. When Nora gets a bad idea in her head, she’ll tell Abigail “There’s a snake speaking to me, Abby-girl.” One of the few times Nora cries is when she and Abigail find a dead baby copperhead in the woods which then miraculously comes back to life in her hands (implied to be the one Nora releases in the church). And of course, there are the snakes that David’s brother Caleb handles as part of their Sunday church service. Snake handling is a religious rite practiced by some rural Pentecostals which was popularized by George Hensely in early 20th century Appalachia and continues to this day. Hensley believed that snake handling was commanded by God due to the following bible passage: “And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; They shall take up serpents…” (Mark 16:17-18 KJV) Unsurprisingly Hensely died of a snake bite in 1955 at the age of 74 after refusing to seek medical treatment. The most famous snake in the Abrahamic religions is the one from the creation myth that lived in the Garden of Eden. The snake tempts Eve, who later offers the fruit to Adam, to eat fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and is subsequently punished by God who curses it to crawl on its belly.

A black and white photo of two dark-haired white men holding a large snake in the air. Both men are wearing white button down shirts and dark pants. One of the men has only a right arm, the sleeve for his left arm is tucked into his pants. A crowd watches on and plays the cymbals. They are all inside s small building.

Photo taken in 1946 by Russell Lee at the Church of God with Signs Following in Harlan County, Kentucky.

A serpent is also used to represent the dragon in the Book of Revelation who battles the Archangel Michael. The snake in Eden is similar to Nora’s idea that a snake is speaking to her before she does something “sinful.” But, not all snakes in the bible are evil. God turns Moses’ staff into a serpent to prove he’s been chosen to lead his people out of slavery. Later, in his journey though the desert with those he has freed, Moses mounts a bronze serpent on a pole to act a cure against the bite of the “burning serpents” sent by God as punishment. Like Moses’ bronze snake charms has similarities to the Rod of Asclepius, a staff entwined by a snake wielded by Asclepius, the Greek god of healing and medicine. The symbol is still used to this day as a symbol of Medicine, and can be seen on the flag for the World Health Organization. Snakes can also represent rebirth due to their ability to shed their skin, as is seen with Nora’s baby copperhead. This is perhaps best represented by the ouroboros devouring its own tail. Other examples of snakes in word mythology include Níðhöggr, a serpent/dragon in Norse myth who resides in Niflheim and gnaws on the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree and the Vision Serpent, an important figure in early Mayan mythology who connected the spiritual and earthly planes that was also associated with a World Tree.

Ningishzida is a Mesopotamian serpent deity of vegetation and the underworld. Rainbow snake is a creator god in the Aboriginal Australian religion. Similarly, Damballa the sky father and creator of all life in Vodou is often depicted as a white or rainbow serpent. His mate, Ayida-Weddo, is a rainbow snake who represents fertility. Vasuki is the king of the nagas in Hinduism and is often depicted coiled around the neck of Shiva, one of the major Hindu deities and god of destruction and creation. As seen in these examples, snakes can be a destructive force like Níðhöggr, a creator like Damballa, or both, like the god Shiva. Nora is seen as a destructive force by her community, like the serpent in revelations, which leads David to the decision that she must be “delivered” a.k.a exorcised.

A Renaissance painting of Eve from the creation story in the Bible. Behind her lies a deer. Eve is surrounded by foliage including a stray branch covering her vulva. Eve is holding the branch of a fruit tree above her head. In her other hand she holds a piece of fruit with a bite taken from it. Above her the snake is coiled around a branch watching her.

Eve by Lucas Cranach the Elder from the Art Institute of Chicago

While it’s unclear whether Nora is a victim of demons (the snake that speaks to her) or merely a mentally unwell girl with behavioral issues who needs actual help rather than religious abuse, Abigail is inclined to lean towards the latter. Abigial states “Possession is a funny thing, right, because technically, it is a mental health issue that can be diagnosed. Your mind has been damaged far past the Lord’s control, and the demons have been let in. Whether you are or aren’t actually possessed, you at the very least have to believe that you are, and therein lies the problem.” While exorcisms are fun in fiction, in real life they’re usually being used in the place of medical treatment for those struggling with mental health or behavioral issues and can lead to tragic results.

Children seem to be the most common victims of exorcisms gone wrong. (Content Warning: Discussion of child abuse and murders) Police had to use stun guns to subdue Ronald Marquez after he was found strangling his young granddaughter in an attempted exorcism. He was later pronounced dead in the hospital. While the girl survived, other children weren’t so lucky. A similar case occurred at a small Pentecostal church is San Jose California. The grandfather of the girl, Rene Trigueros-Hernandez, attempted an exorcism on her at her mother’s request which resulted in 3-year-old Arely Naomi Proctor dying of asphyxiation. In 2003, an 8-year-old boy in Milwaukee, whose autism was blamed on demonic possession, was killed during an exorcism where he was wrapped tightly in sheets. Almost a decade later, Eder Guzman-Rodriguez beat his 2-year-old daughter to death in an attempted exorcism. Most recently a 6-year-old Florida boy was found dead by authorities after his mother tried to perform an exorcism. (End of content warning) It’s no wonder Nora fears her deliverance.

I’ve always found horror that explores the corruption of fundamentalist Christianity to be especially creepy. Maybe it’s because of the rampant abuse that can be found in extreme religious groups that demand obedience and conformity. There are so many stories online of  Child abuse (“sparing the rod”), sexual abuse (purity culture is rape culture), emotional abuse, etc. from survivors dealing  with lasting trauma. There’s also the fact that something that’s supposed to bring comfort, religion, can be twisted and perverted until it becomes something that hurts rather than heals. Or maybe it’s the horror of witnessing what the extreme Christian right is doing to our country right now.

It’s unclear when the story takes place. It could be a modern story with no mention of technology, or it take place in the early 20th century when snake handling first rose to popularity. The only hint we get is the church air conditioning (with the portable window unit invented in 1931). I like the vague setting, as it makes the story feel timeless while also emphasizing how the town of Bethel is trapped in time, cut off from the outside (secular) world.

In the story, Abigail mentions how girls are expected to “keep sweet.” If you’ve never heard the expression before “Keep sweet, pray, and obey,” was originally coined by Rulon Jeffs, the 5th president of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It’s meant to describe how women in the church are expected to behave. The motto because popularized by the Netflix series of the same name, a four-part docuseries released in 2022 about the survivors of the FLDS church. It’s current leader, Warren S. Jeffs is serving a life sense in Texas for child sexual assault and marrying underage girls. While girls in Bethel aren’t allowed to get married until they turn 18 (the age was 16 until the state got involved) they’re still expected to submit to David’s will and not complain or express negative emotions. It’s incredibly creepy, much more so than the random acts of violence committed throughout the book. Probably because religious abuse is still so prevalent in the US.

Elise Heerde, a counsellor who specializes in religious trauma wrote the following on the blog, Tears of Eden

“For as long as I can remember, obedience was the measure of my worth. To be good, to be faithful, to be worthy of love. These were tied to how well I conformed, how much I suppressed, and how seamlessly I fit within the rigid structures of evangelical Christianity. But that obedience came at a cost. It wasn’t just about following rules; it was about erasing myself.”

Antenora is, at its heart, a tragic love story between two girls who never got to fully explore their feelings for one another because of the repressive religious community they’re trapped in. We see how girls, especially girls who don’t conform, are mistreated by conservative religious communities.

Tags: Book Review, Highly Recommended, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Myths and Folklore, Non-binary, Psychological Horror, Queer, Young Adult

They Bloom at Night by Trang Thanh Tran

They Bloom at NIght by by Trang Thanh Tran. Recommended. Read if you like oceanic horror, found family.

 

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Bloomsbury

Genre: Body Horror, Eco Horror

Audience: Print, audio, digital

Diversity: Lesbian, transgender, and gay characters, non-binary author, Vietnamese Author and main characters

Takes Place in: Louisiana

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Animal Cruelty, Death, Homophobia, Pedophilia, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

A red algae bloom has taken over Mercy, Louisiana. Ever since a devastating hurricane, mutated wildlife lurks in the water that rises by the day. But Mercy has always been a place where monsters walk in plain sight. Especially at its heart: The Cove, where Noon’s life was upended long before the storm at a party her older boyfriend insisted on.

Now, Noon is stuck navigating the submerged town with her mom, who believes their dead family has reincarnated as sea creatures. Alone with the pain of what happened that night at the cove, Noon buries the truth: she is not the right shape.

When Mercy’s predatory leader demands Noon and her mom capture the creature drowning residents, she reluctantly finds an ally in his deadly hunter of a daughter and friends old and new. As the next storm approaches, Noon must confront the past and decide if it’s time to answer the monster itching at her skin.

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

They Bloom at Night is a queer, coming of age, environmental horror story. What at first appears to be a classic tale of “Man vs Nature,” quickly shifts to show that“monster” and environment are not the main antagonists, so much as the greedy human, and, to an extent, the environmental destruction caused by humans.

Since Hurricane Arlene destroyed the town of Mercy, Louisiana two years ago, a red algae bloom on the Mississippi River has become the longest-lasting known to humans. The algae have made fishing difficult for the teenaged Noon (real name Nhung, but most white people can’t pronounce that) and her mother, Tien. The two women have taken over fishing after the disappearance of Noon’s brother and father, who Tien believes are either still alive or have been reincarnated as sea animals and are waiting for rescue out there somewhere. Their family has a guardian water spirit, named Sông, who Noon sees as little more than superstition. Sông is said to have kept her father’s family safe as they made their perilous journey from Vietnam to the United States by sea, and Sông is the reason Tien is convinced that her husband and son are still out there.

Even though, both have likely drowned, Noon’s mother insists they must stay in Mercy to find them, despite her daughter’s desperation to leave the small town. Mercy holds nothing but bad memories for Noon. After her brother, Jaylen, was born, her parents began to ignore her and favor their son. Their home was all but destroyed by Hurricane Arlene. Noon has never felt welcomed among the racist, sexist town folks who hurl jeers at her and her mother when they dock their boat. Loan Shark and businessman Jimmy, the man who controls most of the town through money and fear, still owns their boat and demands Noon and Tien bring him strange, mutated sea life to sell. And Noon was sexually assaulted at Mercy’s Cove by an older boy who had groomed her. When her mother found her, Noon’s hair had turned white and her skin was flaking off. Her body continues to change, her fingernails all fall out and she can only digest raw meat.

When Noon and Tien get to the dock, a girl named Covey who seems to be overseeing things says they must go see her father, who is revealed to be Jimmy. Jimmy explains he wants them to look for a sea monster. People around Mercy have been disappearing, most recently a government scientist studying the algae bloom named Dr. Lucía Delgado. The government wants to close the fishing season early and possibly designate the whole area a disaster zone, and Jimmy can’t have that. He orders Noon and Tien to find whatever creature is causing the disappearances and bring it back to him in three weeks’ time. He informs them that Covey will be accompanying them on their mission. After Tien becomes ill from a rusty nail injury she receives from Jimmy, the two teens are forced to work together to find Jimmy’s monster. A tense relationship between Covey and Noon slowly blossoms into friendship and then into something more as they race to solve the mysterious disappearances and face their own trauma. On their journey Noon reconnects with her old friend, Wilder, who has run away from home, and meets Saffy, who was kicked out of her home after her parents discovered she was transgender.

The hurricane that nearly destroys Mercy has clear parallels to Hurricane Katrina, the 2005 hurricane that decimated New Orleans and caused nearly 1,000 fatalities. Noon refers to her life after Hurricane Arlene as post-Apocalyptic, even though everything is business as usual outside Louisiana. Mercy has some electricity and running water, but it’s unreliable at best. A Rolling Stone article about Hurricane Katrina entitled it Apocalypse in New Orleans. Vanity Fair has one called Hell and High Water: American Apocalypse. Noon explains that politicians think the people who chose to stay in Mercy deserve what they got. A research paper entitled System Justification in Responding to the Poor and Displaced in the Aftermath of Hurricane Katrina states

“One sentiment that took hold following Katrina was that those who lived in New Orleans were at fault for having chosen to live there in the first place, and for not having evacuated when the officials issued a mandate. Some went so far as to ask why people would choose to live in a city that lies beneath sea level. Talk show hosts and local newspapers blamed victims and asked why the government was obligated to help those who did not evacuate.”

Two men paddle in high water in the Ninth Ward after Hurricane Katrina.

A photo of the Ninth Ward after Hurricane Katrina. Mario Tama/Getty Images

Besides environmental disaster, one of the major themes of the books is the fraught relationship between parents and their children. Noon states “…the people who hurt us most, who forced us here, have been those responsible for our care.” Saffy’s parents forced her to choose between being her authentic self or living with them and pretending to be a boy. Similarly, Wilder runs away from home because his parents want him to be something he’s not. Because boys are more highly valued then girls, an effeminate boy is a disappointment, and Wilder simply couldn’t continue to fit his parents’ idea of what a man should be. Noon is also a victim of toxic masculinity, and is treated as having less value than her brother Jaylen. Even after her brother and father go missing, presumed dead, her mother continues to place a higher importance on them than her living daughter.

I appreciate that, while all the parents had problems, the Asian parents at least seemed to love their children, and were doing their best while burdened with generational trauma and a traditionally sexist culture. Tran is able to challenge the sexism in Vietnamese culture while also making clear that sexism and bad parenting isn’t exclusive to Asians. Wilder has a tense relationship with his parents who are uncomfortable with his bisexuality and even pressure him to be more manly. But at least they don’t disown him like Saffy’s parents do. There’s at least some hope Wilder will one day be able to reconcile with his mom and dad. Jimmy, on the other hand, is completely irredeemable, not just as person but as a parent. Noon says “Like so many parents Jimmy thinks his daughter is only fit for his hopes. But when we inherit those, we also inherit the mistakes. We are the ones to live with the consequences. Every generation before had a semblance of a chance, but we have the end of the world.” He sees Covey only as an extension of himself, just another tool on his belt. Tien at least tries to be a good mother to Noon, trying to protect her, singing her to sleep at night, and performing Cao gio (coining) to relieve her headaches.

I also liked all the random facts about ocean animals strewn throughout the book. Noon is a huge nerd and I’m totally here for it. Through her we learn that the red algae bloom is not toxic to marine life like the red tide (which can be worsened by hurricanes), but it does seem to cause mutations. We also learn how algae have mutualistic symbiotic relationships with several species, like Coralline algae, a red alga which plays an important role in the ecosystems or coral reefs. A similar type of algae lives in Cassiopea jellyfish, which gives the jellies their color and helps them get food.

An aerial photo of a red tide near the FLorida coastline.

Photo of a red tide from WMBF News.

As a story about embracing the “monstrous” parts of yourself, rather than hiding them away to please your family and society They Bloom at Night will especially appeal to queer and trans readers. I suspect Noon may be non-binary, but hasn’t cracked her egg  yet as many of the things she says and feels about being in a “girl’s body,” like “Monsterhood is a girl’s body you don’t belong in”  and not knowing what it means to be a girl, felt familiar to me as a non-binary AFAB person. She feels more comfortable in a “monstrous” body than one that belongs to a girl. The “body horror” is less horror than it is freedom. Tran is also non-binary and uses they/she pronouns so I wonder if they had similar feelings as a young person. There’s a decent amount of trans and queer representation in the book, with Saffy being transgender, Wilder bisexual, Covey a lesbian, and the lead scientist researching the algae bloom, Dr. Delgado, is non-binary. There may also be some neurodiversity among the group as one of the teens quips that they’re “Team Neurotic Kids with Very Specific Interests,” something else that people are expected to hide away for the comfort of the neurotypical.

Tags: Asian American, BIPOC, Body Horror, Book Review, Eco Horror, Gay, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Non-binary, Recommended, Trans, Vietnamese, Young Adult
Draw You In Vol.1 – Collector’s Item by Jasper Bark

Draw You In Vol.1 – Collector’s Item by Jasper Bark

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing

Genre: Blood & Guts, Mystery, Occult

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Gay author, two main characters with mental illness

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Ableism, Amputation, Body Shaming, Child Abuse, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Homophobia, Mental Illness, Pedophilia, Police Harassment, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Slurs, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Xenophobia

Blurb

Can you disappear so completely that only one person remembers you existed?

That’s what comics creator Linda Corrigan asks, when her editor, disappears without a trace. Drawn into an FBI investigation by Agent McPherson, Linda and comics historian Richard Ford unearth a chilling link to the forgotten comic artist R. L. Carver, whose work might just hold the key to a series of mysterious disappearances.

As they explore Carver’s life, they uncover the secret history of horror comics, the misfits, madcaps and macabre masters who forged an industry, frightened a generation and felt the heat of the Federal Government. They also stumble on the shadow history of the United States on a road trip that veers into the nation’s dark underbelly, where forbidden knowledge and forgotten lore await them.

Described as “Kavalier and Clay meets Clive Barker,” Draw You In Vol.1 – Collector’s Item is the first in a mind-bending trilogy of novels. It contains stories within stories that explore horror in all its subgenres, from quiet to psychological horror, from hardcore to cosmic horror.

 

Experience the epic conspiracy thriller that redefines the genre for a new generation.

