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.

Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology edited by Aquino Loayza

Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology edited by Aquino Loayza

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Third Estate Books

Genre: Body Horror, Folk Horror, Myth and Folklore, Psychological Horror, Sci-Fi Horror, Slahser/Killer

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Autistic characters and authors, trans, two-spirit, agender and non-binary characters and authors, gay characters, asexual author and characters, Mexican American author and character, Latinx authors, biracial Filipino and Taiwanese author, Afro-Indigenous author

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Ableism, Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Eating Disorder, Gaslighting, Gore, Illness, Medical Torture/Abuse, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse,  Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Suicide, Torture, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Deep in the recesses of our minds are twisted realities that so closely mirror our own. In these pages, our nightmares are laid bare, made to manifest. There is no waking up; there is no going back once you fall into the tapestry of terrors that await. Are you ready? From courteous neighbors gone awry to the burning brightness of everlasting daylight comes Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology reflective of the vast array of neurodivergent artists in our community and the things that keep them up in the night, the things they can’t look away from.

Don’t Blink.

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.

Unfortunately, to review this, I do have to address some of the drama surrounding it. Anyone in the horror book sphere has probably heard it and it might turn some folks off this amazing anthology. However, you may not have heard about how Third Estate Books addressed it, and you shouldn’t pass on this book just because of a few bad apples.

One of the anthology’s original authors, Zach Rosenberg, was revealed to have a history of harassing and bullying women and femme identifying people. Writer and editor Evelyn Freeling details the harassment she received from Zach Rosenberg here. After Rosenberg posted a non-apology the next day Mattie Lewis shared her own negative experience with the author. Shortly afterward it was revealed that one of the editors of the anthology, Freydis Moon, had been impersonating a Latine person to sell their books and bullying others online. You can find details of the Freydis Moon controversy here. Third Estate Books released statements that both Moon and Rosenberg had been removed from Spectrum and that they would have no place on any other projects moving forward. Therefore, I would still recommend this book, as the publisher has taken steps to ensure the safety of everyone involved and removed anyone problematic. Now, on to the review!

I was happy to see that many of the authors and characters in the book were trans, agender, or non-binary (not surprising since trans and gender diverse folks are up to six times more likely to be autistic). There was also some BIPOC representation with Asian, Latine, and Afro-Indigenous authors, though I would have liked to have seen more. The stories were a very interesting mix. Some were straightforward and followed a classic story structure, while others felt more like stream of consciousness writing and focused more on  the poetic words used than forming a coherent plot (Survive Lot 666, Neighborly, and Discourses of the Seven Headed Monkey come to mind). But both styles worked well. A few of my favorites were Freedom was a Flaying by Onyx Osiris, Curse the Darkness by Die Booth, and The Sun Approaches Every Summer by Akis Linardos. The first of these stories was a violent revenge story where the bullies get violently massacred by the Aztec flayed god, Xipe Totec. I love revenge stories, and this one was particularly satisfying and twisted with a nice nod to the author’s heritage. Booth’s story was more of a “be careful what you wish for” tale, a genre of story I also greatly enjoy. The Sun Approaches Every Summer was particularly unique where a man with magical abilities slowly watches the town he lives in die because the sun is getting too close. As the townspeople fear witches, he’s forced to mask, hiding both his autism and his magical abilities. It reminded me of the Twilight episode The Midnight Sun, except in this story the protagonist is the only one immune to the heat due to his magic and is eventually the only one left alive.

The last story in the anthology, Different by Ashley Lezak, is one of only two in which autism is central to the story. In it, a little autistic girl named Abigail is “cured” by her parents who want a “normal” child.  One of ASAN’s (the Autistic Self Advocacy Network) core beliefs is that “autism cannot and should not be cured.” One thing many allistic and non-disabled people don’t seem to grasp is that Autism is part of who a person is and eliminating that would fundamentally change who they are. As Andrew Pulrang explained in an article for Forbes entitled What Do Disabled People Mean When We Say We Don’t Want A Cure? ,”Life without disabilities may at times have its attractions. It’s something that can be interesting, even fun to speculate about. But since it would often fundamentally change who we are, it’s not always a 100% attractive prospect.” The desire to “cure” autism is similar to the appeal of gay conversion therapy. Parents who can’t love their children as they are try to change them to be more “normal,” someone they can accept. This is what makes Lezak’s short story so frightening: the idea that not only can parents not love and accept their child as they are, but that they would fundamentally change her as a person without her consent. And while the procedure Ashley undergoes is fictional, it’s not too far removed from the lobotomies performed on unwilling patients until the 1970s to change their personalities and even sexual orientation.

The other one is Safe Food by Xochilt Avila, in which a teen named Cedar struggles with their avoidant and restrictive food intake disorder (unfortunately many autistic people also have eating disorders) and an abusive father. What their father doesn’t understand is that it’s not that Cedar doesn’t want to eat, it’s that they have such severe sensory issues around taste there are only certain foods they can palate, none of which their father ever gives them. This story is another example of how badly parents can treat their autistic children (although in Cedar’s case their dad probably would have been abusive even if they were neurotypical). Unfortunately, it isn’t uncommon for autistic individuals to be abused, and their abuse is often blamed on their “challenging behaviors” rather than society’s ableism. Often the media will portray the abuser with sympathy as they were “burdened” with having an autistic child.

But those were the only two stories that felt like they made autism and autistic issues major plot points. The others chose to focus more on undead creatures, migraines, curses, abandoned buildings with dead whales, monkey gods, music, haunted houses and a head in a box. And honestly, I like that. While autism is part of someone’s identity, it’s only one part and Spectrum allows its authors to be their full selves rather than just focusing on their autism. I also really enjoyed seeing how differently autism manifested in each of the fictional characters, underlying how autism really is a broad spectrum. Some had severe sensory issues requiring soft clothing and ear protectors, others didn’t. Some struggled socially, others did not. Some characters had trouble with eye contact while others didn’t. Some were single, while others in committed relationships (there seems to be a myth that autistic people don’t date or have sex, which is patently untrue). There was no “one size fits all.” Autism is just one aspect of their personalities instead of all it, like is often the case when neurodiverse characters are written by neurotypicals. But their autism also wasn’t downplayed like it didn’t matter at all. They got to be multidimensional people.

The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum

The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: ECW Press

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Sci-Fi

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Indian Canadian author and characters

Takes Place in: BC, Canada

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw

Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Tor

Genre: Body Horror, Eldritch, Monster, Occult, Psychological Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Queer character (Gay woman), POC characters (Black, Creole woman, unknown POC character), Bisexual author, Malaysian author

Takes Place in: London

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Body-Shaming, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Death, Gore, Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

John Persons is a private investigator with a distasteful job from an unlikely client. He’s been hired by a ten-year-old to kill the kid’s stepdad, McKinsey. The man in question is abusive, abrasive, and abominable.

He’s also a monster, which makes Persons the perfect thing to hunt him. Over the course of his ancient, arcane existence, he’s hunted gods and demons, and broken them in his teeth.


As Persons investigates the horrible McKinsey, he realizes that he carries something far darker. He’s infected with an alien presence, and he’s spreading that monstrosity far and wide. Luckily Persons is no stranger to the occult, being an ancient and magical intelligence himself. The question is whether the private dick can take down the abusive stepdad without releasing the holds on his own horrifying potential.

During one of my late-night explorations of the internet (when I should have been sleeping but was instead googling all the random thoughts that pop into my head at 2 AM) I stumbled upon the work of Malaysian author Cassandra Khaw, a nerdy, queer woman who writes video games and short horror stories. Instantly intrigued, I purchased one of her novellas, Hammers on Bone, and I have to say, I fell absolutely, head-over-heels in love with Khaw’s writing. Her beautifully crafted stories are full of wonderful words like “penumbra” and “ululation” (one of my favorite Latin derived words), deliciously grotesque descriptions, and unique characters. English is Khaw’s third language, yet she uses it with a mastery that puts even native English speakers to shame. Her writing has a lot of range, too. These Deathless Bones is a feminist fairy tale about a witch getting sweet revenge on her wicked stepson. Rupert Wong, Cannibal Chef is a comedic splatterpunk series, as hilarious as it is gory, about the misadventures of the titular chef who prepares decadent meals of human flesh for gods and ghouls and gets wrapped up in international deity politics. Khaw has even dabbled in chick-lit (while also managing to poke fun at the more problematic elements of the genre) with her book, Bearly a Lady, about a bisexual, plus size wear-bear that works at a faerie-run fashion magazine. Then there’s her Persona Non Grata series. Much like Victor LaValle’s The Ballad of Black Tom, Khaw’s novellas take place in a Lovecraft inspired universe, but she flips the famously racist HP the bird by putting people of color at the forefront and using his creations to address social issues like racism, poverty, and abuse. Both stories feature the private investigator, John Persons, one of the most interesting characters I’ve come across in horror fiction. It’s the first of Person’s two novellas, Hammers on Bone, that I’ll be reviewing here.

Persons speaks and acts like the “hardboiled detective” characters from 1930s pulp magazines, complete with dated American vernacular and machismo, despite living in modern day London. This makes John seem incredibly out of place and occasionally downright ridiculous, like when he describes a little boy running into his arms for a hug as “crashing into me like a Russian gangster’s scarred-over fist.” When he’s not working as a PI, John spends his time saving the world from destruction by Star Spawn and Elder-Things. He’s adept at using magic, smokes cigarettes to dull his inhumanly strong sense of smell, enjoys the cold, and can pick up memories from objects and people through physical contact. He also happens to be a Dead One (though not one of the Great Old Ones, Persons is quick to explain), an otherworldly creature whose true, terrifying form comfortably possesses resides in a human body which he shares with the ghost of its previous inhabitant. I bet that’s why he has the most unimaginative, made-up sounding name ever; it was probably the first thing that popped into his head when he started inhabiting his meat suit.

 

Persons and his human body have an interesting relationship, more commensal than parasitic. While other Star-Spawn and Elder Things simply take what they want, invading human flesh like a disease and eventually destroying their hosts, Persons tries to minimize damage to his meat suit (he may be immortal and resilient, but his human form still suffers from wear and tear, and he feels pain when it’s damaged), and gives his phantasmal passenger a say in certain decisions. Even though he’s in the driver’s seat, John’s body will still react to its original owner’s thoughts and feelings, independent of him. In one scene, the meat suit becomes aroused by the proximity of a beautiful woman. Persons is aware of “his” body’s quickening pulse and rising temperature (among “other” rising things, heh), and states that the sensation is “not unpleasant”, but he describes the physical reaction with the detached interest of scientist observing a cell under a microscope. He is, after all, still an alien being.

Not much is known about the man whose skin he now wears, except that he’s an older person of color who lived during the interwar period, and gave John his body willingly after being asked. The whole Philip Marlowe / Sam Spade persona Persons adopts to appear more human is as an homage to his meat suit’s original owner. I guess it’s kind of sweet that he does that, in a very weird way, but unfortunately his stubborn refusal to update his dated vocabulary and attitudes, or venture into any genre that isn’t detective noir makes John come off as pretty sexist. He refers to women as “skirts,” “broads,” “dames,” and “birds”, and divides them into victims and femme fatales. This attitude backfires on him spectacularly since, of course, the real world isn’t like his detective novels, and John keeps misjudging the women he interacts with.

What sets the monstrous PI apart from his fellow cosmic entities, besides seeking consent from his body’s original owner, is his fondness for humanity, his dedication to following the law and maintaining order, and his desire for earth to remain more or less the way it is, i.e. not a barren hell-scape inhabited by Eldritch abominations.  Most of the monsters he fights are chaotic evil, infecting and destroying whenever they go, but John Persons is closer to lawful neutral, occasionally leaning towards good. He’s not exactly heroic since, in his words, “Good karma don’t pay the bills,” but Persons does have a strong set of morals. As previously mentioned he’s big on consent and describes the act of possessing a willing host’s body as “better than anything else I’d ever experienced” and feels incredibly guilty when he accidentally reads a woman’s mind after touching her arm. When she becomes understandably angry at the violation, screaming “You don’t take what you’re not given!” John doesn’t try to minimize, excuse, or defend his behavior (even though the intrusion was an accident), he simply apologizes, mortified by what he’s done. He can even show compassion at times, but how much of his altruistic behavior is due to the remaining sentience of his body’s former inhabitant acting as his ghostly conscience is unclear.

It’s his spectral companion who convinces John to take the case of a young boy named Abel, who wants Persons to kill his abusive stepfather. While initially hesitant about committing murder, John is convinced once the boy reveals that his stepfather is a monster, both literally and figuratively, and both Abel and his little brother’s lives are in danger. He might not be a hero, but Persons does seem to genuinely want to help the two boys, even if he claims it’s just because they’re clients. It may be simply because he wants the ghost with whom he cohabitates to stop nagging him, as John is usually pretty indifferent to human suffering on his own, or perhaps it’s because an Old One is involved, and he’d really prefer it not destroy the world. Regardless of the reason, he agrees to help.