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

I should start by saying this is the first book in a trilogy, it ends on a cliffhanger, and you’ll be left with more questions than answers. You need to read the full series to get the whole picture, but you won’t have to wait for the next volume to come out because all three books have been published. I’ve only read the first book for this review, so I can’t say what the rest of the series is like, but I enjoyed the first novel. Readers should also be aware the story centers around an FBI investigation with the main character acting as a civilian consultant. While I personally enjoy detective investigation stories like Psych, Lucifer, and Hannibal, I know copaganda is a big turn off for many. Finally, there’s a secret government organization, which may be another turn off for readers, as the whole idea of a wealthy cabal that secretly controls the government has roots in antisemitism (look up “The Elders of Zion” for an example). However, Bark’s secret organization seems to be controlled by wealthy WASPs instead, and one of the people trying to prove its existence is a Jewish man. I personally felt like the secret organization was more of a criticism of how the government often hurts those with marginalized identities than playing into an antisemitic conspiracy theory, but I’m also not Jewish so it may hit different for someone who is.

The story starts with a formerly famous comic book artist named Linda Corrigan who is now struggling to get by. It’s been my personal experience that male authors don’t usually write women well, but I love the way Bark writes Linda. For one thing, I appreciate that she’s middle-aged and heavier set instead of hot, young, and skinny. She acknowledges that her appearance is a double-edged sword; while she no longer gets sexually harassed, misogynist editors now ignore Linda completely. Her complicated relationship with being an artist, especially now that she’s no longer popular, also felt relatable and realistic. Linda loves being an artist, but the industry does not love her back, and it’s a difficult job, full of heartbreak and financial strain. She doesn’t just miss the money, but the attention she used to get as a famous artist.

She’s struggling to market and sell her independent graphic novel, Doom Divine (the title comes from the Algernon Swinburne poem The Death of Richard Wagner) and it’s destroying her morale. Linda misses the old days when she was on panels and invited as a guest artist. As someone who used to do artist alleys at anime cons 10+ years ago, I can relate to Linda’s fond memories of the past. I remember when it was easy to get into an artist alley back in 2009 and Boston Comic Con was a one-day event in a basement room that cost about $20 to get in (you got a discount if you wore a costume). It was mostly indie comic creators and comic shops selling back issues back then. Of course, Linda also admits that comic cons have become much safer for women than they used to be earlier in her career, when she was one of the few female comic artists and was used to sexual harassment. She’s happy to see both more women attendees and women working in the industry.

Linda is getting little traffic at her booth and debates packing it up early when she runs into one of her old editors at Fox Comics (I love that Bark uses a real comic book publisher from the past), Paul Kleinman. The two begin joking around and Paul shows her an old sketchbook of horror art. Linda recognizes the work as being by a little-known comic artist named R.L. Carver. Paul lets her use Carver’s old pen and sketchbook, and she draws a quick portrait of the editor. He ends up inviting her to an exclusive party with a bunch of other editors that could really help Linda’s career. Linda puts on her Vampirella dress (another fun comic book nod), and heads to the party, but when she arrives, no one has heard of Paul and she’s not on the list. To add insult to injury her old assistant editor Stephanie tells her that her dress isn’t age appropriate and too revealing. Hurt and humiliated Linda heads home wondering how Paul could play such a cruel trick on her.

At the con the next day, no one seems to remember who Paul is. His mysterious disappearance triggers one of Linda’s panic attacks. She reports Paul missing after about a week, but the police imply Linda is ether crazy or lying for filing a missing persons report for a man who seemingly doesn’t exist. She’s beginning to believe maybe she really is losing her mind when Agent McPherson of the FBI tracks her down. He tells Linda that Paul isn’t the only mysterious disappearance connected to R.L. Carver’s sketchbook, and he offers her a position as a special advisor to the FBI. Joined by a comic historian named Richard Ford, the three set out to learn the history of the enigmatic Carver. Linda finds herself relating to Carver because he’s also a comic artist ahead of his time who’s dismissed by the industry. As she learns more about his story, she begins to wonder if pursuing a career as an artist is truly worth it. As the mystery at the root of the story unfolds, we also learn more about the comic industry and its history.

The cover for Tales from the Crypt #29 shows a hunch backed ogre nailing a man into a coffin. The cover for Black Cat #50 depicts a man's face and hands melting down to the bone from a tube of uranium. Weird Mysteries #5 shows the purple gloved hands of a man removing the brain of an ape's head. The cover of Eerie #2 has a skeleton holding a lantern and staff of bone leading a woman in chains through a sewer. The woman wears a torn yellow dress.

Tales from the Crypt #29, Black Cat #50, Weird Mysteries #5, Eerie #2

Carver is revealed to be a Black comic artist (although I notice the editor didn’t capitalize Black) like Matt Baker, Elmer C. Stoner, and Jackie Ormes, who starts out drawing horror comics, similar to Alvin C. Hollingsworth (To learn more about Black comic artists check out Invisible Men: The Trailblazing Black Artists of Comic Books). We also learn later in the book that he’s asexual (yay for ace rep). Carver draws stories for the pre-Comics Code horror comics of the early 1950s, like Voodoo, Eerie, Suspense Comics, Black Cat, and Tales from the Crypt. Carver even has his own “horror hosts,” similar to the Crypt Keeper and Uncle Creepy, called the Saints of the Damned. Unfortunately, Carver’s work becomes too realistic and horrific and he’s eventually fired. Struggling to find work, Carver does a brief stint drawing fetish comics. This is similar to Joe Shuster, one of the original creators of Superman, who did BDSM comics under the pseudonym of Clancy when he was desperate for money (which you can learn more about in Secret Identity: The Fetish Art of Superman’s Co-Creator Joe Shuster). Of course, the creation of the Comics Code Authority in 1954 would have made Carver’s graphic illustrations impossible to print.

Blue Beetle #31 depicts a man clad in a blue scaly costume with a blue domino mask, red gloves, and a red belt. He is fighting Japanese soldiers in a WWII battle. There's a tank behind him with American soldiers. The City of the Living Dead cover shows a blond, white woman adventurer holding a whip. She stands in a cave full of human bones in front of a white-faced corpse that's been tied up by the wrists. The cover of Phantom Lady shows a dark haired white woman in a skimpy blue costume with a red belt and red cape. She is standing in front of a giant page with writing that is being read by an emaciated yellow hand with long finger nails.

Blue Beetle #31 drawn by E C Stoner, City of the Living Dead drawn by A.C.Hollingsworth, Phantom Lady #13 drawn by Matt Baker

A psychiatrist named Dr. Fredric Wertham was largely responsible for the Code. His book, Seduction of the Innocent: The Influence of Comic Books on Today’s Youth, blamed comic books that depicted sex, crime, and drug use for contributing to juvenile delinquency by encouraging these acts in young people. Not even the relatively tame superhero comics were safe, with Wertham claiming that Batman and Robin encouraged homosexuality and Superman was un-American and fascist (which I’m sure his two Jewish creators must have appreciated). Seduction of the Innocent was extremely popular, even winning a Book of the Year award, and this popularity stirred up a moral panic across the country. This eventually lead the United States Senate Subcommittee on Juvenile Delinquency to hold the comic book hearings  in 1954. By September of that year the Comics Magazine Association of America came together to create the now defunct Comics Code Authority, a self-censoring body to regulate the content of comic books. Rukes included “No comic magazine shall use the words “horror” or “terror” in its title” and “All lurid, unsavory, gruesome illustrations shall be eliminated.” This censorship hit horror comics, particularly publisher EC, especially hard.

Finally, Carver settled on making Underground comix. Comix emerged in the 1960s partially in response to the draconian restrictions enforced by the Comics Code Authority. These comics were either self-published or published by a small press and were sold in head shops. They often depicted drug use, free love, and political commentary. The golden age of underground comix lasted from 1968 to 1972, starting when Robert Crumb published Zap Comix. Underground horror comix rose in popularity during this time, many of them inspired by the EC Comics of the 1950s. Titles including Skull (Rip Off Press), Insect Fear (Print Mint), Death Rattle (Kitchen Sink), and Bogeyman (San Francisco Comic Book Company) were published in the early 1970s.

Boogeyman shows a monster in a graveyard with green skin and a white face with giant black eyes and a salivating mouth full of sharp teeth. In it's fist it holds a small demon with moth wings. Skull shows what appears to be an Aztec cult. There is a disfigured face in the foreground in a black cloak with a symbol on the forehead. A light skinned woman in a skimpy outfit walks a fierce dog on a leash. Insect Fear depicts a giant, neon green mosquito in a laboratory.

Bogeyman #3, Skull #5, Insect Fear #1

The amount of research that went into creating Draw You In Collector’s Item is impressive. Bark makes several references to real world artists like John Severin and Jack Cole, writers like Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko, publishers like Fox Comics (creator of Blue Beetle) and EC (creator of Tales from the Crypt and Mad Magazine), series like Terry and the Pirates, and even individual comics like DC’s House of Secrets #92 which features the first appearance of Swamp Thing. Bark also references other historical elements like the Cartoonist and Illustrators School (later the School of Visual Arts) created by Burne Hogarth for returning GIs and the Kefauver Hearings. Even the Louisiana Voodoo (which has differences from Haitian Vodou) was well researched, something that’s rare in the horror genre and routinely reduces a religion down to zombies and curses. I studied Vodou in college as part of an anthropology course (there was a lot of arguing with my white professor that yes, it was in fact a “real” religion) and found that Bark uses proper terminology when referring to the spiritual leaders (oungan and manbo), spirits (lwa), symbols (veves) and takes care to not make Voodoo seem like a “primitive” belief system. Bark even includes the manbo and ougan, Cécile Fatiman and Dutty Boukman, who conducted a Vodou ceremony at Bois Caïman, which is credited with being the catalyst that started 1791 slave rebellion of the enslaved Haitians against the French slaveholders.

The numerous mysteries at the center of the story (many of which I haven’t revealed to avoid spoilers) grabbed my attention and managed to hold it for the entirety of the book: no small feat considering I have ADD and can’t focus on one thing for long. The characters are all intriguing and I enjoyed the diversity of opinions and personalities. For example, Richard struggles with the stigma of having a mental illness while also having to be reminded by Linda to be more aware of his white male privilege, which always ruffles his feathers. Sometimes she feels sympathy for him, other times she appreciates how he admires her work or is impressed by his research skills, and on still other occasions she finds him incredibly frustrating and ignorant. I appreciate Bark’s honest representations of mental health for both Linda and Richard as well as accurate exploration of the harassment women face in the comic book industry. Overall, this is a fun, captivating read and I can see why it’s called Draw You In because that’s exactly what this book does.

 

Tags: Adult, African American, Asexual, Black, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Gay, LGBTQIA, Mental Illness, Mystery, Occult
I’m Sorry if I Scared You by Mae Murray

I’m Sorry if I Scared You by Mae Murray

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Medusa Publishing Haus

Genre: Body Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Bisexual main character, Lesbian major character; queer author of Indigenous descent with a chronic illness/physical disability 

Takes Place in: Arkansas

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Antisemitism, Childbirth, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Gore, Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Police Harassment, Rape/Sexual Assault, Slurs, Slut-Shaming

Blurb

Thanksgiving 2010.
The world prepares for the first lunar eclipse to take place on the winter solstice since the year 1638. Crop circles, strange animals, disappearances, and UFOs permeate the empty countryside of the American South.

Odette “Odie” Tucker is a first-generation college student, returning home from Boston to rural Arkansas for the holidays. On the drive home, she endures a pill-induced abortion in a gas station bathroom, the product of a recent rape she has told no one about. On a whim, she ‘rescues’ the clump of expelled cells in a plastic water bottle.

At home, Odie faces the suppressed feelings of abandonment from her family and lifelong best friend Dale, an out butch lesbian Odie is too afraid to admit she’s in love with. When Odie’s abortion becomes sentient and possesses her, she begins to live vicariously through its complete embrace of life, love, sex, violence, and vengeance.

I started I’m Sorry if I Scared You while recovering from a salpingectomy. One of my biggest phobias is getting pregnant and giving birth, and with Roe v. Wade being overturned in 2022 and the current administration’s war on birth control, I wasn’t taking any chances. And post-sterilization seemed like a good time to read a Southern rape revenge story about a sentient fetus and the occasional space alien.

Most of the story takes place in rural Arkansas, from where Murray originally hails. I’m Sorry if I Scared You is a love letter to that area and the low-income families that do their best to survive there. Poverty is a serious issue in Arkansas. Its poverty rate of 17.2% is the seventh highest in the nation, above the national official poverty measure of 11.1%. It’s one of the worst states for child well-being, has a higher suicide by gun rate than the rest of the US, has an incarceration rate of 912 per 100,000 people (making it the third highest in the Nation), is one of the least educated states, the most homophobic/transphobic, and is ranked one of the worst states to live in due to the economy. In contrast, Massachusetts, the state where Murray currently lives and her main character, Odie (short for Odette), goes to school, is one of the richest states, the first to legalize same-sex marriage in the country, and the most educated state in the US. We were also voted the snobbiest state (and apparently we’re proud of it), but more on that later. Odie is the first in her family to get into college (implied to be Harvard) and she views school and moving to Mass as her ticket to a better life. That is, until she’s raped by another student and discovers things can be shitty pretty much anywhere.

Disillusioned and depressed now that she knows college in Massachusetts can be just as shitty as the things that happen at home, Odie takes Plan B and drives back to Arkansas for Thanksgiving break to find comfort among her friends and family. She drives while bleeding through her pants and passes the clump of cells in a gas station bathroom. For reasons unknown to her, Odie decides to save the embryo in a plastic water bottle and bring it home with her. We learn that Odie has very mixed feelings about home. She’s ashamed of the insect infested trailer and the poverty in which her family lives, but at the same time, she loves her family and her two best friends, Dale (short for Dhalia) and Dwayne, and wants to be with them after such a traumatic event. Both her father and stepmother struggle with substance use disorder, alcohol for her dad and pills for her stepmom, and her teenage brother, Bubba, has already been to rehab for meth.

Substance use disorder (SUD)* does not discriminate when it comes to socioeconomic status, but poverty, lack of formal education, and unemployment are all risk factors for fatal overdoses and make it more difficult to recover from SUD. At my current job working with patients with SUD, I see how much more our low-income and unhoused patients struggle with their recovery than our patients with more financial stability. There are fewer detoxes that accept Medicaid and MassHealth (I live and work in Massachusetts, and MassHealth is our public state insurance), and those that do are often not as nice as the ones that only accept private insurance. Poverty and being unhoused can have disastrous effects on mental health by increasing stress and feelings of hopelessness, which in turn increases the risk of substance abuse. It’s also extremely hard to try and focus on getting better when all your energy goes toward trying to survive. There’s also the shame that comes with both, as poverty and addiction are often viewed by our society as a moral failing, as if poverty and substance use were choices.

Odie struggles with the complexities of loving someone with substance use disorder. Her father is kind and loving one moment, then flies into a violent rage the next. He drinks while he drives, terrifying Odie and Dale. But Odie seems to have accepted his alcoholism as a fact of life, which makes it even sadder. Murray does an excellent job capturing the feelings of despair felt not just by Odie after her assault, but of her friends and family who didn’t “escape” rural Arkansas. Shortly after her return, Odie and Dale head to Club Trinity (probably based on the Triniti Nightclub in Little Rock), the only gay club in the state. Even with Arkansas passing anti-LGBTQIA+ bills left and right, there are still safe havens for the queer community in Arkansas, like Eureka Springs, “the gayest small town in America.” Odie remarks that “The Southern queers did not have the same air of self-importance as the queers in Massachusetts” which, as a Massachusetts queer, I really wanted to be offended by, but it is kind of true. Having lived in Mass my whole life, there’s definitely a lot of classism here, and people will often ask where you went to college so they can judge how well educated you are, especially if you’re in the Boston area or one of the college towns. I’ve read posts by white Massachusetts liberals who will joke about Southern states “getting what they deserve” under Trump, as if there aren’t leftists in red states, and painting Southerners as lesser because they view them as poor and uneducated (and apparently think being low-income and lacking a formal education somehow makes you inferior). They don’t even realize how racist this is since the South has a large Black population.

My grandmother was from Tennessee and also left her depressed hometown of Iron City (the subject of the documentary Iron City Blues) during the great migration to move to Chicago and get her degree. Her family expected her to return home to be a teacher when she graduated, but she knew if she returned, she’d never escape the Jim Crow South and instead stayed in Chicago where there were more opportunities for an educated Black woman. Unlike Odie, my grandmother had nothing but negative things to say about the town she grew up in, and the South was full of bad memories for her. Odie knows her town isn’t a good or safe place to live, but there’s still love there. It’s why she goes back to Arkansas to seek comfort.

This was a weird ass book, and I mean that in the best way possible. I wish I could give more away, but since it’s short, I don’t want to spoil anything. Two of the book’s major themes are police violence and sexual assault (which feels especially poignant in today’s political environment) and it’s gratifying to read about Odie getting her revenge on both the cops and her rapist. A satisfying and sick fantasy since we so rarely get justice in the real world. I liked that there was polyamorous representation and we get to see what it’s like to be queer in a red state. It’s also refreshing to see Murray subvert “hixploitation” horror (examples include films such as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, Motel Hell, and Wrong Turn). Here it’s not the “hillbillies” who are the source of horror, but the rich college kid and corrupt cops.

*If you or someone you know struggles with substance use disorder check out SMART Recovery, a secular and research based peer support group.

Tags: Adult, American Indian, BIPOC, Bisexual, Body Horror, Book Review, Chronic Illness, Disability, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Own Voices, Physical Disability, Queer, Sci-Fi

This Thing is Starving Isobel Aislin

 

This Thing is Starving by Isobel Aislin. Highly Recommended. Read if you like Linghun, The Road to Hell by Terry Benton-Walker

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Independently Published

Genre: Ghosts/Haunting, Historic Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Asexual main character, trans man character, lesbian character

Takes Place in: Pennsylvania

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Death, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Homophobia, Medical Procedure, Mental Illness, Pedophilia, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Sexism, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Suicide, Transphobia, Victim Blaming, Violence

Blurb

It’s just a house, right? Houses can’t hurt. Houses can’t bleed.

But this house wants you to.

When the Waite family moves into their new home, they don’t bargain on being unwanted guests. But this house has deep-rooted, blood soaked history, and it’s angry. This Thing is Starving is an unflinchingly feminist love letter to the abused, bursting with feminine rage and told from the perspective of a haunted house.

Warning, this review discusses abuse, rape, and the sexual abuse of minors.

The house on 4377 N. Oscar St is haunted. But this is not your typical haunted house story. This story is told from the house’s point of view as it witnesses the tragedies that befall its owners throughout the year. The house is haunted by four women and one trans boy. The first, and oldest, is Lillian. She lived in the house with her husband in the 1920s and is the most unstable of the five ghosts. Jason was a teenaged, closeted trans boy from the 1950s. Lila was a lesbian from 1975 who hated her queerness. In 2002 the house was owned by a woman named Karissa, a child abuse survivor who struggles with low self-esteem. The final ghost is Kay, a teenaged girl who died in the house after it was abandoned by Karissa in the early 2000s. All the ghosts are victims of abuse, sexual assault, or other forms of violence at the hands of men, and they all met with tragic ends either by their own hand or at the hands of others.

Veronica Waite and her family are the house’s most recent inhabitants. Her mother, Louise, moved them there after escaping an abusive partner and is doing her best to start over. The house immediately takes a disliking to the family, with its wild and grubby children and Louise who it immediately labels a “bad mother” due to her love of wine, parentification of Veronica, and inability to keep track of all her children. The only exception to the house’s ire is Veronica, whom the house feels strangely drawn to. It views her as “a splotch of brightness amongst the gloom” and tries its best to communicate with the eldest Waite child. Veronica certainly seems happy in the beginning. She finds a new friend quickly, makes the cheerleading team, and even lands a hot, football playing boyfriend. She creates beautiful art to hang in her attic room. But then things start to unravel for the family, and the house can do little to stop it. As Veronica struggles with her asexuality and trying to take care of her siblings, she slowly learns how cruel the world can be to women and girls.

Most of the men in this story are horrible, even an old man whose obituary Louise is editing. I’m sure the “not all men” crowd will object to the fact that almost all the cisgender men (and boys) in the story are awful human beings (admittedly sometimes to the point of feeling like caricatures), but I believe this is intentional. The story is being told from the point of view of the house, and the house hates men. Because the house can only witness what happens within its walls, or the lives of the unhappy ghosts who haunt it, the house rarely gets to see the good parts of humanity. Statistically, the majority or murders and rapes are committed by men, so of course the ghosts are more likely to be victims of male violence, leading to the house believing  that all men are inherently bad. Toward the end of the book, a character named Owen shows up who is devoid of the toxic traits shown by most of the other male characters. While he clearly has a crush on his female coworker, he respects her boundaries, supports her decisions, and keeps his desire to protect her in check. But of course, the house can’t recognize that he’s a good man like the audience can, and immediately hates Owen.

Ironically, the house is reinforcing harmful gender stereotypes because it doesn’t understand the complexities and nuances of abuse. It can only see people as innocent victims (women, girls, and AFAB people) or evil perpetrators (cisgender men and boys). But characterizing men as inherently evil gives them permission to behave horribly, as it rejects the notion that they have control over their actions. Essentially, it’s a more insidious form of “boys will be boys.”  But men can, and need to, do better. The house also conveniently ignores the fact that women can not only support the harmful actions of men, but can be perpetrators themselves, and that men can be victims, but Aislin does not. Lillian is abused by her serial killer husband, but when she finally snaps and kills him, she doesn’t free the women he has chained in the basement. Instead, she replaces her husband as the predator in the house and kills them. She even slut shames her husband’s victims, justifying their rapes and murders to herself. Veronica’s younger twin brothers, Charlie and Sawyer, are also revealed to be victims of their father’s abuse (especially Sawyer). Sadly, like Lillian, Sawyer becomes an abuser himself, acting out what he experienced at the hands of his father on his little sister Leslie. The house makes an exception for Jason, a trans man, another victim of male violence, but not for the twins. I suspect that’s because the house is mildly transphobic, and sees Jason as a woman, even though he’s clearly a man and his ghost has a male-presenting form.

While the house feels a fierce protectiveness of Veronica and her baby sister, it shows a cold indifference to their brothers. Interestingly, Louise was also abused by her husband, yet the house doesn’t group her in with other victims. Instead, it views her with scorn for “failing” to protect her girls (but not the boys). This is another sign that the house is not entirely free from its own sexist bias and doesn’t fully understand how abuse works. The house’s hatred of Louise is understandable, with its strong desire to protect, it cannot comprehend a mother “failing” to do so. The problem is that the house expects her to be perfect just because she’s a mom, even though Louise is a victim herself and doing the best she can under the circumstances. She loves her children, and tries her best to protect them, even when the police fail to.

Sadly, judging mothers who are being abused is not an uncommon occurrence. In an interview with NPR, Mother Jones reporter Samantha Michaels explains “It’s basically sexism. Most of the legal experts that I talked with said that it comes down to a cultural expectation that women are responsible for what happens in the home. There’s an expectation that they should be the moral center of the family, that they should reign in the man’s worst impulses, and that they should do whatever they can to protect their child, even if it means, you know, sacrificing themselves.” Mothers can have their children taken from them, and are even sent to prison due to Draconian “failure to protect” laws. Kerry King is one such mother, who is serving a 30-year sentence in prison for not protecting her daughter from their abuser, John Purdy, who is only serving 18 years for abusing King and her daughter. On October 26, 2004 in the case of Nicholson v. Williams the New York Court of Appeals ruled that children who witnessed abuse were wrongfully removed from their mother’s care, and that their non-abusive mothers had not been “neglectful” simply because they were unable to protect their children from witnessing domestic abuse.

This Thing is Starving starts with statistics about the rape, exploitation, and abuse of women and girls. Aislin states that the story is dedicated to the women who never get justice and whose stories are never heard. The book reminds me of rape revenge films without the sensationalism/exploitation common for the genre, similar to Promising Young Woman and Revenge (both films notably have female directors). Except, in this story, most of the victims don’t get revenge. Revenge against an abuser may be satisfying in fiction, but it rarely happens in real life where men often get away with hurting women. This makes the book feel more realistic. And when the house, full of pain and rage, lashes out and tries to hurt abusers and rapists, it usually hurts the innocent as well.

For example, when the house violently kills the teen boys who attempt to rape Kay, she also gets caught in the crossfire and is killed. Hate and anger rarely hurt just the intended target, but others as well. As Maddie Oatman so eloquently puts in her rape revenge article for Mother Jones “These stories offer a retributive vision of justice, the violence of the man mirrored back onto him. Traditional gender roles are flipped—the woman is the predator, and the man is the prey—but the basic shape of the conventional revenge story is unchanged. Witnessing women take revenge in film and fiction may offer a cathartic thrill, but the trope can also function as a trap; vengeance replicates the same power structure the avenger wishes to hold accountable.” She further goes on to explain “But justice can and should mean something other than the balancing of harms, as prison and police abolitionists and other activists have argued. In resisting the carceral approach to punishment, they advocate a politics of structural change, of experimentation and openness to new social forms. These ideas demand a radical artistic approach to match, a breaking free of the traps of the revenge plot. A couple of recent works give us a sense of this. Call it the reparative mode.”

Aislin shows us that there are other, healthier ways to heal from trauma than hunting down and killing your rapist (something victims are sadly arrested for in real life). And honestly, I really appreciate that Aislin presents more realistic ways that survivors can heal from trauma, like leaning on others they trust for support and opening up about what happened.  Instead of perpetuating the cycle of violence like the house does, the survivors heal by breaking free of it. This Thing is Starving is certainly a difficult and heart-wrenching read that contains abortion, rape, revenge porn, conversion therapy, drug addiction, suicidal thoughts, an infant’s death, pedophilia, trauma, a minor doing sex work, and transphobia. But Aislin doesan amazing job handling the difficult topics of abuse, sexual assault, and trauma without making the story feel like trauma porn.

Tags: Adult, Asexual, Book Review, Ghosts/Haunting, Highly Recommended, Historic Horror, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Queer, Trans
Malicia by Steven dos Santos

Malicia by Steven dos Santos

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Page Street Publishing

Genre: Blood & Guts, Demon, Monster, Mystery, Myth and Folklore, Occult

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Gay and bisexual man characters, Dominican Americans, character with anxiety disorder

Takes Place in: The Dominican Republic

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Ableism, Child Death, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Medical Torture/Abuse, Mental Illness, Suicide, Torture, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Vomit

Blurb

Four friends, three days, two lovers, and one very haunted theme park.

On a stormy Halloween weekend, Ray enlists his best friends Joaquin, Sofia, and Isabella to help him make a documentary of Malicia, the abandoned theme park off the coast of the Dominican Republic where his mother and brother died in a mass killing thirteen years ago.

But what should be an easy weekend trip quickly turns into something darker because all four friends have come to Malicia for their own.

Ray has come to Malicia to find out the truth of the massacre that destroyed his family. Isabella has come to make art out of Ray’s tragedy for her own personal gain. Sofia has come to support her friends in one last adventure before she goes to med school. Joaquin already knows the truth of the Malicia Massacre and he has come to betray his crush Ray to the evil that made the park possible.

With an impending hurricane and horrors around every corner, they all struggle to face the deadly storm and their own inner demons. But the deadliest evil of all is the ancient malignant presence on the island.

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

The story is told through alternating first-person perspectives between the four main characters; Raymundo, Joaquin, Sofia, and Isabella. The friends are traveling to spend Halloween weekend in Raymundo’s family’s abandoned, horror-themed amusement park, Malicia. The park was closed after a mysterious mass murder took place, claiming the lives of Raymundo’s mother and brother. The island on which Malicia was built is only accessible by boat, and there’s a massive hurricane headed right toward them, so good luck trying to escape if anything goes wrong. You may question the teens’ decision to go to what is very obviously a cursed murder island during a hurricane, but each of the four have their own reason for being there. Raymundo wants to try and summon his brother’s spirit, Isabella wants to film a documentary about the island, and Joaquin wants to sacrifice Raymundo because the cult he belongs to told him to. (Don’t worry, that’s revealed early in the story, so it’s hardly a spoiler.) Sofia is  there because her friends are, and because she very firmly doesn’t believe in the supernatural or scare easily.

I think the characters were somewhat underdeveloped and one-note, and the exposition felt awkward at times. But honestly, the characters were just an excuse to explore the super cool setting. I mean, an abandoned, horror-themed, cursed, amusement park? Could there be a more perfect location for a horror story? And Santos clearly put a lot of thought into describing Malicia in loving detail. There’s an entire map in the beginning of the book (and I’m a sucker for maps) showing the different areas of the park, like Serial Springs, Paranormal Place, and Creature Canyon. I also liked the ride descriptions, which all sounded like tons of fun.

Malicia strongly reminded meof the island setting in Umineko When They Cry, where the characters are trapped by a typhoon on a remote island that is slowly overtaken by the supernatural (and everyone there dies horrible deaths). As both stories progress, the scares move from strange shadows and murders that could’ve been committed by a human to horror that’s clearly the work of demonic forces.

I enjoyed how the author not only used Spanish frequently throughout the book (which I appreciate that the publisher did not italicize) but words and phrases specific to the Dominican. The friends name their little group the Quisqueya Club, a word of Taíno origin that refers to the inhabitants of Hispaniola. Raymundo and Joaquin refer to each other as pana and tiguere, the friends informally greet each other with “Qué lo que” (what’s up?), Raymundo calls his parents Mai and Pai, and he admits to himself that he’s a Jablador (liar). Many of the monsters are also specific to the Dominican like Los Biembiens and La Jupia. The four friends also prepare Dominican food like mangú and yaniqueques.

Malicia an incrediblya spooky, gory, fun read. Even though it’s a 300+ page book, it felt like a quick read because the chapters are short and the suspense was able to grab my attention, although, admittedly, the story did drag a bit in the middle. The shifting viewpoints throughout the book helped build the suspense as the characters all started to become suspicious of each other. Because it was written for teens, it felt like a PG-13 horror movie with R-rated violence, which, of course, you can get away with in a book. The descriptions of mutilated bodies and rotting flesh are very graphic so this one is definitely not for the squeamish horror fan.

Tags: Anxiety Disorder, BIPOC, Bisexual, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Demon, Disability, Dominican, Gay, Latine/Latino, LGBTQIA, Monster, Mystery, Myths and Folklore, Occult, Own Voices, Young Adult
Feeding Lucy by Mo Medusa

Feeding Lucy by Mo Medusa

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Crooked Foot Press

Genre: Occult

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Lesbian main character, queer, non-binary author

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Cannibalism, Death, Gore, Gaslighting, Gore, Sexism Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Vomit 

Blurb

Frankie left home ten years ago, abandoning the tall mountains of her small hometown for the tall buildings of the big city. Desperate for a new life, she was happy to escape her overly-critical mother and the Polish-American customs of her past.

But after a strange caller informs her of her mother’s sudden death, she’s reluctantly drawn back to the mountains for the first time in a decade.

Arriving days before the Scandinavian tradition of Sankta Lucia, the town is aglow with holiday lights and cheer—and the townspeople can’t stop talking about the annual Feast of St. Lucy.

When an unexpected blizzard rolls through, revealing the true nature of the feast—and the evil that resides in the mountains—the darkness of her mother’s past is brought to light once again.

Caught between tradition and terror, Frankie quickly learns that her mother’s overbearing influence won’t be stopped by her death alone.

Taking elements from The Night of the Witches in Polish folklore, and the real tradition of Sankta Lucia, Feeding Lucy is a story of grief, tradition, and the darkness that lives inside of us all.

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

Frankie, or Franciska, as her mother calls her, is suffering through an awkward holiday party at her job when she gets the call that her mother has died. Frankie had a complex relationship with her volatile mother, Lucja. The two lived together in an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere along with Lucja’s ancient, cranky cat, Zula. Growing up, Frankie felt like her mother loved that old cat more than her. She doesn’t expect affection from her mother because it is so rarely given, and eventually stops expecting everything at all. Lucja is both overbearing and withholding as a mother, obsessing over everything her daughter does one moment, then punishing her with the silent treatment the next. Frankie fears disappointing her mother above all else, yet always seems to do so. Lucja judges everything her daughter does, what she wears, and even what she displays in her room. She grows to hate Lucja, and gets away from her the first chance she gets. Frankie moves to the city, gets a job at a magazine, and joins the local queer scene. She goes no contact with her mother and forgets all about her until she gets the call. Frankie has no interest in her mother’s body, or returning to their small town, but the coroner promises her that Lucja left her a “pretty penny” and she’ll need to come back to her hometown if she wants to collect the insurance money.

Franciska is from Kolbe, a town built by immigrants all from the same small village in Poland, whose descendants are determined to keep their traditions alive. To Franciska, it seems more like they can’t let go of the past. One of their most important traditions is Sankta Lucia (Saint Lucy’s Day) a Catholic feast day commemorating the Sicilian saint who was martyred during the Diocletianic Persecution by the Roman Empire. Saint Lucy’s Day is held on December 13th and is viewed as a precursor of Christmas Day. Because the name Lucia is derived from the Latin “lux,” meaning “light,” and her feast day is celebrated during the darkest time of year, Saint Lucy’s Day is considered a “festival of light” meant to drive away the darkness, similar to Diwali or Hannukah. Young girls dress up as Saint Lucy, in a white robe with a red sash and a wreath of candles on their heads. Songs are sung and saffron buns eaten.

A drawing of a girl with long blond hair and brown eyes wearing a white dress with a red sash. Oh her head is crown of green leaves, red berries, and six white candles. She is holding a seventh candle and it's casting shadows on her face. The picture has a dark blue background with a gold border and holly leaves surrounding the image.

An example of what girls wear for Saint Lucia

Interestingly, Lucia shares her holiday with another Lucy, the Scandinavian Lussi. Lussinatta, or Lussi’s Night is similar to the legend of the Wild Hunt, where Lussi and her band of trolls, witches, and undead spirits would spend the darkest night of the year searching for unsuspecting humans who had stayed out too late or not finished their chores. Those who had not finished spinning yarn or threshing could expect to have their chimneys smashed. Those who were especially unfortunate would be whisked away by Lussi, never to be seen again.

And wouldn’t you know it, Frankie has arrived in Kolbe just in time for the annual Saint Lucy’s feast her mother always organized and the town’s people are very invested in making sure Lucja’s estranged daughter attends the feast (red flag number one). But Frankie just wants to get her inheritance and go back to the city. That is, until she runs into her long-lost love, Stella, working at the coroner’s office. Frankie is so smitten with her former girlfriend that she immediately agrees to stay for Sankta Lucia despite her initial hesitation, and gives Stella a pass for her strange, mercurial behavior (red flag number two). She only briefly wonders how it’s possible that Zula, who was already an old cat when Frankie was a child, is still alive (red flag number three). Even the disturbing visions Frankie starts having during the day, and the horrible nightmares when she sleeps, don’t clue her in to the fact that something is deeply wrong in Kolbe.

I appreciated the depiction of Lucja and Frankie’s dysfunctional relationship. The more we learn, the clearer it becomes that Lucja is emotionally abusive to her daughter, but as is often the case when there’s no physical component, the abuse is not immediately obvious. Lucja uses guilt to manipulate and control her daughter, alternating between coldness and gentle affection. Her love is conditional and young Frankie feels like she has to earn it.