In his eagerness to play white knight (or his meat suit’s eagerness) Persons often fails to realize that the “helpless victims” he seeks to rescue are often perfectly able to take care of themselves, like the waitress whose mind he reads. He’s also quick to victim blame the boys’ mother for not leaving, clearly unable to understand the psychological element of abuse or how dangerous it is for a person to try and leave an abusive partner, just making her feel worse than she already does. John struggles when it comes to comforting victims or dealing with their emotions. He claims his lack of skill when it comes to words and feelings is due to being a “man” (or at least inhabiting the body of one), though it’s just as likely it’s because he’s an eldritch abomination, and he’s just been using sexism to avoid learning the nuances of human emotion. While Persons is better at managing his desire to destroy and devour than the other monsters and is able to maintain a detached control over his meat suit’s emotions and baser instincts, he’s not immune to the effects of his human body’s testosterone or his own toxic misogyny. When the PI is feeling especially aggressive his true form starts to writhe beneath his human skin, straining to break free from his epidermis and rip apart the object of his ire. Even his thoughts start to degrade into a sort of violent, inhuman, babble when he gets too riled up. John actually has to fight to keep control of his monstrous body when he first encounters the abusive stepfather, he’s so desperate to disembowel and devour him. His true nature is a stark contrast to the cool and logical detective persona Persons has adopted. I won’t lie, I did enjoy seeing him act all protective of Abel and his little brother. There’s something amusing about what is essentially an immortal abomination that can effortlessly rip a grown man in two, doing something as mundane and sweet as escorting his young client home while carrying the child’s kid brother on his hip. It’s also heartbreaking when you realize the two boys are safer with a literal monster than their step dad, McKinsey (even before he was possessed).

The step-father is a real piece or work, and throughout the story I desperately wanted John to give in to his monstrous instincts and tear the bastard apart, limb by limb. But being a man/monster of the law, Persons won’t do much more than saber-rattle until he has solid proof of McKinsey’s wrong doing, much to Abel’s frustration. The kid would much rather the PI solve things with his fists (teeth, tentacles, claws, and other miscellaneous alien appendages) than waste time talking to witnesses, and I’d certainly be annoyed too if the monster I hired to kill someone wasted time playing detective instead of just eating his target. But Persons did warn Abel that he’s not a killer for hire and wants to do things “by the book”. Unfortunately, like most real monsters, McKinsey excels at hiding his wrong doing and camouflaging his true nature which makes it difficult for John to find a solid lead. People like McKinsey and describe him as a “loving family-man”.  Those who haven’t been completely conned by his act either don’t care he’s a monster (like his boss) or are too terrified to do anything (like his fiancée). None of the adults in the boys’ lives are fulfilling their duty of protecting two vulnerable children. This is where the real horror lies in Khaw’s story– not the eldritch abominations like Shub-Niggurath, or the threats of world destruction, but the all too painful reminder that we so often fail abuse victims. Khaw is tasteful when describing what the two boys go through, and it isn’t played for titillation or described in explicit detail. She only reveals enough to lets us know the two boys in the story are going through something no child should ever have to suffer. I also liked her choice to make the victims male. Far too often male survivors are overlooked, erased, or mocked because society tells us males can’t be victims, even though the CDC states that “More than 1 in 4 men in the United States have experienced rape, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner in their lifetime” and a study published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine found that 1 in 6 boys will be sexually abused before the age of 18. As depressing as these statistics are, the situation isn’t completely hopeless, because monsters aren’t invulnerable, even the kind that have been infected by Elder Things. As Person muses towards the end of the book “I don’t remember who said it, but there’s an author out there who once wrote that we don’t need to kill our children’s monsters. Instead, what we need to do is show them that they can be killed.” For those of us who can’t go out an hire a eldritch abomination PI, at least we have RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) and their recommended resources for cases of abuse and sexual assault.

Frost Bite by Angela Sylvaine

Frost Bite by Angela Sylvaine

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Dark Matter INK

Genre: Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Bisexual main character

Takes Place in: North Dakota, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Physical Abuse, Police Harassment, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Remember the ’90s? Well…the town of Demise, North Dakota doesn’t, and they’re living in the year 1997. That’s because an alien worm hitched a ride on a comet, crash landed in the town’s trailer park, and is now infecting animals with a memory-loss-inducing bite–and right before Christmas! Now it’s up to nineteen-year-old Realene and her best friend Nate to stop the spread and defeat the worms before the entire town loses its mind. The only things standing in the way are their troubled pasts, a doomsday cult, and an army of infected prairie dogs.

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.

All Realene wants is to get out of Demise, North Dakota and become a doctor. Instead, she’s stuck in a dead-end town she hates with a dead dad and a mother who is slowly succumbing to Alzheimer’s who she has to care for. Realene‘s best friend, Nate, is in a similarly tough spot. His father is an abusive asshole who threw him out as soon as he turned 18 and continues to terrorize Nate’s mother. Because he got busted for selling weed, Nate is now ineligible for finical aid, which he can’t afford college without. It seems both will be trapped in Demise for the rest of their lives.  

And then the meteor strikes. Realene is first on the scene and witnesses the meteorite crack open and leak out a black sludge, which is quickly absorbed into the ground. She contacts the police about the meteorite, but chooses to leave out the part about the black sludge. The next day the strike site is a zoo, with police, military, scientists, newscasters, and locals crawling all over the scene. Most of the town views the meteorite as a reason to celebrate, even going so far as to have special shooting star sales at all the local stores, but the local religious zealot, reverend Zebadiah, sees it as a sign of the end times. And that’s when the prairie dogs start to attack.

Despite being a comedy about alien parasites, the book has some pretty depressing themes. As much as Realene loves her mother, she resents being stuck taking care of her and how it’s holding her back from her dreams. Does she give up her dreams and possibly her future to care for her mother, or does she abandon her best friend and the one family member she has left to try and make life better for herself? What you think Realene should do probably depends where you fall on the scale of individualism to collectivism and how you feel about filial piety. Regardless of the “right” answer it’s a complicated and crappy position to be in and whatever decision she make is going to leave her hurting.

Then there’s Nate’s situation with his abusive dad. I got incredibly frustrated with Nate’s mom and how she would choose her abusive husband over her own son. I understand intellectually that she is a victim. She was physically and emotionally abused first by her husband, and then by reverend Zebadiah. There are a myriad of reasons she might stay, and it’s likely her husband would have killed her if she tried to leave anyway. And I know that Nate’s father is the one at fault, not his mother, who was put in an impossible situation. I’m not upset that she couldn’t protect Nate when she couldn’t even protect herself, that was beyond her control. But the fact that, when given the opportunity, she chooses first her abusive husband and then her abusive reverend over her own son feels like a betrayal. But like Realene’s situation, the situation for Nate’s mother is complicated and there are no easy answers.

This is a book about killer prairie dogs, family, and a doomsday cult that comes with its own ‘90s playlist. And it works so well. The story manages to balance tragedy, horror, humor, and some genuinely heart-warming moments perfectly and in a way that doesn’t feel like you’re jumping from genre to genre. There’s also an orange cat named Pumpkin and I love him (don’t worry, nothing bad happens to him). Frostbite is a fun, heartfelt romp full of suspense and horror movie references. Definitely check it out, unless you love prairie dogs.

(UN) Bury your Gays by Clinton W. Waters

(UN) Bury your Gays by Clinton W. Waters

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: self published

Genre: Body Horror, Eldritch, Sci-Fi,  Zombie

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Gay author and characters

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Physical Abuse, Slurs, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

It’s the late 2000’s. Humphrey West and his best friend Danny are just trying to survive their senior year. Unfortunately, Danny falls short of that goal after a risky rendezvous. But Humphrey has just the thing: a concoction borne of magic and science that is able to bring the dead back to life (at least it’s worked on a bee so far). Against all odds, Danny comes back from the clutches of death.

The Danny that returns is…different. And it’s not just the missing memories. Soon, Humphrey is doing everything in his power to keep his friend alive, but none the wiser to what is happening.

A queering of the Lovecraft classic “Herbert West – Reanimator”, (UN)Bury Your Gays is about blurring the boundaries between life and death, love and obsession, and secrets and lies.

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.

Considering what a raging bigot H.P. Lovecraft was, it’s always delightful when one of his works is reclaimed by marginalized creators, because you just know it would drive him absolutely batty. On top of being racist, sexist, xenophobic, and antisemitic, Lovecraft was also a homophobe. He discouraged his close friend, a gay man named Robert Hayward Barlow, from writing homoerotic fiction, and his letters condemned homosexuality (though it’s unclear if Lovecraft ever knew the man he appointed as the executor of his literary estate was gay). However, some literary critics speculate that Lovecraft was himself secretly gay or asexual. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a homophobe would be overcompensating for a sexuality they were secretly ashamed of. It would certainly explain the strangely close friendship between one of Lovecraft’s most popular characters, Herbert West, and the unnamed narrator in Herbert West: Reanimator. Perhaps Lovecraft subconsciously created a male-male relationship that he himself desired.

The original story was first serialized in the pulp magazine Home Brew in 1922 and told the story of Herbert West and his loyal assistant, two medical students at Miskatonic University who experiment with reviving the dead. Their experiments are less than successful as the reanimated corpses become violent and animalistic; one even devours a child. The two share a close relationship, choosing to live together for years, even though the assistant admits to being terrified of his friend. The movie Re-Animator (1985) and its sequel Bride of Re-Animator (1990) furthers the gay subtext between the movie’s main characters Herbert West (Jeffery Combs) and Dan Cain (Bruce Abbot), with West often acting like a jealous lover to Dan. The homoerotic reading of the first two Re-Animator movies is apparently so popular it has over 500 fanfics shipping the two on Archive of our Own.  

(Un) Bury Your Gays is “a queering” of Herbert West: Reanimator that also draws inspiration from the films. (For example, the chemical solution in Waters’ story has a green glow, a movie-specific detail.) The title is a reference both to subverting the Bury Your Gays trope and to the plot itself where a gay character is brought back from the dead and literally “unburied.” The novella tells the story of Herbert West’s great-nephew Humphrey West, and his best friend, Danny Moreland (who takes over the role of the assistant and whose name is a reference to Dan Cain). Danny and Humphrey are best friends, and the only two queer kids in their religious, rural town. While they do love each other, it’s purely platonic and the two aren’t in a romantic relationship. Humphrey remains single while Danny secretly hooks up with the captain of the football team, Judd Thomas, who also happens to be the son of the town pastor and Humphrey’s biggest bully.The trouble starts when Humphrey discovers his great-uncle’s notebook detailing the secret to life after death. Humphrey attempts to use the reanimator solution to bring a dead bee back to life, with the hope that he can somehow use it to fight colony collapse disorder. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions and the solution soon leads to death and the destruction of Danny and Humphrey’s friendship.

Waters does an excellent job mimicking Lovecraft’s original story, both in tone and content, while also making it uniquely his own. Initially appearing to be a sensitive kid, Humphrey is eventually revealed to be every bit as complex as his great-uncle. His desire for revenge causes him to make morally questionable choices, which he rationalizes as trying to protect his best friend. He comes off as cold to others (much like Herbert West), even though he feels things deeply.  It’s an interesting twist to have the reanimator narrate the story, rather than his assistant. We get to hear firsthand what’s going through the mind of the mad scientist, making Humphrey a much more sympathetic character. He clearly loves Danny, and will do anything to protect him, but he takes it too far and becomes obsessive and controlling without even realizing it. When things go too far, Humphrey doesn’t show remorse– much to Danny’s horror. But all Humphrey wants is to keep his friend safe. He genuinely thinks he’s doing the right thing and can’t comprehend why Danny gets upset with him and eventually cuts him out of his life. And because Humphrey’s character is sympathetic, and we know how he feels and thinks, I honestly felt bad for him. It’s a compassion I can’t conjure for either the original Herbert West or the film version, both of whom, while not necessarily evil, are definitely on the lower end of the morality scale.

Overall Water’s queer retelling/sequel to Herbert West: Reanimator is an excellently written, morally gray horror that’s sure to please Lovecraft fans.

Unshod, Cackling, and Naked by Tamika Thompson

Unshod, Cackling, and Naked by Tamika Thompson

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Unnerving 

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Killer/Slasher, Sci-Fi Horror, Werebeasts

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Black main characters and author, lesbian character, Biracial Black/Creek character

Takes Place in: LA, California

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Body Shaming, Child Abuse, Child Death, Pedophilia, Police Harassment, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Slurs, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

A beauty pageant veteran appeases her mother by competing for one final crown, only to find herself trapped in a hand-sewn gown that cuts into her flesh. A journalist falls deeply in love with a mysterious woman but discovers his beloved can vanish and reappear hours later in the same spot, as if no time has passed at all. A cash-strapped college student agrees to work in a shop window as a mannequin but quickly learns she’s not free to break her pose. And what happens when the family pet decides it no longer wants to have ‘owners’?

In the grim and often horrific thirteen tales collected here, beauty is violent, and love and hate are the same feeling, laid bare by unbridled obsession. Entering worlds both strange and quotidian, and spanning horror landscapes both speculative and real, asks who among us is worthy of love and who deserves to die?

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 absolutely love horror anthologies, so I was excited to receive Unshod, Cackling, and Naked by Tamika Thompson. Many of the stories in the anthology focus on the balance between humans and nature and the morality of killing, owning, and eating animals. Bridget has Disappeared takes place in a dystopian near-future with disappearing resources which lead to poverty and crime. I Will be Glorious is about coping with loss and a killer tree. The Bats and The Turn are both about diseases that seemingly spread overnight (much like COVID) that cause dogs and bats, respectively, to turn against humans and attack them. The Turn especially focuses on the humanity’s relationship with domesticated animals and describes what would happen if dogs no longer wished to be kept as pets. Similarly, And We Screamed examines humanity’s relationship with livestock, and why we choose to eat some animals and feel entitled to try and control them. It also examines the sanctity of death and dead bodies. I found this story especially interesting because I was probably the exact opposite of the target audience. I eat meat and have several pets. I used to work on a farm with livestock (some of which were being raised for food) as a child, and I volunteered at an animal hospital where I sometimes had to help euthanize sick animals in my teens. In college I majored in biology and had no qualms about dissecting dead animals, including rats and cats (despite being a huge rat and cat lover).