An estranged adult child returning to their small town only to discover the town’s dark secret is one of my favorite horror tropes (seen in such films as Salem’s Lot and Dead Silence), so this was right up my alley. The story has a witchy vibe and a dark, moody atmosphere that makes reading it feel like the calm before the storm (or blizzard in this case). This slow burn horror is perfect for a dark winter’s night.

Tags: Adult, Book Review, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Non-binary, Occult, Queer

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These Bodies Ain’t Broken Edited by Madeline Dyer

These Bodies Ain’t Broken Edited by Madeline Dyer

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Page Street Publishing

Genre: Body Horror, Demon, Historic Horror, Monster, Myths and Folklore, Romance, Vampire

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Authors and characters with disabilities including ADHD, anxiety, agoraphobia, Autism, celiac disease, chronic pain, Crohn’s disease, diabetes, Down syndrome, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Fibromyalgia, mast cell activation syndrome (MCAS), neurofibromatosis, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), PTSD, and substance use disorder. Non-binary main character and author, agender main character, biracial Haitian side character, bisexual main character.

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Ableism, Amputation,  Animal Death, Body Shaming, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Classism, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gore, Homophobia, Illness, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Oppression, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse, Self-Harm, Sexism, Slurs,  Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Victim Blaming, Violence

Blurb

A monstrous transformation within your own body.
A sacrificial imprisonment.
A fight to the death against an ancient evil.

These stories showcase disabled characters winning against all odds.

Outsmarting deadly video games, hunting the predatory monster in the woods, rooting out evil within their community, finding love and revenge with their newly turned vampire friend—this anthology upends expectations of the roles disabled people can play in horror. With visibly and invisibly disabled characters whose illnesses include Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Crohn’s disease, diabetes, PTSD, and more, each entry also includes a short essay from the author about the conditions portrayed in their stories to further contextualize their characters’ perspectives. From breaking ancient curses to defying death itself, these 13 horror stories cast disabled characters as heroes we can all root for.

Contributors include bestselling and award-winning as well as emerging authors: Dana Mele, Lillie Lainoff, Soumi Roy, Anandi, Fin Leary, S.E. Anderson, K. Ancrum, Pintip Dunn, Lily Meade, Mo Netz, P.H. Low, and Carly Nugent.

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

Horror isn’t exactly known for having good disability rep, so it was great having an anthology written by authors with disabilities because there was so much variety in representation. There was everything from Crohn’s disease to Ehlers-Danlos syndrome to PTSD. In some stories, a character’s disability played a huge role (Baby Teeth, Within the Walls, The Worst of It), and it’s only mentioned in passing in others (When the Night Calls, Kissed by Death). At the end of each story, the author would write about how they chose to represent disability in their work, and some even shared their experiences with their own disabilities and how they related to their stories.

I loved that both invisible and visible disabilities were featured. I have invisible disabilities myself (ADHD and mental illness), but for a long time I didn’t consider myself disabled because, like many people, I thought the only disabilities that existed were visible. This caused me a great deal of stress because I was always trying to compare myself to neurotypical people. It never occurred to me to ask for accommodations because I thought I should be able to “power through” any challenges on willpower alone. Engaging with the disability community online helped me be more accepting of my own disability. I learned that I wasn’t “broken,” the difficulties I had were not moral failings, and having a disability is not a “bad” thing. I discovered that the things I struggled with due to ADHD and mental illness were not my fault, it was just a difference in brain chemistry that I was born with. Accepting my disability meant I also accepted help and learned to function with my disability instead of always fighting against it. It was empowering. So, reading stories about ADHD and mental health in a disability anthology felt incredibly validating. Not only that, but these characters with disabilities got to be the heroes. It was awesome reading about a woman with ADHD get revenge on the men who wronged her and a non-binary person whose mental illness was not the source of horror in the story. Another great thing about These Bodies Ain’t Broken is the amount of intersectionality. There were queer characters, non-binary characters, Asian characters, etc.

This review would be unreasonably long if I examined every story in the collection I will focus on a few that stood out to me. When the Night Calls by Soumi Roy takes place in 19th century Bengal. Charu is a newly married 16-year-old girl whose best friend Malati, an educated city girl who is fiercely independent, has disappeared without a trace. Malati’s cold husband claims that his wife was lured into the forest and taken by the Nishi Daak for being so willful. He says it was Malati’s own fault she was taken, but Charu isn’t sure what to believe. Malati always told her the Nishi Daak was just a story told to keep women in line. Although Charu does her best to be an obedient wife and daughter-in-law her curiosity gets the better of her and she stumbles across the terrible secret kept by the village men; the reason women and girls of the village keep disappearing. This bloody story of feminine vengeance and Bengali monsters was an extremely satisfying read. I also enjoyed it as Charu and I share a disability, ADHD (although it’s not named it the story the author reveals that Charu is neurodiverse). I related to the frustration of making mistakes, even when you’re trying your hardest, and how painful it is when people around you attribute this to laziness or “just not paying attention.”

The first line of Thy Creature by Lillie Lainoff draws you in immediately. “The hardest thing about coming back to life is remembering how to breathe.” Told in the second person, this Frankenstein inspired tale tells the story of a girl brought back to life by her college boyfriend, Cal, after she dies in a hiking accident. Despite being a mediocre boyfriend at best, the protagonist seems perfectly happy to settle and set her expectations low when it comes to Cal, especially since she now owes him for bringing her back to life. The story reminded me so much of all the straight women who settle for awful men because they don’t think they deserve better. Hey, there’s a reason single women are happier.

Dating while disabled comes with its own set of challenges especially when dating someone without a disability. The non-disabled person may only date someone with a disability out of pity or because they fetishize their disability. This also applies to anyone who isn’t skinny, white, cisgender, etc. (aka has their own category on Pornhub), so heaven help you if you belong to more than one of those marginalized groups (intersectionality). Then there’s all the misconceptions, like the assumption that people with disabilities aren’t sexual (obviously Ace people with disabilities exist, but that’s a sexual orientation, and has nothing to do with their disabilities). As Lainoff’s protagonist slowly builds confidence, she also learns she doesn’t have to settle just because she has a disability and that maybe her boyfriend isn’t all that great.

In Ravenous by Carly Nugent, the protagonist, Linden, is struggling with depression and passive suicidal ideation. She refuses to monitor her blood sugar or manage her diabetes which has already landed her in the ER once. Linden has decided she’s just going not to accept her diabetes, forcing her mother to help her manage most of it, and she’d rather die from it than live with it. I like that Nugent wrote about the difficulty someone with a chronic illness goes through when they’re first diagnosed. Linden is still in the denial and depression stages of her grief after learning her life will never be the same. But over the course of the story, she learns to accept that she has diabetes, and it doesn’t mean her life is over. I love that the author didn’t portray disability in a negative light while also acknowledging that yes, finding out that you’re going to have to manage a chronic illness for the rest of your life can really suck.

Another story I really liked was House of Hades by Dana Mele. House of Hades is a virtual world filled with gamers and virtual replicas of the dead. The tech was originally funded by some billionaire who wanted to live forever. But when he learned that you can’t really become an immortal machine, he sold the program, which was used it to create House of Hades. They call the digital clones “ghosts,” which include historical figures like Shakespeare and Marie Antoinette. The game is so realistic that if you die in the game you can die in real life (so Matrix rules) unless you “wake up,” which is why the game requires a buddy system. The voice command “wake up” triggers the exit protocol. Unfortunately, you need someone else to trigger it for you, you can’t exit yourself, which seems like a serious design flaw.

Ode and Era are two gamers who like to hang out in House of Hades. Ode is currently grounded, and isn’t supposed to be playing the game because they’ve been abusing pills and recently had an overdose on a drug called V (aka Viper, the story’s fictional drug). Their parents recently got divorced and they’re struggling with it. When they go back to Hades with Era, Ode is shocked to discover they’ve been separated. Now Ode is all alone in a dark little town, seemingly empty, but something is watching them. They are forced to solve puzzles and play the town’s strange game to try and find Era and a way out.

I thought the setting was very creative, and I like that the protagonist was non-binary like me. In the story notes Mele explains how she didn’t like the way horror villains were always portrayed as mentally ill. As someone with my own mental illness and who has spent time inpatient at mental health hospitals (or as I like to call it “a grippy sock vacation”) it hurts when I hear people talk about the “dangerous crazies” in the psych ward or explain away a person’s terrible behavior (racism, violence, abuse, etc.) by saying “they’re crazy.” They’re not mentally ill, they’re just awful people! And mentally ill people are more likely to be the victims of violent crime than commit it. Only a very small percent of violent crimes (around 5%) are committed by people with mental illness. Yet the myth of the “crazed killer” prevails in horror. So, I appreciate that Mele made her protagonist mentally ill.

One of my favorite stories in the collection was The Weepers and Washer-Women of Lake Lomond by Madeline Dyer (the editor of the anthology), though I think the story would have worked better if it was a full-length novel. It was like I was being served this amazing meal, but I had to shove it in my mouth in five minutes when I really wanted to savor it. It didn’t necessarily feel rushed, I just think I would have enjoyed it more if I had had more time with the characters, the setting, and the lore because it was all so great! In the story the protagonist, Bianca, who has multiple disabilities including Ehlers-Danlos, POTS, and MCAS, is pretending to be her twin sister, Remi, so she can take part in the World Kickboxing Championship on the island of Loch Lomond. Bianca is convinced the island had something to do with the death or their cousin, Mari, who competed on Loch Lomond a ten years prior. Remi’s boyfriend, Blake, does not think this is a good idea, but Bianca, who hates being treated like she’s “broken,” is determined. She’s thought of everything; Remi faked an injury months ago to explain away Bianca’s crutches. The competition takes place in pitch dark, the organizers claiming that it’s to make it more fair for blind and low-vision competitors (a blind girl won the championship last time), so no one will see Bianca using a mobility aid. And she only needs to stay in the competition long enough to find out what happened to Mari, so Bianca doesn’t necessarily have to win her first match.

I can understand Blake’s hesitation to help Bianca go through with her plan, because at first, I thought Bianca was foolish to try and pretend to be her sister. While both sister’s have Ehlers-Danlos, Remi only got stretchy joints, while Bianca got the whole shebang that can come with the condition. How would Bianca be able to compete in such a physically demanding competition? And immediately after arriving on the island,things start to go wrong. There’s no food that Bianca can safely eat, and the training masters confiscate her medication and medical drinks claiming it will give her an “unfair advantage.” Dizzy with fatigue and illness she tries to bow out of the championship, but is forced to compete. And when she enters the dark arena, the training master takes Bianca’s crutches. Worst of all, her opponent doesn’t seem quite human. I thought she was guaranteed to be monster chow. But then her disability ends up being the reason she survives. *spoiler* Because Bianca’s crutches (presumably made of durable steel, which contains iron) can hurt her adversaries. As Bianca says at the end of the story “I’m Bianca. And that’s how I’m alive. Because I’m disabled. Because I need mobility aids. Because I fought with my crutch.” *spoiler ends* I absolutely love this twist. Disabilities are often to assumed to be a “weakness” but it ends up being Bianca’s strength.

Three of the stories used the second person point of view, which is when the story addresses the reader directly using the pronoun “you” when describing the protagonists’ actions (i.e. you shook in fear when faced with the monster from your dreams). This is a tricky to do, and doesn’t always work well, as you’re basically telling the reader what they’re doing and feeling. But it’s also more intimate and the reader gets a greater feel for what the protagonist is going through. I liked that some of the authors used this for their storytelling. It gives  you more of a feel for what it’s was like living with a specific disability.

While not all the stories in the collection were as strong as others, I think this is a solid anthology. It was great to both see myself in characters and learn about different types of disabilities, as there’s so much variation. I also love that the stories defied stereotypes like disabled people not being worthy of love, or mentally ill people being dangerous. The only thing that surprised me was that there were no stories by authors who were blind, low vision, or Deaf/deaf, and there was only one story with a character who used a wheelchair. Perhaps Madeline Dyer wanted to focus on disabilities which don’t get as much media attention or she simply wasn’t able to get authors to represent those disabilities. This isn’t really a criticism, just something that surprised me. Perhaps I just need to reexamine my own biases when it comes to disabilities.

Tags: ADHD, Agender, agoraphobia, Anthology, Anxiety Disorder, Autism, BIPOC, Biracial, Bisexual, Body Horror, Book Review, Cane user, Celiac Disease, Chronic Pain, Crohn’s disease, Demon, diabetes, Disability, Down syndrome, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, Haitian, Historic Horror, LGBTQIA, MCAS, Monster, Myths and Folklore, Neurodiversity, neurofibromatosis, Non-binary, Own Voices, POTS, PTSD, Romance, Substance Use Disorder, Trans, vampire, Wheelchair user, Young Adult
On Sunday She Picked Flowers by Yah Yah Scholfield

On Sunday She Picked Flowers by Yah Yah Scholfield

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Saga Press

Genre: Gothic, Historic Horror, Werebeast

Audience: Adult

Diversity: Black characters and author, Queer main character and author

Takes Place in: Georgia, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Body Shaming, Cannibalism, Child Death, Childbirth, Death, Gore, Homophobia, Incest, Miscarriage, Physical Abuse, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Vomit

Blurb

When Judith Rice fled her childhood home, she thought she’d severed her abusive mother’s hold on her. She didn’t have a plan or destination, just a desperate need to escape. Drawn to the forests of southern Georgia, Jude finds shelter in a house as haunted by its violent history as she is by her own.

Jude embraces the eccentricities of the dilapidated house, soothing its ghosts and haints, honoring its blood-soaked land. And over the next thirteen years, Jude blossoms from her bitter beginnings into a wisewoman, a healer.

But her hard-won peace is threatened when an enigmatic woman shows up on her doorstep. The woman is beautiful but unsettling, captivating but uncanny. Ensnared by her desire for this stranger, Jude is caught off guard by brutal urges suddenly simmering beneath her skin. As the woman stirs up memories of her escape years ago, Jude must confront the calls of violence rooted in her bloodline.

Haunting and thought-provoking, On Sunday She Picked Flowers explores retribution, family trauma, and the power of building oneself back up after breaking down.

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

Jude (short for Judith) does what I’m sure many women have dreamed of doing. After killing her abuser she runs away from her terrible life to live alone in a haunted house in the forest where she becomes a wisewoman/healer and takes a mysterious lover who may or not be a beast. On Sunday She Picked Flowers reads like a Southern Gothic fairytale, if “Once Upon a Time” were 1965 and “a land far away” was Georgia. This is not a pretty story with a pure, fair maiden who is rescued from her miserable life. Instead, our heroine, 41-year-old Jude, is described as “too fat, too Black, too tall, and too damn ugly” (at least by her teachers and classmates) and is forced to save herself from her wicked mother and the curse of transgenerational trauma.

Jude has lived with her abusive, religious mother for her entire life. She doesn’t understand why her mother, whom she calls Ma’am, hates her so much, only that she does. Ma’am will beat her daughter for the smallest offense then turn around and act like nothing happened (this is known as the cycle of abuse). Her two aunts, Phyillis and Vivian, tell Jude it’s her own fault she’s abused for being “difficult” and she should be grateful for all her mother has sacrificed for her.

Jude keeps a packed bag and a tin of money hidden under her bed so she can leave one day. She’s tried to run away before but people in the town always bring her back. Eventually Jude realizes the only way she’ll ever be free is to kill her mother. One night Jude is making dinner when Ma’am announces she found the packed bag under Jude’s bed. Ma’am tried to guilt trip Jude before telling her daughter that she’ll never let her leave. Something snaps in Jude and she starts hitting her mother and the two end up on the floor. Ma’am tries to strangle her but Jude grabs a meat cleaver on the floor and buries it in her mother’s face. She attempts to call her aunt Phyllis for help and to confess what she’s done, the only one of Ma’am’s two sisters who might show her compassion, but is rebuffed. Realizing she can’t stay in that house Jude runs away and ends up in an abandoned haunted house in the middle of the woods that she names Candle.

In many ways transgenerational trauma can feel like a family curse that passes from parent to child. The controversial field of epigenetics claims that trauma can change your DNA to the point that it’s passed down genetically to your offspring, with descendants of Holocaust survivors, Residential School Survivors, and enslaved Africans continuing to experience the symptoms of trauma (depression, anxiety, substance misuse, etc.). Dr. Joy DeGruy, who holds advanced degrees in both clinical psychology and social work research, came up with the term “post traumatic slave syndrome” to describe the transgenerational trauma experienced by African Americans as a result of the Atlantic slave trade, in addition continued discrimination in the present day. While the American Psychological Association (APA) awarded Dr. DeGruy a Presidential Citation in 2023 her theory is not without its critics. Dr. Ibram X. Kendi, a historian and anti-racism scholar, argues that the idea of post traumatic slave syndrome is itself racist as it implies that Black people are inherently dysfunctional as a group.

Some studies have shown that when someone experiences abuse as a child and is unable to learn healthy coping methods, they are more likely to abuse their own children, with one study stating that abuse and neglect victims are three times more likely to be abusive themselves. Rates of domestic violence are higher in the Black community, with Black women at the greatest risk, most likely due to a combination of racism and poverty. Black parents also have a complex relationship with the corporal punishment of children, especially in the South. When my siblings and I were little my Black grandmother thought it was very amusing that my white mother didn’t believe in spanking, and joked about how the beatings she gave my aunt and father would get her sent to prison now.