In And We Screamed there’s a scene where the main character refuses to dissect a cat and her classmate points out that it’s messed up because it still has a face. My first thought was “Well, how are you supposed to dissect the eyes if it doesn’t have a face?” (Which turns out to be the teacher’s argument as well.) It was intriguing to be reminded that something I consider routine and mundane was actually horrific for many people, and to see why exactly it was so frightening from their point of view.  I was able to understand and empathize with where the author, and her characters, were coming from, even if I didn’t fully agree with her conclusions. I also recognized the mental disconnect that makes me willing to dissect a rat for science while also dropping over a grand on veterinary bills for a rat I keep as a pet.  Truly a testament to Thompson’s skill as a writer.

My favorite stories in Unshod, Cackling, and Naked were the ones with feminist themes. In I Did it for You a young rape survivor tracks down creepy men and cuts off their small toe, turning them into victims who will have to carry a scar for the rest of their lives, just as she does. She points out to one cop–the one who raped her because he thought she was a prostitute–that losing a toe is nothing like losing your will to live after being sexually assaulted. I always enjoy a good rape revenge story and I appreciated that Thompson makes the sex workers in I Did it for You heroes rather than victims (like they are in most horror), and they feel like real characters rather than stereotypes.  

Mannequin Model is the story from which Unshod, Cackling, and Naked draws its name. In it, a woman acts as a “living doll,” modeling clothing in a store window where she’s objectified and sexually harassed. She’s treated as a literal sex object, with no voice or will, so it’s extremely satisfying when she finally rebels. But my absolute favorite story in the collection is I am Goddess. In it, a woman named Lira wants to convince her husband to pay for face treatments so she can be beautiful. Her marriage to her husband is basically every bad heterosexual relationship you’ve read about on Reddit. Lira works full time and does everything around the house. She pays the mortgage and all the bills out of her paycheck, despite earning the same amount as her husband. Her husband uses his own money to buy himself big-screen TVs and flashy new cars while telling Lira they can’t afford a washer and dryer or a car for her, so she’s stuck doing laundry by hand and taking the bus. He flirts with other women, dismisses her feelings, and ignores her unless he wants sex. But Lira puts up with it with a smile because she has been conditioned her whole like to believe she needs a man to be “complete” and that she’s lucky to have anyone at all considering her appearance. All of Lira’s accomplishments growing up are downplayed until she finds a husband. Her cousin constantly mocks her appearance and makes Lira feel inferior. No wonder she’s trapped in such a toxic relationship. But her husband’s refusal to let her get the one thing she wants, her face treatment, finally pushes Lira over the edge. She finally sees her husband for who he really is, a loser, and all her pent up anger and frustration comes pouring out. She gets even, and it’s glorious. Definitely one of the strongest stories in the collection, in my humble opinion. 

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Dancing Cat Books

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Body Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: American/Indian and Indigenous characters (Mostly Métis, Anishinaabe, and Cree), Black/Indo-Caribbean/Biracial character, gay male characters

Takes Place in: Toronto, Canada

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Amputation, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Kidnapping, Medical Torture/Abuse, Pedophilia, Police Harassment, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Suicide, Violence

Blurb

In a futuristic world ravaged by global warming, people have lost the ability to dream, and the dreamlessness has led to widespread madness. The only people still able to dream are North America’s Indigenous people, and it is their marrow that holds the cure for the rest of the world. But getting the marrow, and dreams, means death for the unwilling donors. Driven to flight, a fifteen-year-old and his companions struggle for survival, attempt to reunite with loved ones and take refuge from the “recruiters” who seek them out to bring them to the marrow-stealing “factories.”

***CONTENT WARNING: In this review I will be discussing Indigenous American (Canadian, Mexican, and the US) history and residential schools/Indian boarding schools, with a primary focus on Canada where the Marrow Thieves takes place. I will be touching on genocide, forced assimilation, abuse, sexual assault, trauma, and addiction. There will also be images of verbal abuse and the effects of trauma. Please proceed with caution and take breaks if you need to. For my Indigenous readers: if you feel at all distressed or disturbed while reading this, or just need support in general, there are resources for the US and Canada here and here respectively. If you need extra help you can also find Indigenous-friendly therapists here and here to talk to. If you are a abuse survivor, are being abused, or know someone who is, please go here. There are further links at the end of the review. Please reach out if you need to!***

I have tried to use mainly Indigenous created articles, websites, books, films, and interviews for reference when writing this review. I have also included multiple quotes from residential school survivors, as I felt I could not do justice to their vastly different experiences without using their own words. However, I can only cover a fraction of a long and complex history. I strongly encourage everyone to check out the books, videos, and podcasts I have listed at the end of the review. Kú’daa Dr. Debbie Reese for providing such an excellent list of suggestions for residential school resources! They were a huge help in this review. And speaking or Dr. Reese, check out her review of The Marrow Thieves as well as Johnnie Jae’s Native book list. And another big thank you to Tiff Morris for being my sensitivity reader for this review. Your help and advice was invaluable! Wela’lin!

When I first read The Marrow Thieves years ago it didn’t impact me the way it does now. Back in 2017 a worldwide pandemic still existed solely in the realm of science fiction. Much like a giant asteroid destroying the earth, it was technically possible but so unlikely that such a scenario wasn’t worth worrying about. Re-reading the dystopian horror novel in 2020 was a completely different and utterly terrifying experience. Even knowing how the story would end was not enough to quell my anxiety and I felt on edge the entire time. The fact that Cherie Dimaline’s used real world atrocities committed against Indigenous people just makes the story feel even more plausible and horrifying. Water rightsviolence against Indigenous womencultural appropriationclimate change, cultural erasure, and the trauma caused by residential schools are all referenced.

The book opens with the protagonist Frenchie, a young Métis boy, watching helplessly as his Brother Mitch is beaten and kidnapped by Recruiters, a group of government thugs tasked with capturing Indigenous people for the purpose of extracting their bone marrow. Now alone, and with no idea how to survive on his own Frenchie has to be rescued from starvation by a small band of Indigenous (mostly Anishinaabe and Métis) travelers. The group welcomes the young boy as one of their own, and he soon comes to see them as an adoptive family as the ragtag bunch works together to survive and protect each other.

Miig is the patriarch of the group, an older gay gentleman who likes to speak in metaphor and teaches the older kids Indigenous history through storytelling. He also trains Frenchie and the others to hunt, travel undetected, and generally survive in their harsh new reality. Miig might seem cold at first but he genuinely loves the kids, he just prefers to show it through actions rather than words. Dimaline did an excellent job writing Miig and he felt like a real person rather that a lazy gay stereotype. I absolutely adore his character. He’s got the whole “gruff but kind dad” thing going. Minerva is another one of my favorites, a cool and cheerful Elder who acts as the heart of the group and teaches the girls Anishinaabemowin, as most of the kids have lost their original languages. She keeps all of them to the past. Minerva also raised the youngest member of the group, Riri, a curious and spunky 7-year-old who ends up bonding with Frenchie. Riri was only a baby when she was rescued and has no memory of a time before they were forced into a nomadic lifestyle in order to avoid the Recruiters so, unlike the others, she has nothing to miss. Cheerful and lively Riri never fails to raise everyone’s spirits or give them hope for a better future.

The rest of the kids range from nine to young adulthood. Wab is the eldest girl, beautiful and fierce and “as the woman of the group she was in charge of the important things.” Then there’s Chi-boy, a Cree teenager who rarely speaks. The youngest are the twins Tree and Zheegwan, followed by Slopper, a greedy 9-year-old from the east coast who likes to complain and brings his adoptive family the levity they all need. Later on they’re joined by Rose, a biracial Black/White River First Nation teen who Frenchie immediately develops a crush on. And I can’t really blame him because Rose is a total bad ass. All of them have lost people to the residential schools and some, like the twins, were even victims of “marrow thieves” themselves. But they all support each other and survive despite the difficulties they’ve faced.

No one knows what caused the dreamless disease rapidly infecting the country, an illness that causes the victim to stop dreaming and slowly descend into madness, only that Indigenous people are immune. And yes, I do appreciate the irony of a plague that only affects Colonizers. Perhaps it’s divine retribution for Jeffery Amherst’s (yes that Amherstgerm warfare. When their immunity is discovered people begin to flock to Native nations begging for help. But Indigenous people are understandably reluctant, having been burned too many times before. They don’t want to share their sacred ceremonies and traditions with outsiders, and for very good reason. Non-Natives quickly get tired of asking and do what they do best: take what they want, in this case Indigenous practices and later Indigenous bodies. The few survivors who do manage to escape the new residential schools often return with parts of themselves missing, an apt metaphor for real residential schools. Although set in a fictional future The Marrow Thieves dives into a past that Colonialism has actively tried to suppress.

Indigenous history is rarely taught in either US or Canadian schools (outside of elective courses) and what is taught is often grossly inaccurate. To quote Dr. Debbie Reese’s post about representation in the best-selling paperbacks of all time: “23,999,617 readers (children, presumably) have read about savage, primitive, heroic, stealthy, lazy, tragic, chiefs, braves, squaws, and papooses.” In America we’re taught that the Wampanoag (who are never mentioned by name) showed up to save their pilgrims friends from starvation and celebrate the first Thanksgiving, with no mention of the English massacre of the Pequot, Natives being sold into slavery, or the Colonists’ grave robbing. After 1621, mentions of American Indians are scarce to non-existent. There might be a brief paragraph here and there in a high school textbook about the Iroquois Nation siding with the British in the Revolutionary War, or the Trail of Tears.

2015 study of US history classes, grades K-12, showed that over 86% of schools didn’t teach modern (post-1900) Indigenous history and American Indians were largely portrayed “as barriers to America progress. As a result, students might think that Indigenous People are gone for one reason—they were against the creation of the United States.” Few students are ever told about the mass genocide of American Indians, smallpox blankets, the government’s unlawful seizure of Native land, the many broken treaties, destruction of culture, and forced experimentation. American Indian writer and activist Suzan Shown Harjo points out in an interview “When you move a people from one place to another, when you displace people, when you wrench people from their homelands, wasn’t that genocide? We don’t make the case that there was genocide. We know there was, yet here we are.” You would think that American history would dedicate more than a paragraph to THE PEOPLE WHO FUCKING LIVED IN AMERICA. I’m not that familiar with the Canadian education system, but according to Métis writer and legal scholar Chelsea Vowel they’re not much better at teaching the history of First Nation, Inuit, and Métis people. The omission of Indigenous Americans and Canadians from history lessons is just another form of erasure that contributes to the continued systemic oppression of First Peoples by a racist and colonialist system.

A White teacher stands in front of her class and is pointing to racist, stereotypical cartoon images of Pilgrims and Indians. The teacher says “The Indians helped the pilgrims and they became best friends! Then the Indians all voluntarily left so we could found America. Too bad there aren’t any Indians anymore!” The only non-White child in the class, a Native girl raises her hand and say “Um, actually the Wampanoag and lots of other American Indian tribes are still around even though the colonizers tried to get rid of us and stole our land. I’m Seneca and my family and I are still here.” The cheerful teacher says “I said…” then she turns menacing “…The Indians and Pilgrims were FRIENDS and they left voluntarily. So stop making things up. Now it’s time to make construction paper Indian head dresses kids!”

The sad thing is, the “Pilgrim and Indian” drawings are based on actual, present day “lessons” from teaching websites. This comic is loosely based on my experience as the only Black kid in class when we learned about the Civil War. The Seneca girl is wearing a “Every Child Matters” orange shirt for Residential Schools survivors.

White supremacist Andrew Jackson believed American Indians had “neither the intelligence, the industry, the moral habits, not the desire of improvement” and used this to justify the numerous acts of Cultural Genocide he committed. One of the worst was the Indian Removal Act, which forced the Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek and Seminole to choose between assimilation or leaving their homelands. Justin Giles, assistant director of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation Museum, describes it as, “You can have one of two things: you can keep your sovereignty, but you can’t keep your land. If you keep your land you have to assimilate and no longer be Indian… you can’t have both.” While reading The Marrow Thieves, I was struck by how much the world Dimaline created felt like a futuristic Nazi Germany. It makes sense considering “American Indian law played a role in the Nazi formulation of Jewish policies and laws” according to professor of law Robert J. Miller. Good job America, you helped create the Holocaust. I’m sure Andrew Jackson would be proud.

But people tend to object to mass murder and breaking treaties, even in the 1830’s. Jackson’s Indian Removal Act was controversial and drew a great deal of criticism, most notably from Davy Crockett and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Christian missionary and activist Jeremiah Evarts wrote a series of famous essays against the Removal Act that accused Jackson of lacking in morality. So even back then folks hated the 7th president for being a lying, racist piece of shit. Of course that didn’t necessarily mean they were accepting of the people they saw as “savages.” A line from They Called it Prairie Light sums it up best: “Europeans were at first skeptical of the humanity of the inhabitants of the American continents, but most were soon persuaded that these so-called Indians had souls worthy of redemption.”  So how could they “kill” Indians without actually killing them and looking like the bad guys? Richard Henry Pratt came up with the solution. Changing everything about Indigenous people to make them as close to Whiteness as possible.

“A great general has said that the only good Indian is a dead one. In a sense, I agree with the sentiment but only in this: that all the Indian there is in the race should be dead. Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.” – Richard Henry Pratt

Pratt was a former Brigadier General who had fought in the Union during the Civil War. He spoke out against racial segregation, lead an all Black regiment known as the “Buffalo Soldiers” in 1867 (yes, the ones from the Bob Marley song), and unlike Jackson, actually viewed the American Indians as people. Unfortunately, like most “White Saviors,” Pratt was ignorant, misguided and believed Euro-Americans were superior. “Federal commitment to boarding schools and their ‘appropriate’ education for Native Americans sprouted from the enduring rootstock of European misperceptions of America’s natives.” (Tsianina Lomawaima). And so Pratt decided the best way to help American Indians was to remove children from their homes to teach them “the value of hard work” and the superiority of Euro-American culture. Pratt had already practiced turning Cheyenne prisoners of war at Fort Marion into “good Indians” and he was convinced an Indian school would be equally successful. So in 1879 he founded the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, the first Indian boarding school in the US.

“Soon, they needed too many bodies, and they turned to history to show them how to best keep us warehoused, how to best position the culling. That’s when the new residential schools started growing up from the dirt like poisonous brick mushrooms. We go to the schools and they leach the dreams from where our ancestors hid them, in the honeycombs of slushy marrow buried in our bones. And us? Well, we join our ancestors, hoping we left enough dreams behind for the next generation to stumble across.”

Miig telling the kids how the bone marrow harvesting started.

“Civilizing” American Indian children by separating them from their cultural roots and teaching them Eurocentric values was not a new idea: The Catholic church had already been doing it for years. But it was Pratt who made it widespread. At the school, students were forced to cut their long hair, adopt White names and clothing, speak only in English, and convert to Christianity. Failure to comply would be met with corporal punishment from Pratt, who ran the school like an army barrack. Understandably, Indigenous people —   who had no reason to trust a nation of treaty breakers —    were initially reluctant to send their children away from their families to go to school. But Pratt convinced Lakota chief Siŋté Glešká aka Spotted Tail (one of three chiefs who had travelled to Washington to try and convince President Grant to honor the treaties the US had made) that an English education was essential to survival in an increasingly Euro-centric America. He argued that if Spotted Tail and his people were able to read the treaties they signed, they never would’ve been forced from their land. He would teach the students so they could return home and in turn help their people. Reluctantly the chief agreed to send the children Dakota Rosebud reservation, including his own sons, to Carlise. Ten years later Pratt’s “save the Indian” goal became a National policy and Natives no longer had a choice in the matter.

“As girls, Martha and young Frances found the atmosphere of the school alien, unfriendly, and oppressive. Both had been raised by nurturing parents of the leadership class, and neither had been abused as a child. They had learned the traditions and laws of their tribes, but the church had not had a strong presence on the San Manuel Reservation. When the girls entered the St. Boniface school, their parents had agreed to their enrollment so that they could cope better with an ever-changing society dominated by non-Indians. Furthermore, their parents expected them to be future leaders of the tribe and felt that training at an off-reservation boarding school would better prepare them for tribal responsibilities.” (Trafzer)

Canada was also pushing for assimilation and, using Pratt’s Residential School model, began to develop their own “off-reserve” schools. In 1920 Duncan Campbell Scott, the Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs for Canada from 1913 to 1932, passed the Indian Act. The bill made school attendance mandatory for all Indigenous children under the age of 15. Anyone who refused could be arrested and their children taken away by truant officers, the basis for Dimaline’s Recruiters. Residential school survivor Howard Stacy Jones describes how she was snatched by Mounted Police from her public school in Port Renfrew British Columbia and brought to a residential school: “I was kidnapped when I was around six years old, and this happened right in the schoolyard. My auntie and another witnessed this… saw me fighting, trying to get away from the two RCMP officers that threw me in the back seat of the car and drove away with me. My mom didn’t know where I was for three days.”

Scott famously said “I want to get rid of the Indian problem. . . Our objective is to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not been absorbed into the body politic and there is no Indian question, and no Indian Department, that is the whole object of this Bill.” Schools in the US and Canada did have some dissimilarities. While the U.S. moved away from mission schools in favor of government run ones, most Canadian residential schools continue to be run by Christian missionaries and supported by several churches. As a result, federal control was weaker in Canada and the goal of converting Indigenous people to Catholicism and Protestantism remained at the forefront. Interestingly, during my research I found that Indigenous people reported a wide variety of experiences in US residential schools ranging from positive to negative, whereas the stories about Canadian ones were overwhelmingly negative.  It’s possible that the Canadian residential schools were somehow worse than US ones, possibly due to the strong influence of the state and little government regulation, but I don’t want to draw conclusions on a topic I simply don’t know enough about. Besides it’s not my place to compare the experiences of survivors like that.

Still, I was genuinely surprised to find so many positive memories reported by former US residential school students who felt they benefited from their time there. While conducting interviews for They Called it Prairie Light Tsianina Lomawaima revealed that former Chilocco students had nothing but good things to say about L. E. Correll, the school’s superintendent from 1926 to 1952. “The participants in this research concurred unanimously in their positive assessment of Correll’s leadership, a testimonial to his commitment to students and the school. Alumni references to Mr. Correll… all share a positive tone. He is described as Chilocco’s ‘driving force,’ ‘wonderful,’ [and] ‘a fine man, we called him ‘Dad Correll.'” I bring this up not to minimize the damage the schools did nor excuse the atrocities they committed, but to illustrate the complexity of this topic. It would also be disingenuous not include the wide range of experiences at these schools. Another student at Chilocco wrote a letter to a North Dakota Agency complaining of a broken collarbone and not enough to eat only to be told to stop “whining about little matters.” Another student refused to Chilocco explaining, “I could stay there [at Chilocco) if they furnished clothing and good food. I don’t like to have bread and water three times a day, and beside work real hard, then get old clothes that been wear for three years at Chilocco [sic]. I rather go back to Cheyenne School.”

Regardless, all the schools caused lasting damage to Indigenous culture and communities. What Canada and the US claimed called assimilation “more accurately should be called ethnic cleansing…” explains Dr. Jennifer Nez Denetdale a Najavo Professor of American Studies at the University of New Mexico. Pratt may have had good intentions, but remember what they say the road to hell is paved with. Much like voluntourism today attempts to “help” American Indians through assimilation were rooted in colonialism and hurt more than they helped. Forrest S. Cuch, former director of the Utah Division of Indian Affairs describes the damage done to his tribe, the Utes. “Assimilation affected the Utes in a very tragic way. It was so ineffective that it did not train us to become competent in the White World and it took us away from our own culture, so much so that we weren’t even competent as Indians anymore.” “Children do not understand their language and they’re Navajos. This was done to us.” explained Navajo/Dine elder Katherine Smith. Assimilation was nothing short of Cultural genocide as defined by the 2015 the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada:

“…the destruction of those structures and practices that allow the group to continue as a group. States that engage in cultural genocide set out to destroy the political and social institutions of the targeted group… Languages are banned. Spiritual leaders are persecuted, spiritual practices are forbidden, and objects of spiritual value are confiscated and destroyed. And, most significantly to the issue at hand, families are disrupted to prevent the transmission of cultural values and identity from one generation to the next.”

Residential boarding schools are yet another atrocity that remains suspiciously absent from American and Canadian history books, but they are popular in Indigenous horror (Rhymes for Young GhoulsThe Candy MeisterThese Walls), and for good reason. Survivors describe deplorable living conditions, rampant abuse, rape, starvation, and being torn away from their families and culture. Homesickness was a common problem for young children who had spent their entire lives surrounded by family. Ernest White Thunder, the son of chief White Thunder, became so homesick and depressed he refused to eat or take medicine until he finally died.

“Students arriving at Chilocco [Residential School] met the discrepancies between institutional life and family life at every turn. Military discipline entailed a high level of surveillance of students but constant adult supervision and control was impossible. The high ratio of students to adults and the comprehensive power wielded by those few adults compromised any flowering of surrogate parenting. In the dormitories, four adults might be responsible for over two hundred children. The loss of the parent/child relationship and the attenuated contact with school personnel reinforced bonds among the students, who forged new kinds of family ties within dorm rooms, work details, and gang territories. Dormitory home life-siblings and peers, living quarters and conditions, food and clothing, response to discipline-dominates narratives.”  (Tsianina Lomawaima)

Running away was common and could end tragically. Kathleen Wood shared one of her memories of students who ran away: “There were three boys that ran away from [Chuska Boarding School]. They wanted to go home… They were three brothers, they were from Naschitti. They ran away from here as winter… They did find the boys after a while, but the sad part is all three boys lost their legs.” Not everyone survived their attempts to return home, as was the tragic case for Chanie “Charlie” Wenjack (trigger warning for description of child death). At the Fort William Indian Residential School 6 children died and 16 more disappeared.

Indigenous children first entering residential school would often have their long hair cut short, an undoubtedly traumatic experience for many children. For the Cheyenne the cutting of hair is done as a sign of mourning and deathRoy Smith, a member of the Navajo Nation (Diné) where long hair is an essential part of one’s identity, describes his experience: “They all looked at me when they were giving me my haircut… My long hair falling off. And I was really hurt. The teaching from my grandfather was… your long hair is your strength, and your long hair is your wisdom, your knowledge.” Hair is also holds spiritual importance to the Nishnawbe Aski. An anonymous Nishnawbe Aski School survivor was left deeply hurt be her hair cut:

“When I was a girl. I had nice long black hair. My mother used to brush my hair for me and make braids. I would let the braids hang behind me or I would move them over my shoulders so they hung down front. I liked it when they were in front because I could see those little colored ribbons and they reminded me of my mother. Before I left home for residential school at Kenora my mother did my hair up in braids so I would look nice when I went to school. The first thing they did when I arrived at the school was to cut my braids off and throw them away. I was so hurt by their actions and I cried. It was as if they threw a part of me away – discarded in the garbage.” – Anonymous

***Content warning, descriptions of child abuse and sexual assault and an image of verbal abuse of a child below***

Students were severely beaten for not displaying unquestioning obedience and sometimes for no reason at all. Those in charge would constantly reinforce the message that Indigenous people were stupid, worthless, and inferior to Whites, destroying the children’s sense of self-worth. Some students were forced to kneel for long stretches of time, hold up heavy books in their outstretched arms, or locked in the basement for hours. Children would be force-fed spoiled meat and fish until they vomited, then forced to eat their own vomit. Some were even electrocuted. Chief Edmund Metatawabin recalls his experience at St. Anne’s Indian Residential School:

There was [an electric chair with] a metal handle on both sides you have to hold on to and there were brothers and sisters sitting around in the boys’ room. And of course the boys were all lined up. And somebody turned the power on and you can’t let go once the power goes on. You can’t let go… my feet were flying in front of me and I heard laughter. The nuns and the brothers were all laughing.” – Edmund Metatawabin

From 1992 until 1998 Ontario Provincial Police launched an investigation into the abuse at St. Anne’s Residential School after Chief Edmund Metatawabin presented them with evidence of the crimes. The police took statements from 700 St. Anne’s survivors, many of whom described incidents of sexual assault and abuse involving priests, nuns, and other staff. During her interview one survivor said “This shouldn’t have happened to us. They’re God’s workers, they were to look after us.” (link contains graphic descriptions of abuse). One figure estimates that one in five  students were sexually abused when attending residential school. But schools would cover up the abuse, and anyone who complained was intimidated into silence.

A priest is forcing a ball and chain, representing trauma, to a little girl in a residential school uniform. She is surrounded by red and orange speech bubbles saying cruel things like "Dirty Indian!," "Shut up! Stupid Girl! Do as you're told!," "Savage!," and "You're going to hell for your pagan beliefs. You need religion."

The verbal abuse shown here is paraphrased from actual things said to Residential school survivals. They are taken from interviews and autobiographies. If you or someone you know is being abused, go here. Learn more about forms of abuse here.

All this pain and suffering was committed under the pretense of “civilizing” Native people, when in reality it was Cultural Genocide driven by White supremacy. “The whole move was to make Indian children white… Of course, at the end of the school experience, the children still weren’t white. They were not accepted by White mainstream America. When they went back to their tribal homelands, they didn’t fit in at home anymore either.” says Kay McGowan, who teaches cultural anthropology at Eastern Michigan University. Inuvialuit author Margaret Pokiak-Fenton describes how her mother did not even recognize her when she returned home in her children’s book Not my Girl. As if the rejection wasn’t heart breaking enough, Margaret had forgotten much of her own language and struggled to communicate with her family. Another residential school survivor, Elaine Durocher, says “They were there to discipline you, teach you, beat you, rape you, molest you, but I never got an education…. [instead] it taught me how to lie, how to manipulate, how to exchange sexual favors for cash, meals, whatever the case may be.” In a video for Women’s Centre she volunteers at she discusses how “The teachers were always hitting us because we were just ‘stupid Indians'”.

***End of content warning***

“[People] need to know that it was an event that happened to a lot of kids, that it wasn’t just a few; it was literally thousands of kids that suffered. I’ve come to realize that there were also others where the experience for them was actually very good, and I don’t question that. I can only relate to mine. Mine wasn’t a good one, and I know a lot of really good friends who also did not have a good experience.” – Joseph Williams

In The Marrow Thieves the government and the church join forces to perform experiments on prisoners, and later Indigenous people, in order to find a cure for the dreamless plague. And if you were hoping that was just a metaphor for destroying cultural identities and real residential schools never sunk so low as to experiment on helpless children, well, you’d be wrong. Science has a dark history of exploiting the most vulnerable populations for unethical experiments. In the U.S. alone enslaved women were tortured and mutilated by the father of gynecology  without any form of anesthesia (1845-1849), the government backed Tuskegee syphilis experiment (1932-1972) infected hundreds of Black men without their knowledge or consent, a stuttering experiment (1939) performed on orphans is now known as “The Monster Study,” elderly Jewish patients were injected with liver cancer cells (1963) to “discover the secret of how healthy bodies fight the invasion of malignant cells,” and inmates in the Holmesburg Prison were used to test the effects of various toxic chemicals on skin (1951-1974).