But she did what she did to protect them from something worse. She knew white people would use any excuse to hurt, arrest, or even kill a Black person, even if they were a child so Black children had to always be obedient if they wanted to survive. They did not have the same opportunities as white children to make youthful mistakes. Child advocate Dr. Stacey Patton, who is herself a child abuse survivor, explained in an interview with Ebony that “People think that hitting a child is a form of teaching. We think it will protect them.” In another interview with the Touré Show podcast  Dr. Patton stated “There was this idea that ‘Well if I beat you, you’re gonna be alive at the end of the day, whereas if the Klan gets their hands on you, you’re dead’… And so we fast forward to this century, and you have Black people saying, ‘If I don’t beat my child, then the police will kill them.’” Of course, the belief that all Black parents are inherently abusive or “bad” parents is rooted in racism.

Ma’am was horribly abused by her own father, and ended up taking her pain out on her daughter. Jude’s beatings were treated as acceptable “punishments” by her aunts who had been beaten similarly as children. But this does NOT mean that an abused child is guaranteed to be abusive themselves. Jude is able to break free and learns to love herself and that she’s more than what was done to her, just as many Black parents today are moving away from “tough love” and embracing gentle parenting. In fact, corporal punishment is quickly falling out of favor in the Black community.

Scholfield’s prose is gorgeous, one my favorite lines in the book is, “Jude entered the verdant maw of the woods, past its bark teeth and down its mossy throat, down into its humid green bowels.” What a great description, both foreboding and beautiful. It’s also a perfect example of the book’s reoccurring theme of transformation as Jude leaves civilization behind and enters the enchanted world of the forest (appropriate, as the forest has long been a metaphor for transformation in both fairytales and folklore). Ma’am prefers nature small and tamable because she had too much of it as a child working on a plantation (one of the reasons my grandmother left Tennessee and moved to Chicago) and four generations of Ma’am’s family slaved away on a plantation, even after emancipation. But Jude loves the beauty of nature and its wildness, and is willing to work the land if she’s working it for herself and not another. For in the forest, she is truly free.

Judediscovers safety and strength in her solitude, that is until she meets Nemoira, a strange and beautiful woman who enters Candle and immediately makes herself at home. Jude falls hard and fast for the mysterious Nemoira, who may or may not be the beast that’s been leaving meat on her doorstep. Their relationship reminds me of classic stories like Bluebeard, Tsuru no Ongaeshi (Crane’s Return of a Favor), and Beauty and the Beast. I loved that this book was about an older woman rather than a 20-something. Of course there’s nothing wrong with younger heroines, but it can get repetitive always reading about women half my age in books supposedly aimed at adults. It’s easy to find older men in media, but creators seem afraid to make their women older than 30 or so. Jude, on the other hand, starts the story out at 41 and is in her sixties by the end of it. She’s also able to change and develop as a character despite being older. It’s wonderful to watch Jude go from terrified and helpless to fearless and self-sufficient over the course of the story. Best of all, she gets to have a romance and hot sex! Media makes it seem like women stop having sex the minute they hit 40, but while age can change how you have sex, older adults are still sexually active. So it’s nice to see that represented here and not treated as a punchline or something gross.

This was an achingly beautiful and haunting story. Despite its supernatural and fairy tale-like elements, the book’s depictions of abuse are still realistic. I appreciated how Scholfield humanizes Ma’am without excusing her abuse of Judith. Ma’am’s treatment of her daughter is inexcusable, even though Judith is not a “perfect victim” (a harmful myth that often prevents abuse survivors from getting help). Judith’s relationship with Nemoira is similarly complex, with Judith trying to love a monster without herself becoming monstrous and learning to stand up for herself. Scholfield’s descriptions are lush: you can practically see, smell, and hear the forest. On Sunday She Picked Flowers feels like in takes place in a liminal space between fantasy and cold reality, the “real” world, and the world of the forest. While reading it, I always felt like I was just on the edge of a dream.

Tags: Adult, African American, BIPOC, Black, Gothic, Historic Horror, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Own Voices, Werebeast
The Villa, Once Beloved by Victor Manibo

The Villa, Once Beloved by Victor Manibo

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Erewhon Books

Genre: Gothic, Myth and Folklore

Audience: Adult

Diversity: Filipino author and characters, Gay author and character, non-binary side character

Takes Place in: The Philippines

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Child Abuse, Classism, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Homophobia, Illness, Incest, Miscarriage, Mental Illness, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Slurs, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Victim Blaming, Violence, Vomit

Blurb

Some legacies are best left buried…

Villa Sepulveda is a storied relic of the Philippines’ past: a Spanish colonial manor, its moldering stonework filled with centuries-old heirlooms, nestled in a remote coconut plantation. When their patriarch dies mysteriously, his far-flung family returns to their ancestral home. Filipino-American student Adrian Sepulveda invites his college girlfriend, Sophie, a transracial adoptee who knows little about her own Filipino heritage, to the funeral of a man who was entwined with the history of the country itself.

Sophie soon learns that there is more to the Sepulvedas than a grand tradition of political and entrepreneurial success. Adrian’s relatives clash viciously amid grief, confusion, and questions about the family curse that their matriarch refuses to answer. When a landslide traps them all in the villa, secrets begin to emerge, revealing sins both intimately personal and unthinkably public.

Sifting through fact, folklore, and fiction, Sophie finds herself at the center of a reckoning. Did a mythical demon really kill Adrian’s grandfather? How complicit are the Sepulvedas in the country’s oppressive history? As a series of ill omens befall the villa, Sophie must decide whom to trust—and whom to flee—before the family’s true legacy comes to take its revenge . . .

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

The Villa, Once Beloved is a modern gothic horror story set in the Philippines about the terrible crimes people will commit to obtain and maintain wealth and power. The story is tied to its setting, with the history of colonialism and political corruption in the Philippines playing an integral role in the plot. 

Don Raul Sepulveda, the wealthy patriarch of the Sepulveda family, has decided his deceased family members need to be moved to a grand mausoleum. He attempts to build the mausoleum himself, despite his advanced age, after firing all the builders because they kept telling him his vision was impossible. Raul believes his family’s grand tomb must be finished quickly because death is coming for him, and is proven correct when he dies that night after seeing a terrifying specter in the jungle: a pale, faceless woman. His wife, Doña Olympia finds Raul’s crushed body in his bed the next day, his hands covered in dirt. 

A few days later, a college student named Sophie is flying to the Philippines in a luxurious private jet with her boyfriend, Adrian, to visit his family. It’s her first time on an airplane and her first time out of the country. They’re flying to the Philippines for the funeral of Don Raul, Adrian’s grandfather. Sophie may be Filipino but she was raised by a white, working-class couple on a farm in Nebraska, making her feel like an outsider. While Sophie is worried that she may be intruding on the Sepulveda’s family’s private grief, she’s happy she can support Adrian in his time of need.  

Sophie loves her boyfriend because of his “boundless and innocent optimism” and his ability to talk about his feelings and have tough conversations.  He lavishes her with praise, unlike her adoptive parents, who don’t give her a lot of positive affirmation. Adrian cares deeply about his family and country, and has been educating Sophie about the Philippines: its history, culture, and what it means to be Filipino. Maybe I just distrust straight cis men, but Adrian seemed too good to be true. There weren’t exactly any red flags, but something about him felt off. Yellow flags, if you will. He never brings Sophie to his family’s home, despite it being only an hour from campus, and I got the sense a lot of his activism was performative. And the way he educates Sophie about the Philippines felt  condescending. Sophie loves it;she describes it as “very My Fair Lady. Sophie was clay ready to be molded, a Filipina Eliza Doolittle who somehow needed to be more Filipina, and Adrian was happy to be Henry Higgins.” But if  you remember the film  (or the George Bernard Shaw play it was based on) Henry Higgins was a misogynistic jerk to Eliza Doolittle.

Adrian is planning to make a documentary about his family and their ties to the Marcos, a major political family in the Philippines. The Sepulvedas are related to the Marcos through Imelda Romualdez Marcos, the former First Lady of the Philippines. She was the wife of former president Ferdinand Emmanuel Edralin Marcos, Sr., and mother of the current president of the Philippines, Ferdinand “Bongbong” Romualdez Marcos, Jr. Ferdinand was a kleptocrat who ruled as a dictator from 1965-1986, committed numerous human rights violations, and kept the Philippines under martial law in the ‘70s. Adrian hates the Marcos with a passion, even going so far as to organize a protest at Standford University when Bongbong visited the Bay Area. When his grandmother Olympia announces that the current president and his mother will likely be guests at Raul’s funeral, Adrian is horrified.

Adrian’s family has been in the Philippines since before the diocese, and own a large coconut plantation. Their villa was built nearly 200 years ago by Señor Bartolome Sepúlveda as a summer retreat for his reclusive wife Dorotea to hide her from the attention of other men (or to hide her from society after she went mad from homesickness). They were Spanish aristocrats who had fallen on hard times and moved to the Spanish East Indies attracting by Manila’s growing wealth after the Spanish crown took control and turned it into a major trading port. Their son Oscar saved the Sepulveda fortune, by starting the coconut plantation. He married Mercedes, an indio (which his father didn’t approve of). They had seven sons and one daughter, Soledad, who was married off to a member of the Marcos family.

Claudio, the oldest son of Oscar and Mercedes, is Divina and Raul’s father. He was born in 1929, after the Philippines had been sold to America. Claudio, as a US national, served in the US army and fought in WWII during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines under General Douglas MacArthur. Claudio became a general himself, and a war hero, and chose to marry Elisea Jimenez because she was an heiress. He cheated on her multiple times, and may or may not have fathered children with other women. Elisea was the power behind the throne. She prevented Claudio’s siblings from ousting him from the company and it was her idea to expand into the international coconut trade in the sixties, selling lumber, coconut wine, and coconut oil. The coconut oil was especially popular with their US partners, and is still used in major cosmetics brands. 

But then the Sepulveda family’s fortunes turned. In 1985 there was a worker’s strike at the Sepulveda’s plantation due to Marcos’ Coco Levy Fund Scam. A few days after that typhoon Saling (aka Typhoon Dot) struck, resulting in landslides that destroyed the countryside. Then malaria struck the town. There were crocodile attacks after that, then swarms of beetles that destroyed crops. Finally, a warehouse collapsed, killing several workers including Raul’s brother-in-law. When Raul’s father died suddenly of an aneurysm, Raul decided to flee to the states with his wife and young sons (Kai was not yet born), hoping to escape the curse. He left behind his newly widowed sister Divina to care for the villa and the coconut plantation.

Joining Adrian and Sophie at the villa are his parents Eric and Margot, his uncle Javier, his grandmother Olympia, his great aunt Divina, and some servants including the caretaker Remidios. Adrian’s auncle (a gender-neutral term for a parent’s sibling) Kai joins them later, barely making it to the villa because of the typhoon that strikes the Philippines. If you’re as bad at remembering names as I am, I would definitely recommend keeping a list of the characters because there are A LOT. Keeping track of the living family was one thing, but throw in all the ancestors on top of that and I started having trouble keeping track of who was who.

The book is told in third person limited tense, with Sophie acting as the main protagonist and audience surrogate who, while Filipino, is also an outsider and new to the culture and history. We also learn more about the family’s history through Adrian’s interviews with Divina for his documentary. Javier and Remidios serve as the deuteragonist and tritagonist of the story, giving the reader more of an insider’s view of the Sepulveda family. Javier and Remidios are both more cynical than the naïve Sophie who is just happy to be included. Javier is disappointed to discover his old home is not as grand as he remembered, instead finding it cramped and ill preserved whereas Sophie is in awe of the villa, highlighting their very different upbringings. Remidios has a less than charitable opinion of Sophie in the beginning (though she does warm up to her) and it’s interesting to see the protagonist, who is so often praised by Adrian, looked down upon by another character. Sophie is also the character who is most disturbed by what’s happening and becomes increasingly distraught as the story continues, growing paranoid and isolating herself from the rest of the family.

This is a slow burn horror book, which admittedly, I’m not usually a fan of. Things don’t start to getexciting until halfway through, when one of the family’s biggest secrets is finally revealed. The first half of the story is mostly getting to know the characters and their history, and I feel like it could have used more horror and foreboding. But of course, that’s just my personal preference.People with more patience than me will have a completely different reading experience. I did really enjoy learning about Filippino history and I liked how Manibo used real events and tied them into the story, like Typhoon Dot and the Coco Levy Fund Scam. I also liked how it isn’t revealed whether supernatural factors are at play until the very end. The reader is left to wonder if Raul was really killed by a batibat (a sort of Filipino sleep paralysis demon that can cause sudden, unexplained deaths) during a bangungot as Remidios claims, or whether the monster he saw was merely an apparition brought on by his madness. And is the string of disasters surrounding the family the work of a curse or merely bad luck?

Despite the villa’s size there’s a feeling of claustrophobia due to its isolation. The typhoon knocks out the internet, phone services, and roads making it impossible to reach anyone outside the villa. Because the villa is in a secluded area, it’s unlikely anyone will come to the aid of those trapped there by the landslides, despite Olympia’s insistence that everyone will come for her late husband’s funeral. Manibo is excellent at creating a gothic atmosphere, and, despite so many characters, each has their own unique perspective and personality, making them stand out. A must read if you’re a fan of the gothic.

 

Tags: Adult, Asian, BIPOC, Book Review, Filipino, Gay, Gothic, LGBTQIA, Myths and Folklore, Non-binary, Own Voices

Antenora by Dori Lumpkin

Antenora by Dori Lumpkin. Highly Recommended. Read if you like relgious horror.

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Creature Publishing

Genre: Myth and Folklore, Psychological Horror

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Non-binary author, queer women main characters

Takes Place in: Alabama

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Death, Gore, Illness, Suicide, Relgious Abuse, Slut-Shaming Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

Antenora: Dante’s ninth circle of hell reserved for traitors to their country. What really happened to Nora Willet? The religious community of Bethel, Alabama can’t agree on the truth. They always said she was trouble. Later, they said she was possessed. Maybe she lost her mind, killing three people and injuring many others. In a part confessional, part plea for Nora to come home, Nora’s childhood friend Abigail Barnes tells of another girl’s gruesome eighteenth birthday, of the time Nora may have fully revived a snake, of the intimacy of their private encounters at the lakeside, of Nora’s deliverance ceremony. Where, Abigail wonders, is Nora now? In this tender and horrific debut, religious dogmatism sniffs out two girls whose innocent affections threaten an entire town and way of life, making one a traitor to a homeland in which only Abigail and Nora know the bittersweet truth. A homeland in which Nora can only say, “There’s a snake speaking to me, Abby-girl.”

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

Nora and Abigail are best friends who live in the small town of Bethel, an insular religious community in Alabama surrounded by mountains. The girls have been inseparable since they were seven, despite their differences. Abigial is a “good girl,” quiet, Godly, and submissive like the town expects women to behave. But Nora is the opposite–opinionated, strong, and brave–which angers the people of Bethel and the town leader, pastor David. But what makes the rest of the town hate her is what draws Abigail to Nora, and the reason she’s secretly in love with her.

The two are attending the 18th birthday party for their classmate Leah, who is displeased Nora is there. Turning 18 is a big deal for girls in Bethel because it’s the age they’re allowed to get married, and most girls find a husband shortly after high school graduation. Nora knows Leah doesn’t like her, so when Leah is seated at the head of the table being presented with her birthday cake, Nora grabs a fistful of Leah’s hair and slams her face-first into the table, ripping the hair from her scalp and breaking Leah’s nose. While Nora feigns remorse, Abigail can tell it’s just for show.

Later, Nora releases a baby copperhead in church. While copperhead venom isn’t particularly potent and rarely fatal, somehow both the bite victims die quickly and painfully. When the baby copperhead returns to a grinning Nora who kisses it on its snout., that’s the moment the church decides she’s possessed by a demon.

The whole story is steeped in symbolism. The title of the book is taken from Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy, a famous Italian poem written in the early 1300s. The Divine Comedy is a first-person narrative told from Dante’s perspective about his journey through the realms of Hell (Inferno), Purgatory (Purgatorio), and Heaven (Paradiso). The first, and perhaps most famous part of the poem, is dedicated to the nine circles of Hell where Dante is guided by the ancient Roman poet Virgil. Located in the Ninth Circle is the Cocytus, a large frozen lake filled with sinners guilty of treachery. The lake is divided into four concentric rings, or rounds, with the further rings reserved for the most serious betrayals. The second ring, Antenora, is dedicated to traitors of their country. This ring gets its name from Antenor, a Trojan elder who betrayed the Troy to the Greeks. With the exception of Abigail, the citizens of Bethel see Nora as a traitor to their town. But Nora sees the town as her prison, like the frozen Cocytus.

An balck and white engraving by Gustave Dore. Dante is holding the head of Bocca degli Abati, a traitorous Guelph of Florence who is frozen in the Cocytus. The Roman poet Virgil watches on next to Dante. They are standing on a frozen lake in which various people are frozen up to their necks. Their is a pile of frozen bodies next to the two men.

Antenora, located in the ninth circle of hell, is the second section of the lake of Cocytus where traitors to their homeland are punished. Artwork by Gustave Doré (1832-1883), Illustration 32 of the Divine Comedy.

Snake imagery comes up multiple times in Antenora. When Nora gets a bad idea in her head, she’ll tell Abigail “There’s a snake speaking to me, Abby-girl.” One of the few times Nora cries is when she and Abigail find a dead baby copperhead in the woods which then miraculously comes back to life in her hands (implied to be the one Nora releases in the church). And of course, there are the snakes that David’s brother Caleb handles as part of their Sunday church service. Snake handling is a religious rite practiced by some rural Pentecostals which was popularized by George Hensely in early 20th century Appalachia and continues to this day. Hensley believed that snake handling was commanded by God due to the following bible passage: “And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; They shall take up serpents…” (Mark 16:17-18 KJV) Unsurprisingly Hensely died of a snake bite in 1955 at the age of 74 after refusing to seek medical treatment. The most famous snake in the Abrahamic religions is the one from the creation myth that lived in the Garden of Eden. The snake tempts Eve, who later offers the fruit to Adam, to eat fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and is subsequently punished by God who curses it to crawl on its belly.