In the 1920s experimental eyes surgeries to treat trachoma were conducted on Southwestern US Natives. The contagious eye disease became an epidemic on Southwestern reservations, affecting up to 40% of some tribal groups. “Some tribes, such as the Navajo, experienced no “sore eyes” prior to their defeat by the United States, yet once confined to the reservation, they witnessed a significant increase in unexplained eye problems.” (Trennert) GEE I WONDER WHY. Maybe it had something to do with being forced to live in poverty on shitty reservations where their access to healthcare and sanitation was limited? The government decided to “help” by once again making it worse. The Indian office opened an eye clinic and hired the Otolaryngologist Dr. Ancil Martin to run it. Dr. Martin began the student treatment program before he had any idea how to cure trachoma. He decided to test out a surgical procedure called “grattage” which involved cutting the granules off the eyelids (without anesthesia of coure). One little girl described the experience: “During the operation they cut off little rough things from under the eyelid. It was a grisly scene, with blood running all over. The children had to be held down tight.” (Trennert) Unfortunately the experimental treatment only provided temporary relief and those children who recovered where left with permanent damage to their eyelids. Later, as part of the “Southwestern Trachoma Campaign,” ophthalmologist Dr. Webster Fox convinced the Indian Office to take even more drastic measures and surgically remove the tarsus (the plate of connective tissue inside each eyelid that contributes to the eyelids form and support). His reasoning for this was because he did not believe Indians would submit to prolonged treatment and it was better to “remove the disease more quickly and with less deformity than the way Nature goes about it.” Yikes.

In case you were hoping this was a tragic but isolated incident, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. When giving testimony to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada survivors consistently described an environment where “hunger was never absent.” Residential school meals were typical low in calories (they ranged from 1000 to 1450 calories per day, undernourishment is considered less than 1,800 calories per day), vegetables, fruit, protein, and fat, all essential parts of a growing child’s diet. “We cried to have something good to eat before we sleep. A lot of the times the food we had was rancid, full of maggots, stink. Sometimes we would sneak away from school to go visit our aunts or uncles, just to have a piece of bannock.” explained school survivor Andrew Paul. Food-borne illnesses were another common occurrence. Although at least partly due to negligence or a lack of funds some schools intentionally withheld food to see how the children’s bodies would react to malnutrition, especially as they fought off viruses and infections. “When investigators came to the schools in the mid-1940s they discovered widespread malnutrition at both of the schools” explained food historian Dr. Ian Mosby. ” “In the 1940s, there were a lot of questions about what are human requirements for vitamins… Malnourished aboriginal people became viewed as possible means of testing these theories.” Mosby said an interview with the Toronto Star. And so Indigenous Canadian children became unwitting guinea pigs in an unethical study. Between 1942 and 1952 Dr. Percy Moore, head of the superintendent for medical services for the Department of Indian Affairs, and Dr. Frederick Tisdall, former president of the Canadian Pediatric Society performed illicit nutrition experiments on students at St. Mary’s School. Milk and dairy rations were withheld. Instead children were given a fortified flour mixture containing B vitamins and bone meal. The experimental supplement impacted their development and caused children to become dangerously anemic, and continued to have negative effects on them as adults. Incidentally, this experimental flour mix was illegal in the rest of Canada.

A decade later the U.S. Air Force’s Arctic Aeromedical Laboratory in Fairbanks wanted to study the role the thyroid gland played in acclimating humans to cold in hopes of improving their operational capability in cold environments. The hypothesis was that Alaskan Natives were somehow physically better adapted to cold environments than White people This is another example of scientific racism as the study didn’t bother looking at the White inhabitants of the Arctic Circle:  Greenlanders, who hypothetically should have a similar resistance to the cold. Instead, they chose to focus on Alaskan Natives almost as if they were a different species. The othering didn’t end there. Participants (84 Inuit, 17 Athabascan Indians, and 19 White service members) were given a medical tracer, the radioisotope iodine 131 to measure thyroid function. Guess who wasn’t told they were part of the experiment? Instead of informing the Indigenous test subjects they were participating in a research study as would’ve been required by the recently created Nuremberg Code (the first point in the code literally says “The voluntary consent of the human subject is absolutely essential”), the scientists just said “Fuck it, we do what we want!” I mean, it’s not like someone might want to know they were being given RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL or anything right? Not only did the experiment offer no potential benefit to the Alaskan Natives who participated but the original hypothesis was disproven. The Airforce provided no follow up tests or treatment for the test subjects to insure they hadn’t suffered any long-term effects.

Students at Kenora residential school were used as test subjects for ear infection drugs, again without their knowledge or consent. School nurse Kathleen Stewart wrote in her report “The most conspicuous evidence of ear trouble at Cecilia Jeffrey School has been the offensive odor of the children’s breath, discharging ears, lack of sustained attention, poor enunciation when speaking and loud talking,” In a follow-up report she noted three children “were almost deaf with no ear drums, six had [hearing in] one ear gone.”

Human research violations aren’t just a problem of the distant past before the IRB was established. In 1979 Native leaders asked researchers to help them assess the drinking problem in their community in Barrow, Alaska. They were hoping to cooperate with them to find a solution. Instead the researchers went ahead and publicly shared the results of the Barrow Alcohol Study with news outlets. Because the study implied the majority of adults in Barrow were alcoholics (which was inaccurate), left out the socioeconomic context which led to drinking problems, and then announced the results without representatives from the tribal community, it caused both a great deal of shame and direct financial harm. Starting in the 1990s, Arizona State University obtained blood from the Havasupai tribe under false pretenses. Instead of using the samples for diabetes research like they had promised the tribal members, researchers used the Havasupai’s DNA for a wide range of genetic studies. This continued until 2003 when a Havasupai college student discovered how the blood was being used without permission. Carletta Tilousi explained in an NPR Interview “Part of it is it was a part of my body that was taken from me, a part of my blood and a part of our bodies as Native-Americans are very sacred and special to us and we should respect it.”

Keeping all this in mind the dystopian future that Dimaline created suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched. Indigenous people have already had their land stolen, their graves robbed, their children kidnapped, and their culture appropriated. They’ve even had their blood taken under false pretenses. Indigenous children held prisoner in residential schools were deliberately starved and denied access to basic healthcare all in the name of science. The Marrow Thieves feels especially poignant right now, with the Americas experiencing (at the time of writing this) some of the highest Covid-19 rates in the world. Who would we sacrifice to find a cure? Pfizer, the company responsible for making one of the two currently available Covid vaccines did illegal human research as recently as the 90’s. “What does it mean when the disproportionate disease burden currently faced by Indigenous communities is, in large part, the product of a residential system that the TRC has found was nothing short of a cultural genocide?” asks Mosby. “In part, it means that we need to rethink the current behavioral and pharmacologic approaches… in Indigenous communities. In their place, we need more community-driven, trauma-informed and culturally appropriate interventions… [and] also acknowledge the role of residential schools in determining the current health problems faced by residential school survivors and their families…[M]ost importantly, we need to demand that the next generation of Indigenous children have access to the kinds of plentiful, healthy, seasonal and traditional foods that were denied to their parents and grandparents, as a matter of government policy” he argues.

The worst part about the residential school is that even after they closed, their legacy remained and the damage they did would affect future generations. A report entitled Indigenous Communities and Family Violence: Changing the Conversation states “The [Royal Commission on Aboriginals Peoples] named residential schools as a significant cause of family violence in Indigenous communities… and the intergenerational impacts of residential schools on the prevalence continues to be recognized…”. Many of the abused students became abusers themselves, taking out their pain, fear, and frustration on the younger children. After leaving the school, survivors continued to suffer from low self esteem, hopelessness, painful memories and severe mental, social, and emotional damage. Boarding school trauma was then passed down from parent to child and the cycle of abuse would continue.  Because the children were deprived of affection and family during their formative years, many of them left residential school emotionally stunted and unable to openly express love, even towards their own children.

“Few [students] came out of residential schools having learned good boundaries, and good boundaries included some sense of self-determination, sovereignty over your own body. They didn’t have any control over that, and they didn’t see people around with appropriate behavior and being respectful of them as human beings, that they were sacred. And they were abused. Children learn what they live and that was their life.” – Sylvia Maracle, executive director of the Ontario Federation of Indigenous Friendship Centres.

Add in loss of land, racism, poverty, and a lack of healthcare and support and you’re left with a complex system of trauma that’s stacked against Indigenous people and their recovery. A report prepared for the Aboriginal Healing Foundation entitled Aboriginal Domestic Violence in Canada states:

 “Social and political violence inflicted upon Aborigional children, families and communities by the state and the churches through the residential school system not only created the patterns of violence communities are now experiencing but also introduced the family and community to behaviors that are impeding collective recovery.”

In her award-winning autobiography They Called Me Number One writer and former Xat’sull chief Bev Sellars discusses the long-lasting damage to her done by St. Joseph’s Mission.  Sellars watched helplessly as her brother’s personality completely changed as a result of sexual abuse and he began to take out his rage and pain on her. Sellar’s own trauma affected the way she interacted with her three children. She practiced an authoritarian style of parenting she had learned from the school and expected her children to hide their pain instead of expressing it as she was forced to do. Because the only touch Sellars experienced at the residential school was painful and abusive she feared any form of physical contact and was unable to hug anyone until her own children were grown. She continued to fear disobeying any White person or authority figure and made her want her children to behave perfectly in front of Whites.

She describes how she suffered from panic attacks, migraines, nightmares, memory problems, emotional numbness, angry outbursts, shame and phobias after attending the residential school. Because her complaints of mistreatment were dismissed and summarily punished by those in charge, Sellars developed a learned helplessness and “why bother?” attitude. Years of brainwashing by the nuns and priests caused Sellars to see “the world through the tunnel vision of the mission” and led her to believe she was inferior because she was Indigenous. Those familiar with trauma will recognize these as PTSD symptoms commonly seen in survivors. Unfortunately, emotional and mental health were still poorly understood in the 1960s and medical services are limited on reservations forcing survivors like Sellars to find other ways to numb their pain.

***Content warning for image of depressive thoughts below***

The girl from earlier is now a grown woman. She looks depressed, is wearing dark clothing, and hugging herself. The ball and chain that represents trauma are chained around her ankle. Dark thoughts fill her head like: “I must have deserved it,” “Nothing will ever get better, what’s the point?,” “Maybe there really is something wrong with being Native…,””The pain will never stop. I’m so tired of it, I just want to be numb,” and “Everyone hurts me, I can’t trust anyone. I’m all alone.”

The ball and chain represent the trauma the residential school survivor has to carry around with her. Her thoughts are based on those common to people with trauma. Please contact a mental health provider (listed at the beginning and end of the review) if you have similar thoughts.

***End of content warning***

In The Marrow Thieves Wab eventually shares how her mother became addicted to alcohol and later crack cocaine. The stress of living in a dirty, overcrowded military state while trying not to starve or get taken away by the school staff became too much for her. Wab wonders if her mother could feel herself dying and just gave up. Alcohol and drugs are frequently abused by those who’ve experienced trauma or have untreated mental illness. In fact, childhood abuse is prevalent among alcoholics, and children who experience trauma are four to twelve times more likely to engage in substance abuse. Sellars’ brother never recovered from the sexual abuse he experienced at the hands of the priests and developed an addiction to alcohol. Others survivors die by suicide. According to the CDC the suicide rate among adolescent American Indians is more than twice the U.S. average and the highest of any ethnic groups. Amanda Blackhorse explains “…we’re still feeling the effects of boarding schools today… and it has completely demolished the Indigenous familial system. And many of our people are suffering and they don’t… realize that they are suffering from the boarding school system. Many of us don’t even understand it…”

However, while alcoholism is definitely a problem in Native populations the stereotype of the “drunken Indian” is no more than a harmful myth. Indigenous people aren’t “genetically more susceptible to alcoholism” and American Indians are actually more likely to abstain from alcohol that Whites.

 “The participants in this study talked about historical trauma as an ongoing problem that is at the root of substance abuse issues in their families and communities. Further, the participants believed their experiences to be shared or common among other AI families and communities. Feelings about historical trauma among the participants, their families, and/or their communities included disbelief that these events could have happened, sadness, and fear that such events could recur; however, there also were messages about strength and survival.” – Laurelle L. Myhra

This huge, horrible thing that scarred thousands of survivors and had long lasting effects for Indigenous populations is almost entirely unknown outside of Native, Inuit and Métis communities, and the Canadian Government continues to underfund education and health services for Indigenous children. But there are many Indigenous people, like Bev Sellars, who are not just surviving, but flourishing, and in turn helping others to recover. Indigenous founded and run groups such as The National Indigenous Women’s Resource CenterFreedom LodgeIndigenous Circle of Wellness, and Biidaaban Healing Lodge, are all working to heal generational trauma by combining traditional Indigenous healing practices and modern trauma-informed therapy to create a holistic approach to wellness and mental health. Horror and Apocalyptic Fiction has also given Indigenous creators a way to process this generational trauma and make a wider audience aware of these historical atrocities. But even with everything Indigenous people have suffered through, they’re still here. The Marrow Thieves similarly ends on a hopeful note with Frenchie and his friends holding their heads high as they march into the future.

The woman is now older, wearing bright clothing, and looks happy. She has a Native-made T-shirt that says “you are sacred.” The speech and though bubbles all have bright colors. People are giving the woman positive affirmations like “You aren’t alone,” “You deserve to be happy,” and “Don’t measure yourself by colonizer standards.” Her thoughts are happy now instead of dark. The woman thinks “I don’t need permission to speak, exist, or take up space,” “My language, beliefs, and culture are not ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’,” “What was done to me was not my fault and it does not define me,” and “I am strong. I am brave. I have value.”

The girl from the residential school is all grown up, and with the support from her community has started to heal. Her trauma, now represented by a balloon to show the “weight” of it is now gone, is still there but is no longer impeding her ability to enjoy life. She finally feels free to celebrate her Chippewa culture and heritage, as reflected by her bright clothing and long braids. Her T-shirt is from Choctaw journalist and artist Johnnie Jae’s collection. Her skirt is based on the work of Chippewa fashion designer Delina White. Her scarf has a floral Chippewa design.

Sources:

Unspoken: America’s Native American Boarding Schools, PBS, 2016

The Indian Problem, The Smithsonian, 2016

In the White Man’s Image, PBS, 1992

Bopp, J., Bopp, M., and Lane, P.  Aboriginal Domestic Violence in Canada. The Aboriginal Healing Foundation. 2003. https://epub.sub.uni-hamburg.de/epub/volltexte/2009/2900/pdf/aboriginal_domestic_violence.pdf

Dunbar-Ortiz, Roxanne. An Indigenous People’s History of the United States. Boston: Beacon Press, 2014.

Fortunate Eagle, Adam. Pipestone: My Life in an Indian Boarding School. University of Oklahoma Press, 2010.

Health Justice, Daniel. Why Indigenous Literature Matters. Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2018.

Holmes, C. and Hunt, S. Indigenous Communities and Family Violence: Changing the ConversationNational Collaborating Center for Aboriginal Health, 2017.  https://www.nccih.ca/docs/emerging/RPT-FamilyViolence-Holmes-Hunt-EN.pdf

Jordan-Fenton, C. and Pokiak-Fenton, M. Not My Girl. Annick Press, 2014.

Jordan-Fenton, C. and Pokiak-Fenton, M. Fatty Legs. Annick Press, 2010.

Mihesuah, Devon A. American Indians Stereotypes & Realities. 1996. Reprint. Atlanta: Clarity Press, 2009.

Mihesuah, Devon A. So you Want to Write About American Indians?: A Guide for Writers, Students, and Scholars. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2005.

Pember, Mary Annette. “Death by Civilization.” Atlantic, 8 March. 2019.

https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2019/03/traumatic-legacy-indian-boarding-schools/584293/

Robertson, David Alexander. Sugar Falls: A Residential School Story. Highwater Press, 2012.

Sellars, Bev. They Called Me Number One: Secrets and Survival at an Indian Residential School. Talonbooks, 2013.

Sterling, Sherling. My Name is Seepeetza. Groundwood Books, 1992.

Trafzer, C. E., Keller, J.A., eds. Boarding School Blues: Revisiting American Indian Educational Experiences. Bison Books, 2006.

Treuer, Anton. Everything You Wanted to Know about Indians But Were Afraid to Ask. St Paul: Minnesota Historical Society Press, 2012.

Tsianina Lomawaima, K. They Called It Prairie Light: The Story of Chilocco Indian School. University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

Robinson-Desjarlais, Shaneen (host). Residential Schools Podcast Series. Audio podcast, February 21, 2020. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools-podcast-series

Dawson, Alexander S. “Histories and Memories of the Indian Boarding Schools in Mexico, Canada, and the United States.” Latin American Perspectives 39, no. 5 (2012): 80-99. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41702285.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Harper Voyager

Genre: Psychological Horror, Sci-Fi Horror, Thriller

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Lesbian/queer characters and author, Biracial Black character 

Takes Place in: another planet

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Medical Torture/Abuse, Medical Procedures, Mental Illness,  Self-Harm, Attempted Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

“This claustrophobic, horror-leaning tour de force is highly recommended for fans of Jeff VanderMeer’s Annihilation and Andy Weir’s The Martian.” — Publishers Weekly (starred review)
***

A thrilling, atmospheric debut with the intensive drive of The Martian and Gravity and the creeping dread of Annihilation, in which a caver on a foreign planet finds herself on a terrifying psychological and emotional journey for survival.

When Gyre Price lied her way into this expedition, she thought she’d be mapping mineral deposits, and that her biggest problems would be cave collapses and gear malfunctions. She also thought that the fat paycheck—enough to get her off-planet and on the trail of her mother—meant she’d get a skilled surface team, monitoring her suit and environment, keeping her safe. Keeping her sane.

Instead, she got Em.
Em sees nothing wrong with controlling Gyre’s body with drugs or withholding critical information to “ensure the smooth operation” of her expedition. Em knows all about Gyre’s falsified credentials, and has no qualms using them as a leash—and a lash. And Em has secrets, too . . .
As Gyre descends, little inconsistencies—missing supplies, unexpected changes in the route, and, worst of all, shifts in Em’s motivations—drive her out of her depths. Lost and disoriented, Gyre finds her sense of control giving way to paranoia and anger. On her own in this mysterious, deadly place, surrounded by darkness and the unknown, Gyre must overcome more than just the dangerous terrain and the Tunneler which calls underground its home if she wants to make it out alive—she must confront the ghosts in her own head.

But how come she can’t shake the feeling she’s being followed?

The Luminous Dead is a survival horror story with only two characters, one location, and no antagonist. It’s also one of the most stressful horror stories I’ve ever read. Starling is a master of playing with the reader’s paranoia, building up the suspense and atmosphere until you’re jumping at every sound and shadow. Ironically, The Luminous Dead also managed to calm me down considerably when I was dealing with my own stressful situation (horror is great for anxiety): spending the night in the ER awaiting an emergency cholecystectomy (after my wife told me it was nothing and we weren’t spending $4,000 at the ER just because I had stomach cramps that were probably just from drinking milk, and why hadn’t I just taken the Lactaid tablets she bought me). After managing to survive a severely infected gallbladder, I assumed that 2020 could only be uphill from there. Poor, naïve past me.  

In the first panel I'm lying in a hospital bed looking worn out. "Well at least 2020 can't be any worse than 2019." I say. In the second panel I'm sleeping peacfully, when suddenly I'm woken up in the third panel by evil laughter. In the 4th panel the demonic laughing continues while I hide under the blankets and ask "Where is that laughing coming from?"

Well at least none of my organs exploded in 2020, so there’s that…

In the future, humanity has spread out across the stars, but sadly it’s not the socialist utopia dreamed of in Star Trek. Gyre lives on a barren, back-water mining planet where poverty is rampant and the only escape is to take a job as a caver for wealthy mining companies. It’s not a pleasant job. On top of spending days or even weeks in a self-contained suit with little human interaction, breathing recycled air, and being fed through a stomach stoma, these subterranean explorers have to contend with falls, cave-ins, and underground flooding. Worst of all are the Tunnelers – giant alien worms that burrow through solid stone. Not many cavers survive, but those who do can expect a huge payout. In Gyre’s case, it’s enough to get her off-world to find the mother who abandoned her as a child. Desperate, uncertified, and inexperienced, she accepts an especially sketchy caving job that doesn’t ask too many questions. It’s not until Gyre has already begun her descent into the subterranean labyrinth she’s been hired to explore that she discovers she may have made a grave mistake. Instead of having an entire team topside to monitor her vitals, feed her info, and watch her while she sleeps, which is the standard, she has only one woman, Em. Cold, efficient, controlling, and stingy with details, Em is not above obfuscating data and manipulating her cavers to get the job done. Not exactly someone you want to trust with your life. Em seems to genuinely want to protect Gyre even if her methods are questionable, but that hardly excuses the lying and manipulation which only serve to exacerbate the young caver’s trust issues. Not that Gyre is much better. Her desperation means she’s willing to make some morally questionable decisions, and her stubbornness leads to her making bad ones.

A drawing of Gyre in her suit. She's in the cave and is looking at two skulls on the ground, horrified. Em is on the intercom saying "Don't worry Gyre, it's perfectly safe. Trust me!"

The background is from a cave in the Dominican Republic I visited back in February 2020. There weren’t any skulls in it though. *sigh* I miss travel.

As if paranoia, isolation, and giant monsters aren’t scary enough, Starling adds another twist: there may or may not be something sinister going on in the cave as Gyre’s senses start to play tricks on her. Maybe it’s another one of Em’s deceptions. For most of the book, you’re genuinely unsure of where the biggest threat is coming from: the cave, Em, or Gyre’s own mindknowing she’s all alone in the dark unknown (or is she?) with only one less-than-trustworthy guide. Although Gyre never fully trusts Em, the two begin to form a distrustful, dysfunctional relationship over time as they reveal and struggle with past traumas. And yes, their trauma bond is just as maladjusted as it sounds. It’s both fascinating and horrifying to watch these two deeply flawed, fucked up people grow closer. Part of me was rooting for Gyre and Em because, when everything is awful, people deserve every bit of happiness they can get. But the more rational part of me was horrified. Shared suffering does not mean two people will be compatible and without trust issues, and on top of Em’s willingness to put Gyre in danger, there are the hallmarks of a toxic relationship. To Starling’s credit, she doesn’t try to create an idealized romance, or even imply that their bond is healthy like certain romance books that will remain nameless tend to do *cough*Twilight*cough*. Instead she aims to create two realistic, flawed characters who are doing their best in a bad situation. I’m a huge fan of antiheroes and morally gray characters in fiction (in real life they’re just assholes) because they’re rarely bland or boring, and Gyre and Em are anything but dull. Watching a caver with trust issues put her life in the hands of a woman who lies just makes the story all the more suspenseful.

Part of the reason Gyre acts the way she does is because she grew up in survival mode. Living in a barren, capitalist hellhole will do that to a person. Like any good work of science fiction, The Luminous Dead uses fictional characters in a fictional setting to draw attention to some very real-world ethical dilemmas. In this case, it’s the exploitation of the poor and vulnerable in a Capitalist society. Dubbed 3K jobs in Japan (kitanai, kiken, kitsui or dirty, dangerous, and difficult in English) this sort of work has traditionally been given to immigrants, migrant workers, and other vulnerable populations who have few options available to earn a living and are less likely to complain about unsafe working environments. Dangerous jobs that require specialized skills and training, such as construction and steel working jobs, pay better salaries and are more likely to be OSHA compliant, but rarely pay enough to offset the risk. Sex work can be a 3K job that pays well, but leaves sex workers open to arrest, abuse, and disease without legal protections in place. While workers aren’t being forced into these jobs per se (as opposed to victims of trafficking, domestic servitude, debt bondage, and other forms of slavery) they’re not usually done by people who have other options available. In The Luminous Dead, caver jobs are only ever taken by those in poverty (the wealthy would never risk their lives doing such dangerous work) and no one continues caving after they’ve made enough to escape. So is it really a choice when you’re between Scylla and Charybdis?

A drawing of Odysseus' ship passing between Scylla (a monstrous woman with six dog's heads around her waist and six serpents head's with shark's teeth coming out of her back) and Charybdis (a giant whirlpool). Someone on the ship is saying "FML".

Scylla wasn’t that big but she’s also not real so I can draw her however I want lol

I can’t describe much more of the plot, as spoilers would ruin the suspense Starling worked so hard to create, but suffice it to say that The Luminous Dead is, at its core, about the trauma of losing a mother, whether from abandonment or death, and how anger and grief can destroy you. If you love isolation horror, definitely pick up a copy of your own.

F4 by Larissa Glasser

F4 by Larissa Glasser

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Eraser Head Press

Genre: Blood & Guts, Body Horror, Monster, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Trans women, Bisexual women, Queer women

Takes Place in: North Atlantic ocean

Content Warnings (Highlight to view):  Bullying, Drug Use/Abuse, Death,  Forced Captivity, Gore, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Mention of Medical Procedures, Police Harassment, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Slurs, Stalking, Suicide, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence 

Blurb

A cruise ship on the back of a sleeping kaiju. A transgender bartender trying to come terms with who she is. A rift in dimensions known as The Sway. A cruel captain. A storm of turmoil, insanity and magic is coming together and taking the ship deep into the unknown. What will Carol the bartender learn in this maddening non-place that changes bodies and minds alike into bizarre terrors? What is the sleeping monster who holds up the ship trying to tell her? What do Carol’s fractured sense of self and a community of internet trolls have to do with the sudden pull of The Sway?

Please note: This review was written before I was out as genderqueer. In the review I refer to myself as not being part of the trans/non-binary community. This inaccurate. 

The horror genre is not generally kind to trans-women, frequently depicting them as serial killers and/or sexual deviants. Hell, fiction in general doesn’t treat trans people well, forcing them into a victim role and focusing on their angst and dysphoria. So you can imagine how unbelievably excited I was when I learned that Eraserhead Press was publishing a horror story about a bad ass trans woman who fights monsters and alt-right trolls. Even better, it was being written by a trans woman! Glasser is  a librarian from Boston which makes her five-hundred times cooler in my eyes (I love librarians, they’re like keepers of secret knowledge and they know everything). The reviews for F4 have so far been unanimously positive, the premise sounded weird and awesome, and it promised representation rarely found in the horror genre. F4 was like everything I had wished for and I could not pre-order it fast enough.