A black and white photo of two dark-haired white men holding a large snake in the air. Both men are wearing white button down shirts and dark pants. One of the men has only a right arm, the sleeve for his left arm is tucked into his pants. A crowd watches on and plays the cymbals. They are all inside s small building.

Photo taken in 1946 by Russell Lee at the Church of God with Signs Following in Harlan County, Kentucky.

A serpent is also used to represent the dragon in the Book of Revelation who battles the Archangel Michael. The snake in Eden is similar to Nora’s idea that a snake is speaking to her before she does something “sinful.” But, not all snakes in the bible are evil. God turns Moses’ staff into a serpent to prove he’s been chosen to lead his people out of slavery. Later, in his journey though the desert with those he has freed, Moses mounts a bronze serpent on a pole to act a cure against the bite of the “burning serpents” sent by God as punishment. Like Moses’ bronze snake charms has similarities to the Rod of Asclepius, a staff entwined by a snake wielded by Asclepius, the Greek god of healing and medicine. The symbol is still used to this day as a symbol of Medicine, and can be seen on the flag for the World Health Organization. Snakes can also represent rebirth due to their ability to shed their skin, as is seen with Nora’s baby copperhead. This is perhaps best represented by the ouroboros devouring its own tail. Other examples of snakes in word mythology include Níðhöggr, a serpent/dragon in Norse myth who resides in Niflheim and gnaws on the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree and the Vision Serpent, an important figure in early Mayan mythology who connected the spiritual and earthly planes that was also associated with a World Tree.

Ningishzida is a Mesopotamian serpent deity of vegetation and the underworld. Rainbow snake is a creator god in the Aboriginal Australian religion. Similarly, Damballa the sky father and creator of all life in Vodou is often depicted as a white or rainbow serpent. His mate, Ayida-Weddo, is a rainbow snake who represents fertility. Vasuki is the king of the nagas in Hinduism and is often depicted coiled around the neck of Shiva, one of the major Hindu deities and god of destruction and creation. As seen in these examples, snakes can be a destructive force like Níðhöggr, a creator like Damballa, or both, like the god Shiva. Nora is seen as a destructive force by her community, like the serpent in revelations, which leads David to the decision that she must be “delivered” a.k.a exorcised.

A Renaissance painting of Eve from the creation story in the Bible. Behind her lies a deer. Eve is surrounded by foliage including a stray branch covering her vulva. Eve is holding the branch of a fruit tree above her head. In her other hand she holds a piece of fruit with a bite taken from it. Above her the snake is coiled around a branch watching her.

Eve by Lucas Cranach the Elder from the Art Institute of Chicago

While it’s unclear whether Nora is a victim of demons (the snake that speaks to her) or merely a mentally unwell girl with behavioral issues who needs actual help rather than religious abuse, Abigail is inclined to lean towards the latter. Abigial states “Possession is a funny thing, right, because technically, it is a mental health issue that can be diagnosed. Your mind has been damaged far past the Lord’s control, and the demons have been let in. Whether you are or aren’t actually possessed, you at the very least have to believe that you are, and therein lies the problem.” While exorcisms are fun in fiction, in real life they’re usually being used in the place of medical treatment for those struggling with mental health or behavioral issues and can lead to tragic results.

Children seem to be the most common victims of exorcisms gone wrong. (Content Warning: Discussion of child abuse and murders) Police had to use stun guns to subdue Ronald Marquez after he was found strangling his young granddaughter in an attempted exorcism. He was later pronounced dead in the hospital. While the girl survived, other children weren’t so lucky. A similar case occurred at a small Pentecostal church is San Jose California. The grandfather of the girl, Rene Trigueros-Hernandez, attempted an exorcism on her at her mother’s request which resulted in 3-year-old Arely Naomi Proctor dying of asphyxiation. In 2003, an 8-year-old boy in Milwaukee, whose autism was blamed on demonic possession, was killed during an exorcism where he was wrapped tightly in sheets. Almost a decade later, Eder Guzman-Rodriguez beat his 2-year-old daughter to death in an attempted exorcism. Most recently a 6-year-old Florida boy was found dead by authorities after his mother tried to perform an exorcism. (End of content warning) It’s no wonder Nora fears her deliverance.

I’ve always found horror that explores the corruption of fundamentalist Christianity to be especially creepy. Maybe it’s because of the rampant abuse that can be found in extreme religious groups that demand obedience and conformity. There are so many stories online of  Child abuse (“sparing the rod”), sexual abuse (purity culture is rape culture), emotional abuse, etc. from survivors dealing  with lasting trauma. There’s also the fact that something that’s supposed to bring comfort, religion, can be twisted and perverted until it becomes something that hurts rather than heals. Or maybe it’s the horror of witnessing what the extreme Christian right is doing to our country right now.

It’s unclear when the story takes place. It could be a modern story with no mention of technology, or it take place in the early 20th century when snake handling first rose to popularity. The only hint we get is the church air conditioning (with the portable window unit invented in 1931). I like the vague setting, as it makes the story feel timeless while also emphasizing how the town of Bethel is trapped in time, cut off from the outside (secular) world.

In the story, Abigail mentions how girls are expected to “keep sweet.” If you’ve never heard the expression before “Keep sweet, pray, and obey,” was originally coined by Rulon Jeffs, the 5th president of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It’s meant to describe how women in the church are expected to behave. The motto because popularized by the Netflix series of the same name, a four-part docuseries released in 2022 about the survivors of the FLDS church. It’s current leader, Warren S. Jeffs is serving a life sense in Texas for child sexual assault and marrying underage girls. While girls in Bethel aren’t allowed to get married until they turn 18 (the age was 16 until the state got involved) they’re still expected to submit to David’s will and not complain or express negative emotions. It’s incredibly creepy, much more so than the random acts of violence committed throughout the book. Probably because religious abuse is still so prevalent in the US.

Elise Heerde, a counsellor who specializes in religious trauma wrote the following on the blog, Tears of Eden

“For as long as I can remember, obedience was the measure of my worth. To be good, to be faithful, to be worthy of love. These were tied to how well I conformed, how much I suppressed, and how seamlessly I fit within the rigid structures of evangelical Christianity. But that obedience came at a cost. It wasn’t just about following rules; it was about erasing myself.”

Antenora is, at its heart, a tragic love story between two girls who never got to fully explore their feelings for one another because of the repressive religious community they’re trapped in. We see how girls, especially girls who don’t conform, are mistreated by conservative religious communities.

Tags: Book Review, Highly Recommended, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Myths and Folklore, Non-binary, Psychological Horror, Queer, Young Adult

They Bloom at Night by Trang Thanh Tran

They Bloom at NIght by by Trang Thanh Tran. Recommended. Read if you like oceanic horror, found family.

 

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Bloomsbury

Genre: Body Horror, Eco Horror

Audience: Print, audio, digital

Diversity: Lesbian, transgender, and gay characters, non-binary author, Vietnamese Author and main characters

Takes Place in: Louisiana

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Animal Cruelty, Death, Homophobia, Pedophilia, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

A red algae bloom has taken over Mercy, Louisiana. Ever since a devastating hurricane, mutated wildlife lurks in the water that rises by the day. But Mercy has always been a place where monsters walk in plain sight. Especially at its heart: The Cove, where Noon’s life was upended long before the storm at a party her older boyfriend insisted on.

Now, Noon is stuck navigating the submerged town with her mom, who believes their dead family has reincarnated as sea creatures. Alone with the pain of what happened that night at the cove, Noon buries the truth: she is not the right shape.

When Mercy’s predatory leader demands Noon and her mom capture the creature drowning residents, she reluctantly finds an ally in his deadly hunter of a daughter and friends old and new. As the next storm approaches, Noon must confront the past and decide if it’s time to answer the monster itching at her skin.

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

They Bloom at Night is a queer, coming of age, environmental horror story. What at first appears to be a classic tale of “Man vs Nature,” quickly shifts to show that“monster” and environment are not the main antagonists, so much as the greedy human, and, to an extent, the environmental destruction caused by humans.

Since Hurricane Arlene destroyed the town of Mercy, Louisiana two years ago, a red algae bloom on the Mississippi River has become the longest-lasting known to humans. The algae have made fishing difficult for the teenaged Noon (real name Nhung, but most white people can’t pronounce that) and her mother, Tien. The two women have taken over fishing after the disappearance of Noon’s brother and father, who Tien believes are either still alive or have been reincarnated as sea animals and are waiting for rescue out there somewhere. Their family has a guardian water spirit, named Sông, who Noon sees as little more than superstition. Sông is said to have kept her father’s family safe as they made their perilous journey from Vietnam to the United States by sea, and Sông is the reason Tien is convinced that her husband and son are still out there.

Even though, both have likely drowned, Noon’s mother insists they must stay in Mercy to find them, despite her daughter’s desperation to leave the small town. Mercy holds nothing but bad memories for Noon. After her brother, Jaylen, was born, her parents began to ignore her and favor their son. Their home was all but destroyed by Hurricane Arlene. Noon has never felt welcomed among the racist, sexist town folks who hurl jeers at her and her mother when they dock their boat. Loan Shark and businessman Jimmy, the man who controls most of the town through money and fear, still owns their boat and demands Noon and Tien bring him strange, mutated sea life to sell. And Noon was sexually assaulted at Mercy’s Cove by an older boy who had groomed her. When her mother found her, Noon’s hair had turned white and her skin was flaking off. Her body continues to change, her fingernails all fall out and she can only digest raw meat.

When Noon and Tien get to the dock, a girl named Covey who seems to be overseeing things says they must go see her father, who is revealed to be Jimmy. Jimmy explains he wants them to look for a sea monster. People around Mercy have been disappearing, most recently a government scientist studying the algae bloom named Dr. Lucía Delgado. The government wants to close the fishing season early and possibly designate the whole area a disaster zone, and Jimmy can’t have that. He orders Noon and Tien to find whatever creature is causing the disappearances and bring it back to him in three weeks’ time. He informs them that Covey will be accompanying them on their mission. After Tien becomes ill from a rusty nail injury she receives from Jimmy, the two teens are forced to work together to find Jimmy’s monster. A tense relationship between Covey and Noon slowly blossoms into friendship and then into something more as they race to solve the mysterious disappearances and face their own trauma. On their journey Noon reconnects with her old friend, Wilder, who has run away from home, and meets Saffy, who was kicked out of her home after her parents discovered she was transgender.

The hurricane that nearly destroys Mercy has clear parallels to Hurricane Katrina, the 2005 hurricane that decimated New Orleans and caused nearly 1,000 fatalities. Noon refers to her life after Hurricane Arlene as post-Apocalyptic, even though everything is business as usual outside Louisiana. Mercy has some electricity and running water, but it’s unreliable at best. A Rolling Stone article about Hurricane Katrina entitled it Apocalypse in New Orleans. Vanity Fair has one called Hell and High Water: American Apocalypse. Noon explains that politicians think the people who chose to stay in Mercy deserve what they got. A research paper entitled System Justification in Responding to the Poor and Displaced in the Aftermath of Hurricane Katrina states

“One sentiment that took hold following Katrina was that those who lived in New Orleans were at fault for having chosen to live there in the first place, and for not having evacuated when the officials issued a mandate. Some went so far as to ask why people would choose to live in a city that lies beneath sea level. Talk show hosts and local newspapers blamed victims and asked why the government was obligated to help those who did not evacuate.”

Two men paddle in high water in the Ninth Ward after Hurricane Katrina.

A photo of the Ninth Ward after Hurricane Katrina. Mario Tama/Getty Images

Besides environmental disaster, one of the major themes of the books is the fraught relationship between parents and their children. Noon states “…the people who hurt us most, who forced us here, have been those responsible for our care.” Saffy’s parents forced her to choose between being her authentic self or living with them and pretending to be a boy. Similarly, Wilder runs away from home because his parents want him to be something he’s not. Because boys are more highly valued then girls, an effeminate boy is a disappointment, and Wilder simply couldn’t continue to fit his parents’ idea of what a man should be. Noon is also a victim of toxic masculinity, and is treated as having less value than her brother Jaylen. Even after her brother and father go missing, presumed dead, her mother continues to place a higher importance on them than her living daughter.

I appreciate that, while all the parents had problems, the Asian parents at least seemed to love their children, and were doing their best while burdened with generational trauma and a traditionally sexist culture. Tran is able to challenge the sexism in Vietnamese culture while also making clear that sexism and bad parenting isn’t exclusive to Asians. Wilder has a tense relationship with his parents who are uncomfortable with his bisexuality and even pressure him to be more manly. But at least they don’t disown him like Saffy’s parents do. There’s at least some hope Wilder will one day be able to reconcile with his mom and dad. Jimmy, on the other hand, is completely irredeemable, not just as person but as a parent. Noon says “Like so many parents Jimmy thinks his daughter is only fit for his hopes. But when we inherit those, we also inherit the mistakes. We are the ones to live with the consequences. Every generation before had a semblance of a chance, but we have the end of the world.” He sees Covey only as an extension of himself, just another tool on his belt. Tien at least tries to be a good mother to Noon, trying to protect her, singing her to sleep at night, and performing Cao gio (coining) to relieve her headaches.

I also liked all the random facts about ocean animals strewn throughout the book. Noon is a huge nerd and I’m totally here for it. Through her we learn that the red algae bloom is not toxic to marine life like the red tide (which can be worsened by hurricanes), but it does seem to cause mutations. We also learn how algae have mutualistic symbiotic relationships with several species, like Coralline algae, a red alga which plays an important role in the ecosystems or coral reefs. A similar type of algae lives in Cassiopea jellyfish, which gives the jellies their color and helps them get food.

An aerial photo of a red tide near the FLorida coastline.

Photo of a red tide from WMBF News.

As a story about embracing the “monstrous” parts of yourself, rather than hiding them away to please your family and society They Bloom at Night will especially appeal to queer and trans readers. I suspect Noon may be non-binary, but hasn’t cracked her egg  yet as many of the things she says and feels about being in a “girl’s body,” like “Monsterhood is a girl’s body you don’t belong in”  and not knowing what it means to be a girl, felt familiar to me as a non-binary AFAB person. She feels more comfortable in a “monstrous” body than one that belongs to a girl. The “body horror” is less horror than it is freedom. Tran is also non-binary and uses they/she pronouns so I wonder if they had similar feelings as a young person. There’s a decent amount of trans and queer representation in the book, with Saffy being transgender, Wilder bisexual, Covey a lesbian, and the lead scientist researching the algae bloom, Dr. Delgado, is non-binary. There may also be some neurodiversity among the group as one of the teens quips that they’re “Team Neurotic Kids with Very Specific Interests,” something else that people are expected to hide away for the comfort of the neurotypical.

Tags: Asian American, BIPOC, Body Horror, Book Review, Eco Horror, Gay, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Non-binary, Recommended, Trans, Vietnamese, Young Adult
Draw You In Vol.1 – Collector’s Item by Jasper Bark

Draw You In Vol.1 – Collector’s Item by Jasper Bark

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing

Genre: Blood & Guts, Mystery, Occult

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Gay author, two main characters with mental illness

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Ableism, Amputation, Body Shaming, Child Abuse, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Homophobia, Mental Illness, Pedophilia, Police Harassment, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Slurs, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Xenophobia

Blurb

Can you disappear so completely that only one person remembers you existed?

That’s what comics creator Linda Corrigan asks, when her editor, disappears without a trace. Drawn into an FBI investigation by Agent McPherson, Linda and comics historian Richard Ford unearth a chilling link to the forgotten comic artist R. L. Carver, whose work might just hold the key to a series of mysterious disappearances.

As they explore Carver’s life, they uncover the secret history of horror comics, the misfits, madcaps and macabre masters who forged an industry, frightened a generation and felt the heat of the Federal Government. They also stumble on the shadow history of the United States on a road trip that veers into the nation’s dark underbelly, where forbidden knowledge and forgotten lore await them.

Described as “Kavalier and Clay meets Clive Barker,” Draw You In Vol.1 – Collector’s Item is the first in a mind-bending trilogy of novels. It contains stories within stories that explore horror in all its subgenres, from quiet to psychological horror, from hardcore to cosmic horror.

 

Experience the epic conspiracy thriller that redefines the genre for a new generation.

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

I should start by saying this is the first book in a trilogy, it ends on a cliffhanger, and you’ll be left with more questions than answers. You need to read the full series to get the whole picture, but you won’t have to wait for the next volume to come out because all three books have been published. I’ve only read the first book for this review, so I can’t say what the rest of the series is like, but I enjoyed the first novel. Readers should also be aware the story centers around an FBI investigation with the main character acting as a civilian consultant. While I personally enjoy detective investigation stories like Psych, Lucifer, and Hannibal, I know copaganda is a big turn off for many. Finally, there’s a secret government organization, which may be another turn off for readers, as the whole idea of a wealthy cabal that secretly controls the government has roots in antisemitism (look up “The Elders of Zion” for an example). However, Bark’s secret organization seems to be controlled by wealthy WASPs instead, and one of the people trying to prove its existence is a Jewish man. I personally felt like the secret organization was more of a criticism of how the government often hurts those with marginalized identities than playing into an antisemitic conspiracy theory, but I’m also not Jewish so it may hit different for someone who is.