Well, apparently whatever jinni decided to grant my wish for an awesome trans-lady horror story written by a trans person was one of those dick bag jinn who likes to pull that Monkey’s Paw shit, because I haven’t been this disappointed since I first saw Star Wars Episode One after months of hype.

 

I’m clutching handfuls of blue bills and angrily screaming at the Djinn from the Wishmaster film series who is looking please with himself. I yell “Why the FUCK would I wish for $100,000 in Zimbabwe dollars you unbelievable asshole!?!”

I guess I’m just lucky the Djinn didn’t give me $10,000 in pennies that fell from the sky and crushed me to death.

Carol, the main character of the story, is a trans-woman who works as a bartender on the Finasteride, a cruise ship built on the back of the F4. This name does not, in fact, come from one of those computer function keys that no one ever uses for anything (except maybe the F5 key), but instead refers to the last of four kaiju that mysteriously appeared on earth and fucked up a bunch of stuff. Okay, so far so good. Then, all of a sudden, everyone on board starts turning into eldritch abominations… and thus begins a confusing clusterfuck of unexplained randomness. The transformations may or may not have something to do with a dimensional rift called the Sway, which isn’t mentioned prior to everything going to hell, is never fully explained, and may or may not be common knowledge in the book’s world.  Carol’s creepy boss and his even creepier buddy are behind everything, because they want to sail into the Sway, but their motivation is never explained beyond some vague lust for power. Well, if it works for Saturday morning cartoon villains I guess it’s fine. There’s also a wizard who lives in the Sway and can control the Kaiju, who we’ve also never heard of before and who also isn’t really explained. Again, it’s really unclear whether this is common knowledge or not, or if the Sway is actually just some giant, extra-dimensional plot hole and we’re just expected to go with it. The weirdest part is that even though the wizard controls the kaiju, he isn’t evil despite his giant beasts killing millions of people. One of them even destroyed New York City looking for Carol (why though!?!), but fuck all those victims, I guess? Why is no one horrified by all this? Oh, and apparently Carol’s penis is some sort of magical flesh key or something, I don’t even know. Maybe her penis’ magic is why she gets erections constantly (and won’t shut up about it), despite having had an orchidectomy. Usually, having your testicles removed or going on testosterone blockers causes penis-having folk to have very few spontaneous erections (and some stop getting erections all together) so it seems really odd that Carol keeps getting constant danger boners (which would be an awesome band name) but I’m hardly an expert, so whatever.

In addition to her bartending duties, Carol also makes sex videos on the side with her friend Chole, another transwoman whom she’s slightly obsessed with. Carol’s wait staff of trans women, or “lady dicks” as she calls them, also make extra cash “servicing” the passengers of the Finasteride. This is the part that made me feel really weird. Frequently when trans people appear in fiction, it’s as some sort of sex worker, and they’re being written by cis folk who have little understanding of, or respect for both trans women or sex workers. It’s such a cliché that cops will actually harass trans women on the street because they assume they’re prostitutes. So having the majority of the trans women in a story do some sort of sex work felt problematic, especially since most of the clients appeared to consider them a fetish rather than real people. It certainly doesn’t help that Carol doesn’t even seem to like doing web-cam work, and is only tolerating it because Chole pressured her into making porn. I enjoy naked people having sexy fun times as much as the next person, especially when those people are queer and/or non-binary, and one of the things that originally drew me to F4 was the promise of erotica with trans-ladies. But when the participants are being pressured, exploited, or fetishized, porn is just gross. F4 felt more like the later. The sex scenes aren’t even arousing. One involves a toothless dude drooling in Carol’s ass crack as she feels uncomfortable and wishes it were over. Ick. Chole also gets sexually assaulted by one of the kaiju’s parasites in a really uncomfortable scene (which I think was supposed to be humorous?) and Carol does exactly jack and shit to help her friend. Maybe weird, unappealing sex is a staple of bizarro fiction, but trans women are disrespected enough in the porn industry, I was really hoping it wouldn’t happen here too.

The comic is titled “Trying to find trans porn.” The first panel says, “what I expected” and depicts me blushing and looking aroused while I imagine two women of color, one of whom is plus-sized, in an intimate situation looking lovingly at each color. The second panels says, “What I got” and shows me recoiling in horror and disgust from my laptop. A toxic green speech bubble reveals what is written on the screen, and is full of transphobic language like “Tr***y Sex”, “Trap Hentai”, and “Lady boys”.

F4 isn’t like the terrible, transphobic porn you might find online, but it’s not particularly good erotica either.

My confusion regarding the story line made it difficult to focus on the book (as did the frequent mention of dicks), and I probably would’ve given up on it completely if not for part two, the saving grace of F4. Part two is proof that Glasser really is a talented author. Instead of getting a bunch of random nonsense throw at us we get an intriguing and suspenseful, but straight forward story of Carol’s life prior to the Finasteride. Her character suddenly feels relatable. She’s dating a loser she can’t seem to dump, living in the middle of nowhere, and trying to figure out what to do with her life. Carol witnesses a murder, and tries to do the right thing by reporting it to the cops. But since no good deed goes unpunished, she finds herself in the media spot light after becoming a key witness in the murder case, and becomes a victim of an online hate campaign by a bunch of transphobic trolls. Part 2 is great! It’s intriguing, suspenseful, we finally get some explanations about what’s going on, and of course Glasser had to go and ruin it by making part 3 even more random and confusing. This just made me hate the rest of the book even more because I now knew I could’ve been enjoying a well-written story about a trans woman vs. a bunch of internet trolls, and dealing with the dilemma of being punished for doing the right thing. But instead I had to put up with awkward sex, magical girl dicks, and a series of loosely connected plot holes. So I became bitter and sulkily rushed through the third part of the story, desperate to find some of the magic from Part 2. The only thing that redeemed part 3 was Carol killing the two entitled dudebros who fucked everyone over for more power, one of whom was the leader of the internet trolls who ruined her life. That was immensely satisfying.

So yeah, I really didn’t like this book. Of course, I’m not trans (well, I am, but I wasn’t out when I first wrote this), so it’s possible my privilege was preventing me from recognizing the appeal of F4. All the reviews I had read online were overwhelming positive, so what was I missing? Was it just not intended for me? So I went to my friend, Ashley Rogers (who you may remember from the Oddity post), for help. I figured since she’s an author herself, a trans sensitivity reader, and a trans rights activist she’d be able to offer some valuable insight. Although Ashley is currently busy working on SCOWL: Fight for your Rights, a subversive, queer-focused, stage combat piece (I designed the logo so I have to shamelessly pimp the project), she was kind enough to take some time out of her busy schedule to share her opinion with me. I also asked her to explain what Glasser meant when she kept talking about “hatching eggs”, but Ashley didn’t know either, nor did any of the other trans and non-binary people I asked, and I eventually had to resort to Reddit and Urban Dictionary.

I’m climbing through the window of my friend, Ashley Roger’s, apartment (presumably having broken in). “Ashley help! What does it mean for a trans person to “hatch”? Are magical dicks empowering or weird? What about trans porn?” I ask. Ashley, a tall woman with a fashionable blue top, blond-streaked, shoulder length hair, and expertly done make-up, is sitting on the couch and leaning away from me, looking annoyed. “How do you keep getting in here?” she demands.

It turns out “eggs” refer to closeted trans folk still struggling with their identity who have not yet come into their own.

Ashley had the following to say:

First a disclaimer: Trans/n-b folk can and should be able to tell whatever stories we want.  I love bizarre and spooky material, and I want trans folk to succeed, and regardless of my feelings on this novel I am excited to see more from Larissa Glasser…
Buuuuuuuut…

My main criticism is that the piece doesn’t seem to know what it wants or who it’s written for. F4 intends to shock (evidenced by the material referenced in the piece such as Cannibal Holocaust and The Human Centipede) but it falls short of living up to those expectations.  We don’t live in the uncomfortable moments and grotesque situations long enough to care.  At most we’re left with a sense of “ok… That’s fucked up,” but then we move on to something else before we have a chance to feel unsettled.

Part two feels like a completely different (and subjectively better) novel entirely.  I was gripped by the backstory and it had a great flow, and some of the concepts are really cool (Hell, it’s about turning a Kaiju into a cruise liner!!), but as a trans woman I couldn’t help but be bored by how often Carol popped a boner in the face of danger.  One of the positive critiques I’ve seen from other trans women is that it’s a story that isn’t about a trans character who’s sad, angry, and depressed about surgical transition/dysphoria but the way the author focuses on Carol’s anatomy and overly sexual descriptions rather than creating the atmosphere distracts from the story and intriguingly bizarre concept of the piece in the same way these other pieces focus on the tragedy porn that gets written about our physical transition struggles.  If this book was all part two I would be writing a very different statement but… I wish it were either more shocking in execution or more approachable in material, but as it stands it sits in limbo of both.

I won’t lie, I feel genuinely guilty about not liking F4. I mean, everyone else loves it, and I want to be supportive of trans and non-binary folk in a cis-centric genre, but I just could not enjoy the story. I had no idea what was going on half the time, a lot of it just seemed to be weird for the sake of weirdness and contributed nothing to the story, and, the sex scenes felt more gross and exploitative than sexy and empowering. I liked the ideas behind F4, but the execution left a lot to be desired. Glasser clearly has talent as a writer, as is evident from part 2 of the story, so maybe I just don’t like bizzaro horror, I don’t know.  At the very least I can say it’s like nothing I’ve ever read before. In the mean time, I’m going to stick to reading Nerve Endings when I’m in the mood for some well written trans erotica.

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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.

Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology edited by Aquino Loayza

Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology edited by Aquino Loayza

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Third Estate Books

Genre: Body Horror, Folk Horror, Myth and Folklore, Psychological Horror, Sci-Fi Horror, Slahser/Killer

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Autistic characters and authors, trans, two-spirit, agender and non-binary characters and authors, gay characters, asexual author and characters, Mexican American author and character, Latinx authors, biracial Filipino and Taiwanese author, Afro-Indigenous author

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Ableism, Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Eating Disorder, Gaslighting, Gore, Illness, Medical Torture/Abuse, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse,  Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Suicide, Torture, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Deep in the recesses of our minds are twisted realities that so closely mirror our own. In these pages, our nightmares are laid bare, made to manifest. There is no waking up; there is no going back once you fall into the tapestry of terrors that await. Are you ready? From courteous neighbors gone awry to the burning brightness of everlasting daylight comes Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology reflective of the vast array of neurodivergent artists in our community and the things that keep them up in the night, the things they can’t look away from.

Don’t Blink.

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.

Unfortunately, to review this, I do have to address some of the drama surrounding it. Anyone in the horror book sphere has probably heard it and it might turn some folks off this amazing anthology. However, you may not have heard about how Third Estate Books addressed it, and you shouldn’t pass on this book just because of a few bad apples.

One of the anthology’s original authors, Zach Rosenberg, was revealed to have a history of harassing and bullying women and femme identifying people. Writer and editor Evelyn Freeling details the harassment she received from Zach Rosenberg here. After Rosenberg posted a non-apology the next day Mattie Lewis shared her own negative experience with the author. Shortly afterward it was revealed that one of the editors of the anthology, Freydis Moon, had been impersonating a Latine person to sell their books and bullying others online. You can find details of the Freydis Moon controversy here. Third Estate Books released statements that both Moon and Rosenberg had been removed from Spectrum and that they would have no place on any other projects moving forward. Therefore, I would still recommend this book, as the publisher has taken steps to ensure the safety of everyone involved and removed anyone problematic. Now, on to the review!

I was happy to see that many of the authors and characters in the book were trans, agender, or non-binary (not surprising since trans and gender diverse folks are up to six times more likely to be autistic). There was also some BIPOC representation with Asian, Latine, and Afro-Indigenous authors, though I would have liked to have seen more. The stories were a very interesting mix. Some were straightforward and followed a classic story structure, while others felt more like stream of consciousness writing and focused more on  the poetic words used than forming a coherent plot (Survive Lot 666, Neighborly, and Discourses of the Seven Headed Monkey come to mind). But both styles worked well. A few of my favorites were Freedom was a Flaying by Onyx Osiris, Curse the Darkness by Die Booth, and The Sun Approaches Every Summer by Akis Linardos. The first of these stories was a violent revenge story where the bullies get violently massacred by the Aztec flayed god, Xipe Totec. I love revenge stories, and this one was particularly satisfying and twisted with a nice nod to the author’s heritage. Booth’s story was more of a “be careful what you wish for” tale, a genre of story I also greatly enjoy. The Sun Approaches Every Summer was particularly unique where a man with magical abilities slowly watches the town he lives in die because the sun is getting too close. As the townspeople fear witches, he’s forced to mask, hiding both his autism and his magical abilities. It reminded me of the Twilight episode The Midnight Sun, except in this story the protagonist is the only one immune to the heat due to his magic and is eventually the only one left alive.