The story starts with a formerly famous comic book artist named Linda Corrigan who is now struggling to get by. It’s been my personal experience that male authors don’t usually write women well, but I love the way Bark writes Linda. For one thing, I appreciate that she’s middle-aged and heavier set instead of hot, young, and skinny. She acknowledges that her appearance is a double-edged sword; while she no longer gets sexually harassed, misogynist editors now ignore Linda completely. Her complicated relationship with being an artist, especially now that she’s no longer popular, also felt relatable and realistic. Linda loves being an artist, but the industry does not love her back, and it’s a difficult job, full of heartbreak and financial strain. She doesn’t just miss the money, but the attention she used to get as a famous artist.

She’s struggling to market and sell her independent graphic novel, Doom Divine (the title comes from the Algernon Swinburne poem The Death of Richard Wagner) and it’s destroying her morale. Linda misses the old days when she was on panels and invited as a guest artist. As someone who used to do artist alleys at anime cons 10+ years ago, I can relate to Linda’s fond memories of the past. I remember when it was easy to get into an artist alley back in 2009 and Boston Comic Con was a one-day event in a basement room that cost about $20 to get in (you got a discount if you wore a costume). It was mostly indie comic creators and comic shops selling back issues back then. Of course, Linda also admits that comic cons have become much safer for women than they used to be earlier in her career, when she was one of the few female comic artists and was used to sexual harassment. She’s happy to see both more women attendees and women working in the industry.

Linda is getting little traffic at her booth and debates packing it up early when she runs into one of her old editors at Fox Comics (I love that Bark uses a real comic book publisher from the past), Paul Kleinman. The two begin joking around and Paul shows her an old sketchbook of horror art. Linda recognizes the work as being by a little-known comic artist named R.L. Carver. Paul lets her use Carver’s old pen and sketchbook, and she draws a quick portrait of the editor. He ends up inviting her to an exclusive party with a bunch of other editors that could really help Linda’s career. Linda puts on her Vampirella dress (another fun comic book nod), and heads to the party, but when she arrives, no one has heard of Paul and she’s not on the list. To add insult to injury her old assistant editor Stephanie tells her that her dress isn’t age appropriate and too revealing. Hurt and humiliated Linda heads home wondering how Paul could play such a cruel trick on her.

At the con the next day, no one seems to remember who Paul is. His mysterious disappearance triggers one of Linda’s panic attacks. She reports Paul missing after about a week, but the police imply Linda is ether crazy or lying for filing a missing persons report for a man who seemingly doesn’t exist. She’s beginning to believe maybe she really is losing her mind when Agent McPherson of the FBI tracks her down. He tells Linda that Paul isn’t the only mysterious disappearance connected to R.L. Carver’s sketchbook, and he offers her a position as a special advisor to the FBI. Joined by a comic historian named Richard Ford, the three set out to learn the history of the enigmatic Carver. Linda finds herself relating to Carver because he’s also a comic artist ahead of his time who’s dismissed by the industry. As she learns more about his story, she begins to wonder if pursuing a career as an artist is truly worth it. As the mystery at the root of the story unfolds, we also learn more about the comic industry and its history.

The cover for Tales from the Crypt #29 shows a hunch backed ogre nailing a man into a coffin. The cover for Black Cat #50 depicts a man's face and hands melting down to the bone from a tube of uranium. Weird Mysteries #5 shows the purple gloved hands of a man removing the brain of an ape's head. The cover of Eerie #2 has a skeleton holding a lantern and staff of bone leading a woman in chains through a sewer. The woman wears a torn yellow dress.

Tales from the Crypt #29, Black Cat #50, Weird Mysteries #5, Eerie #2

Carver is revealed to be a Black comic artist (although I notice the editor didn’t capitalize Black) like Matt Baker, Elmer C. Stoner, and Jackie Ormes, who starts out drawing horror comics, similar to Alvin C. Hollingsworth (To learn more about Black comic artists check out Invisible Men: The Trailblazing Black Artists of Comic Books). We also learn later in the book that he’s asexual (yay for ace rep). Carver draws stories for the pre-Comics Code horror comics of the early 1950s, like Voodoo, Eerie, Suspense Comics, Black Cat, and Tales from the Crypt. Carver even has his own “horror hosts,” similar to the Crypt Keeper and Uncle Creepy, called the Saints of the Damned. Unfortunately, Carver’s work becomes too realistic and horrific and he’s eventually fired. Struggling to find work, Carver does a brief stint drawing fetish comics. This is similar to Joe Shuster, one of the original creators of Superman, who did BDSM comics under the pseudonym of Clancy when he was desperate for money (which you can learn more about in Secret Identity: The Fetish Art of Superman’s Co-Creator Joe Shuster). Of course, the creation of the Comics Code Authority in 1954 would have made Carver’s graphic illustrations impossible to print.

Blue Beetle #31 depicts a man clad in a blue scaly costume with a blue domino mask, red gloves, and a red belt. He is fighting Japanese soldiers in a WWII battle. There's a tank behind him with American soldiers. The City of the Living Dead cover shows a blond, white woman adventurer holding a whip. She stands in a cave full of human bones in front of a white-faced corpse that's been tied up by the wrists. The cover of Phantom Lady shows a dark haired white woman in a skimpy blue costume with a red belt and red cape. She is standing in front of a giant page with writing that is being read by an emaciated yellow hand with long finger nails.

Blue Beetle #31 drawn by E C Stoner, City of the Living Dead drawn by A.C.Hollingsworth, Phantom Lady #13 drawn by Matt Baker

A psychiatrist named Dr. Fredric Wertham was largely responsible for the Code. His book, Seduction of the Innocent: The Influence of Comic Books on Today’s Youth, blamed comic books that depicted sex, crime, and drug use for contributing to juvenile delinquency by encouraging these acts in young people. Not even the relatively tame superhero comics were safe, with Wertham claiming that Batman and Robin encouraged homosexuality and Superman was un-American and fascist (which I’m sure his two Jewish creators must have appreciated). Seduction of the Innocent was extremely popular, even winning a Book of the Year award, and this popularity stirred up a moral panic across the country. This eventually lead the United States Senate Subcommittee on Juvenile Delinquency to hold the comic book hearings  in 1954. By September of that year the Comics Magazine Association of America came together to create the now defunct Comics Code Authority, a self-censoring body to regulate the content of comic books. Rukes included “No comic magazine shall use the words “horror” or “terror” in its title” and “All lurid, unsavory, gruesome illustrations shall be eliminated.” This censorship hit horror comics, particularly publisher EC, especially hard.

Finally, Carver settled on making Underground comix. Comix emerged in the 1960s partially in response to the draconian restrictions enforced by the Comics Code Authority. These comics were either self-published or published by a small press and were sold in head shops. They often depicted drug use, free love, and political commentary. The golden age of underground comix lasted from 1968 to 1972, starting when Robert Crumb published Zap Comix. Underground horror comix rose in popularity during this time, many of them inspired by the EC Comics of the 1950s. Titles including Skull (Rip Off Press), Insect Fear (Print Mint), Death Rattle (Kitchen Sink), and Bogeyman (San Francisco Comic Book Company) were published in the early 1970s.

Boogeyman shows a monster in a graveyard with green skin and a white face with giant black eyes and a salivating mouth full of sharp teeth. In it's fist it holds a small demon with moth wings. Skull shows what appears to be an Aztec cult. There is a disfigured face in the foreground in a black cloak with a symbol on the forehead. A light skinned woman in a skimpy outfit walks a fierce dog on a leash. Insect Fear depicts a giant, neon green mosquito in a laboratory.

Bogeyman #3, Skull #5, Insect Fear #1

The amount of research that went into creating Draw You In Collector’s Item is impressive. Bark makes several references to real world artists like John Severin and Jack Cole, writers like Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko, publishers like Fox Comics (creator of Blue Beetle) and EC (creator of Tales from the Crypt and Mad Magazine), series like Terry and the Pirates, and even individual comics like DC’s House of Secrets #92 which features the first appearance of Swamp Thing. Bark also references other historical elements like the Cartoonist and Illustrators School (later the School of Visual Arts) created by Burne Hogarth for returning GIs and the Kefauver Hearings. Even the Louisiana Voodoo (which has differences from Haitian Vodou) was well researched, something that’s rare in the horror genre and routinely reduces a religion down to zombies and curses. I studied Vodou in college as part of an anthropology course (there was a lot of arguing with my white professor that yes, it was in fact a “real” religion) and found that Bark uses proper terminology when referring to the spiritual leaders (oungan and manbo), spirits (lwa), symbols (veves) and takes care to not make Voodoo seem like a “primitive” belief system. Bark even includes the manbo and ougan, Cécile Fatiman and Dutty Boukman, who conducted a Vodou ceremony at Bois Caïman, which is credited with being the catalyst that started 1791 slave rebellion of the enslaved Haitians against the French slaveholders.

The numerous mysteries at the center of the story (many of which I haven’t revealed to avoid spoilers) grabbed my attention and managed to hold it for the entirety of the book: no small feat considering I have ADD and can’t focus on one thing for long. The characters are all intriguing and I enjoyed the diversity of opinions and personalities. For example, Richard struggles with the stigma of having a mental illness while also having to be reminded by Linda to be more aware of his white male privilege, which always ruffles his feathers. Sometimes she feels sympathy for him, other times she appreciates how he admires her work or is impressed by his research skills, and on still other occasions she finds him incredibly frustrating and ignorant. I appreciate Bark’s honest representations of mental health for both Linda and Richard as well as accurate exploration of the harassment women face in the comic book industry. Overall, this is a fun, captivating read and I can see why it’s called Draw You In because that’s exactly what this book does.

 

Tags: Adult, African American, Asexual, Black, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Gay, LGBTQIA, Mental Illness, Mystery, Occult
I’m Sorry if I Scared You by Mae Murray

I’m Sorry if I Scared You by Mae Murray

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Medusa Publishing Haus

Genre: Body Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Bisexual main character, Lesbian major character; queer author of Indigenous descent with a chronic illness/physical disability 

Takes Place in: Arkansas

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Antisemitism, Childbirth, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Gore, Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Police Harassment, Rape/Sexual Assault, Slurs, Slut-Shaming

Blurb

Thanksgiving 2010.
The world prepares for the first lunar eclipse to take place on the winter solstice since the year 1638. Crop circles, strange animals, disappearances, and UFOs permeate the empty countryside of the American South.

Odette “Odie” Tucker is a first-generation college student, returning home from Boston to rural Arkansas for the holidays. On the drive home, she endures a pill-induced abortion in a gas station bathroom, the product of a recent rape she has told no one about. On a whim, she ‘rescues’ the clump of expelled cells in a plastic water bottle.

At home, Odie faces the suppressed feelings of abandonment from her family and lifelong best friend Dale, an out butch lesbian Odie is too afraid to admit she’s in love with. When Odie’s abortion becomes sentient and possesses her, she begins to live vicariously through its complete embrace of life, love, sex, violence, and vengeance.

I started I’m Sorry if I Scared You while recovering from a salpingectomy. One of my biggest phobias is getting pregnant and giving birth, and with Roe v. Wade being overturned in 2022 and the current administration’s war on birth control, I wasn’t taking any chances. And post-sterilization seemed like a good time to read a Southern rape revenge story about a sentient fetus and the occasional space alien.

Most of the story takes place in rural Arkansas, from where Murray originally hails. I’m Sorry if I Scared You is a love letter to that area and the low-income families that do their best to survive there. Poverty is a serious issue in Arkansas. Its poverty rate of 17.2% is the seventh highest in the nation, above the national official poverty measure of 11.1%. It’s one of the worst states for child well-being, has a higher suicide by gun rate than the rest of the US, has an incarceration rate of 912 per 100,000 people (making it the third highest in the Nation), is one of the least educated states, the most homophobic/transphobic, and is ranked one of the worst states to live in due to the economy. In contrast, Massachusetts, the state where Murray currently lives and her main character, Odie (short for Odette), goes to school, is one of the richest states, the first to legalize same-sex marriage in the country, and the most educated state in the US. We were also voted the snobbiest state (and apparently we’re proud of it), but more on that later. Odie is the first in her family to get into college (implied to be Harvard) and she views school and moving to Mass as her ticket to a better life. That is, until she’s raped by another student and discovers things can be shitty pretty much anywhere.

Disillusioned and depressed now that she knows college in Massachusetts can be just as shitty as the things that happen at home, Odie takes Plan B and drives back to Arkansas for Thanksgiving break to find comfort among her friends and family. She drives while bleeding through her pants and passes the clump of cells in a gas station bathroom. For reasons unknown to her, Odie decides to save the embryo in a plastic water bottle and bring it home with her. We learn that Odie has very mixed feelings about home. She’s ashamed of the insect infested trailer and the poverty in which her family lives, but at the same time, she loves her family and her two best friends, Dale (short for Dhalia) and Dwayne, and wants to be with them after such a traumatic event. Both her father and stepmother struggle with substance use disorder, alcohol for her dad and pills for her stepmom, and her teenage brother, Bubba, has already been to rehab for meth.

Substance use disorder (SUD)* does not discriminate when it comes to socioeconomic status, but poverty, lack of formal education, and unemployment are all risk factors for fatal overdoses and make it more difficult to recover from SUD. At my current job working with patients with SUD, I see how much more our low-income and unhoused patients struggle with their recovery than our patients with more financial stability. There are fewer detoxes that accept Medicaid and MassHealth (I live and work in Massachusetts, and MassHealth is our public state insurance), and those that do are often not as nice as the ones that only accept private insurance. Poverty and being unhoused can have disastrous effects on mental health by increasing stress and feelings of hopelessness, which in turn increases the risk of substance abuse. It’s also extremely hard to try and focus on getting better when all your energy goes toward trying to survive. There’s also the shame that comes with both, as poverty and addiction are often viewed by our society as a moral failing, as if poverty and substance use were choices.

Odie struggles with the complexities of loving someone with substance use disorder. Her father is kind and loving one moment, then flies into a violent rage the next. He drinks while he drives, terrifying Odie and Dale. But Odie seems to have accepted his alcoholism as a fact of life, which makes it even sadder. Murray does an excellent job capturing the feelings of despair felt not just by Odie after her assault, but of her friends and family who didn’t “escape” rural Arkansas. Shortly after her return, Odie and Dale head to Club Trinity (probably based on the Triniti Nightclub in Little Rock), the only gay club in the state. Even with Arkansas passing anti-LGBTQIA+ bills left and right, there are still safe havens for the queer community in Arkansas, like Eureka Springs, “the gayest small town in America.” Odie remarks that “The Southern queers did not have the same air of self-importance as the queers in Massachusetts” which, as a Massachusetts queer, I really wanted to be offended by, but it is kind of true. Having lived in Mass my whole life, there’s definitely a lot of classism here, and people will often ask where you went to college so they can judge how well educated you are, especially if you’re in the Boston area or one of the college towns. I’ve read posts by white Massachusetts liberals who will joke about Southern states “getting what they deserve” under Trump, as if there aren’t leftists in red states, and painting Southerners as lesser because they view them as poor and uneducated (and apparently think being low-income and lacking a formal education somehow makes you inferior). They don’t even realize how racist this is since the South has a large Black population.

My grandmother was from Tennessee and also left her depressed hometown of Iron City (the subject of the documentary Iron City Blues) during the great migration to move to Chicago and get her degree. Her family expected her to return home to be a teacher when she graduated, but she knew if she returned, she’d never escape the Jim Crow South and instead stayed in Chicago where there were more opportunities for an educated Black woman. Unlike Odie, my grandmother had nothing but negative things to say about the town she grew up in, and the South was full of bad memories for her. Odie knows her town isn’t a good or safe place to live, but there’s still love there. It’s why she goes back to Arkansas to seek comfort.

This was a weird ass book, and I mean that in the best way possible. I wish I could give more away, but since it’s short, I don’t want to spoil anything. Two of the book’s major themes are police violence and sexual assault (which feels especially poignant in today’s political environment) and it’s gratifying to read about Odie getting her revenge on both the cops and her rapist. A satisfying and sick fantasy since we so rarely get justice in the real world. I liked that there was polyamorous representation and we get to see what it’s like to be queer in a red state. It’s also refreshing to see Murray subvert “hixploitation” horror (examples include films such as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, Motel Hell, and Wrong Turn). Here it’s not the “hillbillies” who are the source of horror, but the rich college kid and corrupt cops.

*If you or someone you know struggles with substance use disorder check out SMART Recovery, a secular and research based peer support group.

Tags: Adult, American Indian, BIPOC, Bisexual, Body Horror, Book Review, Chronic Illness, Disability, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Own Voices, Physical Disability, Queer, Sci-Fi

This Thing is Starving Isobel Aislin

 

This Thing is Starving by Isobel Aislin. Highly Recommended. Read if you like Linghun, The Road to Hell by Terry Benton-Walker

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Independently Published

Genre: Ghosts/Haunting, Historic Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Asexual main character, trans man character, lesbian character

Takes Place in: Pennsylvania

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Death, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Homophobia, Medical Procedure, Mental Illness, Pedophilia, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Sexism, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Suicide, Transphobia, Victim Blaming, Violence

Blurb

It’s just a house, right? Houses can’t hurt. Houses can’t bleed.

But this house wants you to.

When the Waite family moves into their new home, they don’t bargain on being unwanted guests. But this house has deep-rooted, blood soaked history, and it’s angry. This Thing is Starving is an unflinchingly feminist love letter to the abused, bursting with feminine rage and told from the perspective of a haunted house.

Warning, this review discusses abuse, rape, and the sexual abuse of minors.

The house on 4377 N. Oscar St is haunted. But this is not your typical haunted house story. This story is told from the house’s point of view as it witnesses the tragedies that befall its owners throughout the year. The house is haunted by four women and one trans boy. The first, and oldest, is Lillian. She lived in the house with her husband in the 1920s and is the most unstable of the five ghosts. Jason was a teenaged, closeted trans boy from the 1950s. Lila was a lesbian from 1975 who hated her queerness. In 2002 the house was owned by a woman named Karissa, a child abuse survivor who struggles with low self-esteem. The final ghost is Kay, a teenaged girl who died in the house after it was abandoned by Karissa in the early 2000s. All the ghosts are victims of abuse, sexual assault, or other forms of violence at the hands of men, and they all met with tragic ends either by their own hand or at the hands of others.

Veronica Waite and her family are the house’s most recent inhabitants. Her mother, Louise, moved them there after escaping an abusive partner and is doing her best to start over. The house immediately takes a disliking to the family, with its wild and grubby children and Louise who it immediately labels a “bad mother” due to her love of wine, parentification of Veronica, and inability to keep track of all her children. The only exception to the house’s ire is Veronica, whom the house feels strangely drawn to. It views her as “a splotch of brightness amongst the gloom” and tries its best to communicate with the eldest Waite child. Veronica certainly seems happy in the beginning. She finds a new friend quickly, makes the cheerleading team, and even lands a hot, football playing boyfriend. She creates beautiful art to hang in her attic room. But then things start to unravel for the family, and the house can do little to stop it. As Veronica struggles with her asexuality and trying to take care of her siblings, she slowly learns how cruel the world can be to women and girls.

Most of the men in this story are horrible, even an old man whose obituary Louise is editing. I’m sure the “not all men” crowd will object to the fact that almost all the cisgender men (and boys) in the story are awful human beings (admittedly sometimes to the point of feeling like caricatures), but I believe this is intentional. The story is being told from the point of view of the house, and the house hates men. Because the house can only witness what happens within its walls, or the lives of the unhappy ghosts who haunt it, the house rarely gets to see the good parts of humanity. Statistically, the majority or murders and rapes are committed by men, so of course the ghosts are more likely to be victims of male violence, leading to the house believing  that all men are inherently bad. Toward the end of the book, a character named Owen shows up who is devoid of the toxic traits shown by most of the other male characters. While he clearly has a crush on his female coworker, he respects her boundaries, supports her decisions, and keeps his desire to protect her in check. But of course, the house can’t recognize that he’s a good man like the audience can, and immediately hates Owen.

Ironically, the house is reinforcing harmful gender stereotypes because it doesn’t understand the complexities and nuances of abuse. It can only see people as innocent victims (women, girls, and AFAB people) or evil perpetrators (cisgender men and boys). But characterizing men as inherently evil gives them permission to behave horribly, as it rejects the notion that they have control over their actions. Essentially, it’s a more insidious form of “boys will be boys.”  But men can, and need to, do better. The house also conveniently ignores the fact that women can not only support the harmful actions of men, but can be perpetrators themselves, and that men can be victims, but Aislin does not. Lillian is abused by her serial killer husband, but when she finally snaps and kills him, she doesn’t free the women he has chained in the basement. Instead, she replaces her husband as the predator in the house and kills them. She even slut shames her husband’s victims, justifying their rapes and murders to herself. Veronica’s younger twin brothers, Charlie and Sawyer, are also revealed to be victims of their father’s abuse (especially Sawyer). Sadly, like Lillian, Sawyer becomes an abuser himself, acting out what he experienced at the hands of his father on his little sister Leslie. The house makes an exception for Jason, a trans man, another victim of male violence, but not for the twins. I suspect that’s because the house is mildly transphobic, and sees Jason as a woman, even though he’s clearly a man and his ghost has a male-presenting form.

While the house feels a fierce protectiveness of Veronica and her baby sister, it shows a cold indifference to their brothers. Interestingly, Louise was also abused by her husband, yet the house doesn’t group her in with other victims. Instead, it views her with scorn for “failing” to protect her girls (but not the boys). This is another sign that the house is not entirely free from its own sexist bias and doesn’t fully understand how abuse works. The house’s hatred of Louise is understandable, with its strong desire to protect, it cannot comprehend a mother “failing” to do so. The problem is that the house expects her to be perfect just because she’s a mom, even though Louise is a victim herself and doing the best she can under the circumstances. She loves her children, and tries her best to protect them, even when the police fail to.

Sadly, judging mothers who are being abused is not an uncommon occurrence. In an interview with NPR, Mother Jones reporter Samantha Michaels explains “It’s basically sexism. Most of the legal experts that I talked with said that it comes down to a cultural expectation that women are responsible for what happens in the home. There’s an expectation that they should be the moral center of the family, that they should reign in the man’s worst impulses, and that they should do whatever they can to protect their child, even if it means, you know, sacrificing themselves.” Mothers can have their children taken from them, and are even sent to prison due to Draconian “failure to protect” laws. Kerry King is one such mother, who is serving a 30-year sentence in prison for not protecting her daughter from their abuser, John Purdy, who is only serving 18 years for abusing King and her daughter. On October 26, 2004 in the case of Nicholson v. Williams the New York Court of Appeals ruled that children who witnessed abuse were wrongfully removed from their mother’s care, and that their non-abusive mothers had not been “neglectful” simply because they were unable to protect their children from witnessing domestic abuse.

This Thing is Starving starts with statistics about the rape, exploitation, and abuse of women and girls. Aislin states that the story is dedicated to the women who never get justice and whose stories are never heard. The book reminds me of rape revenge films without the sensationalism/exploitation common for the genre, similar to Promising Young Woman and Revenge (both films notably have female directors). Except, in this story, most of the victims don’t get revenge. Revenge against an abuser may be satisfying in fiction, but it rarely happens in real life where men often get away with hurting women. This makes the book feel more realistic. And when the house, full of pain and rage, lashes out and tries to hurt abusers and rapists, it usually hurts the innocent as well.

For example, when the house violently kills the teen boys who attempt to rape Kay, she also gets caught in the crossfire and is killed. Hate and anger rarely hurt just the intended target, but others as well. As Maddie Oatman so eloquently puts in her rape revenge article for Mother Jones “These stories offer a retributive vision of justice, the violence of the man mirrored back onto him. Traditional gender roles are flipped—the woman is the predator, and the man is the prey—but the basic shape of the conventional revenge story is unchanged. Witnessing women take revenge in film and fiction may offer a cathartic thrill, but the trope can also function as a trap; vengeance replicates the same power structure the avenger wishes to hold accountable.” She further goes on to explain “But justice can and should mean something other than the balancing of harms, as prison and police abolitionists and other activists have argued. In resisting the carceral approach to punishment, they advocate a politics of structural change, of experimentation and openness to new social forms. These ideas demand a radical artistic approach to match, a breaking free of the traps of the revenge plot. A couple of recent works give us a sense of this. Call it the reparative mode.”

Aislin shows us that there are other, healthier ways to heal from trauma than hunting down and killing your rapist (something victims are sadly arrested for in real life). And honestly, I really appreciate that Aislin presents more realistic ways that survivors can heal from trauma, like leaning on others they trust for support and opening up about what happened.  Instead of perpetuating the cycle of violence like the house does, the survivors heal by breaking free of it. This Thing is Starving is certainly a difficult and heart-wrenching read that contains abortion, rape, revenge porn, conversion therapy, drug addiction, suicidal thoughts, an infant’s death, pedophilia, trauma, a minor doing sex work, and transphobia. But Aislin doesan amazing job handling the difficult topics of abuse, sexual assault, and trauma without making the story feel like trauma porn.

Tags: Adult, Asexual, Book Review, Ghosts/Haunting, Highly Recommended, Historic Horror, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Queer, Trans
Malicia by Steven dos Santos

Malicia by Steven dos Santos

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Page Street Publishing

Genre: Blood & Guts, Demon, Monster, Mystery, Myth and Folklore, Occult

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Gay and bisexual man characters, Dominican Americans, character with anxiety disorder

Takes Place in: The Dominican Republic

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Ableism, Child Death, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Medical Torture/Abuse, Mental Illness, Suicide, Torture, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Vomit

Blurb

Four friends, three days, two lovers, and one very haunted theme park.

On a stormy Halloween weekend, Ray enlists his best friends Joaquin, Sofia, and Isabella to help him make a documentary of Malicia, the abandoned theme park off the coast of the Dominican Republic where his mother and brother died in a mass killing thirteen years ago.

But what should be an easy weekend trip quickly turns into something darker because all four friends have come to Malicia for their own.

Ray has come to Malicia to find out the truth of the massacre that destroyed his family. Isabella has come to make art out of Ray’s tragedy for her own personal gain. Sofia has come to support her friends in one last adventure before she goes to med school. Joaquin already knows the truth of the Malicia Massacre and he has come to betray his crush Ray to the evil that made the park possible.

With an impending hurricane and horrors around every corner, they all struggle to face the deadly storm and their own inner demons. But the deadliest evil of all is the ancient malignant presence on the island.

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

The story is told through alternating first-person perspectives between the four main characters; Raymundo, Joaquin, Sofia, and Isabella. The friends are traveling to spend Halloween weekend in Raymundo’s family’s abandoned, horror-themed amusement park, Malicia. The park was closed after a mysterious mass murder took place, claiming the lives of Raymundo’s mother and brother. The island on which Malicia was built is only accessible by boat, and there’s a massive hurricane headed right toward them, so good luck trying to escape if anything goes wrong. You may question the teens’ decision to go to what is very obviously a cursed murder island during a hurricane, but each of the four have their own reason for being there. Raymundo wants to try and summon his brother’s spirit, Isabella wants to film a documentary about the island, and Joaquin wants to sacrifice Raymundo because the cult he belongs to told him to. (Don’t worry, that’s revealed early in the story, so it’s hardly a spoiler.) Sofia is  there because her friends are, and because she very firmly doesn’t believe in the supernatural or scare easily.

I think the characters were somewhat underdeveloped and one-note, and the exposition felt awkward at times. But honestly, the characters were just an excuse to explore the super cool setting. I mean, an abandoned, horror-themed, cursed, amusement park? Could there be a more perfect location for a horror story? And Santos clearly put a lot of thought into describing Malicia in loving detail. There’s an entire map in the beginning of the book (and I’m a sucker for maps) showing the different areas of the park, like Serial Springs, Paranormal Place, and Creature Canyon. I also liked the ride descriptions, which all sounded like tons of fun.

Malicia strongly reminded meof the island setting in Umineko When They Cry, where the characters are trapped by a typhoon on a remote island that is slowly overtaken by the supernatural (and everyone there dies horrible deaths). As both stories progress, the scares move from strange shadows and murders that could’ve been committed by a human to horror that’s clearly the work of demonic forces.

I enjoyed how the author not only used Spanish frequently throughout the book (which I appreciate that the publisher did not italicize) but words and phrases specific to the Dominican. The friends name their little group the Quisqueya Club, a word of Taíno origin that refers to the inhabitants of Hispaniola. Raymundo and Joaquin refer to each other as pana and tiguere, the friends informally greet each other with “Qué lo que” (what’s up?), Raymundo calls his parents Mai and Pai, and he admits to himself that he’s a Jablador (liar). Many of the monsters are also specific to the Dominican like Los Biembiens and La Jupia. The four friends also prepare Dominican food like mangú and yaniqueques.

Malicia an incrediblya spooky, gory, fun read. Even though it’s a 300+ page book, it felt like a quick read because the chapters are short and the suspense was able to grab my attention, although, admittedly, the story did drag a bit in the middle. The shifting viewpoints throughout the book helped build the suspense as the characters all started to become suspicious of each other. Because it was written for teens, it felt like a PG-13 horror movie with R-rated violence, which, of course, you can get away with in a book. The descriptions of mutilated bodies and rotting flesh are very graphic so this one is definitely not for the squeamish horror fan.

Tags: Anxiety Disorder, BIPOC, Bisexual, Blood & Guts, Book Review, Demon, Disability, Dominican, Gay, Latine/Latino, LGBTQIA, Monster, Mystery, Myths and Folklore, Occult, Own Voices, Young Adult
Feeding Lucy by Mo Medusa

Feeding Lucy by Mo Medusa

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Crooked Foot Press

Genre: Occult

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Lesbian main character, queer, non-binary author

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Cannibalism, Death, Gore, Gaslighting, Gore, Sexism Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Vomit 

Blurb

Frankie left home ten years ago, abandoning the tall mountains of her small hometown for the tall buildings of the big city. Desperate for a new life, she was happy to escape her overly-critical mother and the Polish-American customs of her past.

But after a strange caller informs her of her mother’s sudden death, she’s reluctantly drawn back to the mountains for the first time in a decade.

Arriving days before the Scandinavian tradition of Sankta Lucia, the town is aglow with holiday lights and cheer—and the townspeople can’t stop talking about the annual Feast of St. Lucy.

When an unexpected blizzard rolls through, revealing the true nature of the feast—and the evil that resides in the mountains—the darkness of her mother’s past is brought to light once again.

Caught between tradition and terror, Frankie quickly learns that her mother’s overbearing influence won’t be stopped by her death alone.

Taking elements from The Night of the Witches in Polish folklore, and the real tradition of Sankta Lucia, Feeding Lucy is a story of grief, tradition, and the darkness that lives inside of us all.

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

Frankie, or Franciska, as her mother calls her, is suffering through an awkward holiday party at her job when she gets the call that her mother has died. Frankie had a complex relationship with her volatile mother, Lucja. The two lived together in an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere along with Lucja’s ancient, cranky cat, Zula. Growing up, Frankie felt like her mother loved that old cat more than her. She doesn’t expect affection from her mother because it is so rarely given, and eventually stops expecting everything at all. Lucja is both overbearing and withholding as a mother, obsessing over everything her daughter does one moment, then punishing her with the silent treatment the next. Frankie fears disappointing her mother above all else, yet always seems to do so. Lucja judges everything her daughter does, what she wears, and even what she displays in her room. She grows to hate Lucja, and gets away from her the first chance she gets. Frankie moves to the city, gets a job at a magazine, and joins the local queer scene. She goes no contact with her mother and forgets all about her until she gets the call. Frankie has no interest in her mother’s body, or returning to their small town, but the coroner promises her that Lucja left her a “pretty penny” and she’ll need to come back to her hometown if she wants to collect the insurance money.

Franciska is from Kolbe, a town built by immigrants all from the same small village in Poland, whose descendants are determined to keep their traditions alive. To Franciska, it seems more like they can’t let go of the past. One of their most important traditions is Sankta Lucia (Saint Lucy’s Day) a Catholic feast day commemorating the Sicilian saint who was martyred during the Diocletianic Persecution by the Roman Empire. Saint Lucy’s Day is held on December 13th and is viewed as a precursor of Christmas Day. Because the name Lucia is derived from the Latin “lux,” meaning “light,” and her feast day is celebrated during the darkest time of year, Saint Lucy’s Day is considered a “festival of light” meant to drive away the darkness, similar to Diwali or Hannukah. Young girls dress up as Saint Lucy, in a white robe with a red sash and a wreath of candles on their heads. Songs are sung and saffron buns eaten.

A drawing of a girl with long blond hair and brown eyes wearing a white dress with a red sash. Oh her head is crown of green leaves, red berries, and six white candles. She is holding a seventh candle and it's casting shadows on her face. The picture has a dark blue background with a gold border and holly leaves surrounding the image.

An example of what girls wear for Saint Lucia

Interestingly, Lucia shares her holiday with another Lucy, the Scandinavian Lussi. Lussinatta, or Lussi’s Night is similar to the legend of the Wild Hunt, where Lussi and her band of trolls, witches, and undead spirits would spend the darkest night of the year searching for unsuspecting humans who had stayed out too late or not finished their chores. Those who had not finished spinning yarn or threshing could expect to have their chimneys smashed. Those who were especially unfortunate would be whisked away by Lussi, never to be seen again.

And wouldn’t you know it, Frankie has arrived in Kolbe just in time for the annual Saint Lucy’s feast her mother always organized and the town’s people are very invested in making sure Lucja’s estranged daughter attends the feast (red flag number one). But Frankie just wants to get her inheritance and go back to the city. That is, until she runs into her long-lost love, Stella, working at the coroner’s office. Frankie is so smitten with her former girlfriend that she immediately agrees to stay for Sankta Lucia despite her initial hesitation, and gives Stella a pass for her strange, mercurial behavior (red flag number two). She only briefly wonders how it’s possible that Zula, who was already an old cat when Frankie was a child, is still alive (red flag number three). Even the disturbing visions Frankie starts having during the day, and the horrible nightmares when she sleeps, don’t clue her in to the fact that something is deeply wrong in Kolbe.

I appreciated the depiction of Lucja and Frankie’s dysfunctional relationship. The more we learn, the clearer it becomes that Lucja is emotionally abusive to her daughter, but as is often the case when there’s no physical component, the abuse is not immediately obvious. Lucja uses guilt to manipulate and control her daughter, alternating between coldness and gentle affection. Her love is conditional and young Frankie feels like she has to earn it.

An estranged adult child returning to their small town only to discover the town’s dark secret is one of my favorite horror tropes (seen in such films as Salem’s Lot and Dead Silence), so this was right up my alley. The story has a witchy vibe and a dark, moody atmosphere that makes reading it feel like the calm before the storm (or blizzard in this case). This slow burn horror is perfect for a dark winter’s night.

Tags: Adult, Book Review, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Non-binary, Occult, Queer

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