The last story in the anthology, Different by Ashley Lezak, is one of only two in which autism is central to the story. In it, a little autistic girl named Abigail is “cured” by her parents who want a “normal” child.  One of ASAN’s (the Autistic Self Advocacy Network) core beliefs is that “autism cannot and should not be cured.” One thing many allistic and non-disabled people don’t seem to grasp is that Autism is part of who a person is and eliminating that would fundamentally change who they are. As Andrew Pulrang explained in an article for Forbes entitled What Do Disabled People Mean When We Say We Don’t Want A Cure? ,”Life without disabilities may at times have its attractions. It’s something that can be interesting, even fun to speculate about. But since it would often fundamentally change who we are, it’s not always a 100% attractive prospect.” The desire to “cure” autism is similar to the appeal of gay conversion therapy. Parents who can’t love their children as they are try to change them to be more “normal,” someone they can accept. This is what makes Lezak’s short story so frightening: the idea that not only can parents not love and accept their child as they are, but that they would fundamentally change her as a person without her consent. And while the procedure Ashley undergoes is fictional, it’s not too far removed from the lobotomies performed on unwilling patients until the 1970s to change their personalities and even sexual orientation.

The other one is Safe Food by Xochilt Avila, in which a teen named Cedar struggles with their avoidant and restrictive food intake disorder (unfortunately many autistic people also have eating disorders) and an abusive father. What their father doesn’t understand is that it’s not that Cedar doesn’t want to eat, it’s that they have such severe sensory issues around taste there are only certain foods they can palate, none of which their father ever gives them. This story is another example of how badly parents can treat their autistic children (although in Cedar’s case their dad probably would have been abusive even if they were neurotypical). Unfortunately, it isn’t uncommon for autistic individuals to be abused, and their abuse is often blamed on their “challenging behaviors” rather than society’s ableism. Often the media will portray the abuser with sympathy as they were “burdened” with having an autistic child.

But those were the only two stories that felt like they made autism and autistic issues major plot points. The others chose to focus more on undead creatures, migraines, curses, abandoned buildings with dead whales, monkey gods, music, haunted houses and a head in a box. And honestly, I like that. While autism is part of someone’s identity, it’s only one part and Spectrum allows its authors to be their full selves rather than just focusing on their autism. I also really enjoyed seeing how differently autism manifested in each of the fictional characters, underlying how autism really is a broad spectrum. Some had severe sensory issues requiring soft clothing and ear protectors, others didn’t. Some struggled socially, others did not. Some characters had trouble with eye contact while others didn’t. Some were single, while others in committed relationships (there seems to be a myth that autistic people don’t date or have sex, which is patently untrue). There was no “one size fits all.” Autism is just one aspect of their personalities instead of all it, like is often the case when neurodiverse characters are written by neurotypicals. But their autism also wasn’t downplayed like it didn’t matter at all. They got to be multidimensional people.

The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum

The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: ECW Press

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Sci-Fi

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Indian Canadian author and characters

Takes Place in: BC, Canada

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw

Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Tor

Genre: Body Horror, Eldritch, Monster, Occult, Psychological Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Queer character (Gay woman), POC characters (Black, Creole woman, unknown POC character), Bisexual author, Malaysian author

Takes Place in: London

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Body-Shaming, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Death, Gore, Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

John Persons is a private investigator with a distasteful job from an unlikely client. He’s been hired by a ten-year-old to kill the kid’s stepdad, McKinsey. The man in question is abusive, abrasive, and abominable.

He’s also a monster, which makes Persons the perfect thing to hunt him. Over the course of his ancient, arcane existence, he’s hunted gods and demons, and broken them in his teeth.


As Persons investigates the horrible McKinsey, he realizes that he carries something far darker. He’s infected with an alien presence, and he’s spreading that monstrosity far and wide. Luckily Persons is no stranger to the occult, being an ancient and magical intelligence himself. The question is whether the private dick can take down the abusive stepdad without releasing the holds on his own horrifying potential.

During one of my late-night explorations of the internet (when I should have been sleeping but was instead googling all the random thoughts that pop into my head at 2 AM) I stumbled upon the work of Malaysian author Cassandra Khaw, a nerdy, queer woman who writes video games and short horror stories. Instantly intrigued, I purchased one of her novellas, Hammers on Bone, and I have to say, I fell absolutely, head-over-heels in love with Khaw’s writing. Her beautifully crafted stories are full of wonderful words like “penumbra” and “ululation” (one of my favorite Latin derived words), deliciously grotesque descriptions, and unique characters. English is Khaw’s third language, yet she uses it with a mastery that puts even native English speakers to shame. Her writing has a lot of range, too. These Deathless Bones is a feminist fairy tale about a witch getting sweet revenge on her wicked stepson. Rupert Wong, Cannibal Chef is a comedic splatterpunk series, as hilarious as it is gory, about the misadventures of the titular chef who prepares decadent meals of human flesh for gods and ghouls and gets wrapped up in international deity politics. Khaw has even dabbled in chick-lit (while also managing to poke fun at the more problematic elements of the genre) with her book, Bearly a Lady, about a bisexual, plus size wear-bear that works at a faerie-run fashion magazine. Then there’s her Persona Non Grata series. Much like Victor LaValle’s The Ballad of Black Tom, Khaw’s novellas take place in a Lovecraft inspired universe, but she flips the famously racist HP the bird by putting people of color at the forefront and using his creations to address social issues like racism, poverty, and abuse. Both stories feature the private investigator, John Persons, one of the most interesting characters I’ve come across in horror fiction. It’s the first of Person’s two novellas, Hammers on Bone, that I’ll be reviewing here.

Persons speaks and acts like the “hardboiled detective” characters from 1930s pulp magazines, complete with dated American vernacular and machismo, despite living in modern day London. This makes John seem incredibly out of place and occasionally downright ridiculous, like when he describes a little boy running into his arms for a hug as “crashing into me like a Russian gangster’s scarred-over fist.” When he’s not working as a PI, John spends his time saving the world from destruction by Star Spawn and Elder-Things. He’s adept at using magic, smokes cigarettes to dull his inhumanly strong sense of smell, enjoys the cold, and can pick up memories from objects and people through physical contact. He also happens to be a Dead One (though not one of the Great Old Ones, Persons is quick to explain), an otherworldly creature whose true, terrifying form comfortably possesses resides in a human body which he shares with the ghost of its previous inhabitant. I bet that’s why he has the most unimaginative, made-up sounding name ever; it was probably the first thing that popped into his head when he started inhabiting his meat suit.

 

Persons and his human body have an interesting relationship, more commensal than parasitic. While other Star-Spawn and Elder Things simply take what they want, invading human flesh like a disease and eventually destroying their hosts, Persons tries to minimize damage to his meat suit (he may be immortal and resilient, but his human form still suffers from wear and tear, and he feels pain when it’s damaged), and gives his phantasmal passenger a say in certain decisions. Even though he’s in the driver’s seat, John’s body will still react to its original owner’s thoughts and feelings, independent of him. In one scene, the meat suit becomes aroused by the proximity of a beautiful woman. Persons is aware of “his” body’s quickening pulse and rising temperature (among “other” rising things, heh), and states that the sensation is “not unpleasant”, but he describes the physical reaction with the detached interest of scientist observing a cell under a microscope. He is, after all, still an alien being.

Not much is known about the man whose skin he now wears, except that he’s an older person of color who lived during the interwar period, and gave John his body willingly after being asked. The whole Philip Marlowe / Sam Spade persona Persons adopts to appear more human is as an homage to his meat suit’s original owner. I guess it’s kind of sweet that he does that, in a very weird way, but unfortunately his stubborn refusal to update his dated vocabulary and attitudes, or venture into any genre that isn’t detective noir makes John come off as pretty sexist. He refers to women as “skirts,” “broads,” “dames,” and “birds”, and divides them into victims and femme fatales. This attitude backfires on him spectacularly since, of course, the real world isn’t like his detective novels, and John keeps misjudging the women he interacts with.

What sets the monstrous PI apart from his fellow cosmic entities, besides seeking consent from his body’s original owner, is his fondness for humanity, his dedication to following the law and maintaining order, and his desire for earth to remain more or less the way it is, i.e. not a barren hell-scape inhabited by Eldritch abominations.  Most of the monsters he fights are chaotic evil, infecting and destroying whenever they go, but John Persons is closer to lawful neutral, occasionally leaning towards good. He’s not exactly heroic since, in his words, “Good karma don’t pay the bills,” but Persons does have a strong set of morals. As previously mentioned he’s big on consent and describes the act of possessing a willing host’s body as “better than anything else I’d ever experienced” and feels incredibly guilty when he accidentally reads a woman’s mind after touching her arm. When she becomes understandably angry at the violation, screaming “You don’t take what you’re not given!” John doesn’t try to minimize, excuse, or defend his behavior (even though the intrusion was an accident), he simply apologizes, mortified by what he’s done. He can even show compassion at times, but how much of his altruistic behavior is due to the remaining sentience of his body’s former inhabitant acting as his ghostly conscience is unclear.

It’s his spectral companion who convinces John to take the case of a young boy named Abel, who wants Persons to kill his abusive stepfather. While initially hesitant about committing murder, John is convinced once the boy reveals that his stepfather is a monster, both literally and figuratively, and both Abel and his little brother’s lives are in danger. He might not be a hero, but Persons does seem to genuinely want to help the two boys, even if he claims it’s just because they’re clients. It may be simply because he wants the ghost with whom he cohabitates to stop nagging him, as John is usually pretty indifferent to human suffering on his own, or perhaps it’s because an Old One is involved, and he’d really prefer it not destroy the world. Regardless of the reason, he agrees to help.

In his eagerness to play white knight (or his meat suit’s eagerness) Persons often fails to realize that the “helpless victims” he seeks to rescue are often perfectly able to take care of themselves, like the waitress whose mind he reads. He’s also quick to victim blame the boys’ mother for not leaving, clearly unable to understand the psychological element of abuse or how dangerous it is for a person to try and leave an abusive partner, just making her feel worse than she already does. John struggles when it comes to comforting victims or dealing with their emotions. He claims his lack of skill when it comes to words and feelings is due to being a “man” (or at least inhabiting the body of one), though it’s just as likely it’s because he’s an eldritch abomination, and he’s just been using sexism to avoid learning the nuances of human emotion. While Persons is better at managing his desire to destroy and devour than the other monsters and is able to maintain a detached control over his meat suit’s emotions and baser instincts, he’s not immune to the effects of his human body’s testosterone or his own toxic misogyny. When the PI is feeling especially aggressive his true form starts to writhe beneath his human skin, straining to break free from his epidermis and rip apart the object of his ire. Even his thoughts start to degrade into a sort of violent, inhuman, babble when he gets too riled up. John actually has to fight to keep control of his monstrous body when he first encounters the abusive stepfather, he’s so desperate to disembowel and devour him. His true nature is a stark contrast to the cool and logical detective persona Persons has adopted. I won’t lie, I did enjoy seeing him act all protective of Abel and his little brother. There’s something amusing about what is essentially an immortal abomination that can effortlessly rip a grown man in two, doing something as mundane and sweet as escorting his young client home while carrying the child’s kid brother on his hip. It’s also heartbreaking when you realize the two boys are safer with a literal monster than their step dad, McKinsey (even before he was possessed).

The step-father is a real piece or work, and throughout the story I desperately wanted John to give in to his monstrous instincts and tear the bastard apart, limb by limb. But being a man/monster of the law, Persons won’t do much more than saber-rattle until he has solid proof of McKinsey’s wrong doing, much to Abel’s frustration. The kid would much rather the PI solve things with his fists (teeth, tentacles, claws, and other miscellaneous alien appendages) than waste time talking to witnesses, and I’d certainly be annoyed too if the monster I hired to kill someone wasted time playing detective instead of just eating his target. But Persons did warn Abel that he’s not a killer for hire and wants to do things “by the book”. Unfortunately, like most real monsters, McKinsey excels at hiding his wrong doing and camouflaging his true nature which makes it difficult for John to find a solid lead. People like McKinsey and describe him as a “loving family-man”.  Those who haven’t been completely conned by his act either don’t care he’s a monster (like his boss) or are too terrified to do anything (like his fiancée). None of the adults in the boys’ lives are fulfilling their duty of protecting two vulnerable children. This is where the real horror lies in Khaw’s story– not the eldritch abominations like Shub-Niggurath, or the threats of world destruction, but the all too painful reminder that we so often fail abuse victims. Khaw is tasteful when describing what the two boys go through, and it isn’t played for titillation or described in explicit detail. She only reveals enough to lets us know the two boys in the story are going through something no child should ever have to suffer. I also liked her choice to make the victims male. Far too often male survivors are overlooked, erased, or mocked because society tells us males can’t be victims, even though the CDC states that “More than 1 in 4 men in the United States have experienced rape, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner in their lifetime” and a study published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine found that 1 in 6 boys will be sexually abused before the age of 18. As depressing as these statistics are, the situation isn’t completely hopeless, because monsters aren’t invulnerable, even the kind that have been infected by Elder Things. As Person muses towards the end of the book “I don’t remember who said it, but there’s an author out there who once wrote that we don’t need to kill our children’s monsters. Instead, what we need to do is show them that they can be killed.” For those of us who can’t go out an hire a eldritch abomination PI, at least we have RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) and their recommended resources for cases of abuse and sexual assault.

Frost Bite by Angela Sylvaine

Frost Bite by Angela Sylvaine

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Dark Matter INK

Genre: Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Bisexual main character

Takes Place in: North Dakota, USA

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Physical Abuse, Police Harassment, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

Remember the ’90s? Well…the town of Demise, North Dakota doesn’t, and they’re living in the year 1997. That’s because an alien worm hitched a ride on a comet, crash landed in the town’s trailer park, and is now infecting animals with a memory-loss-inducing bite–and right before Christmas! Now it’s up to nineteen-year-old Realene and her best friend Nate to stop the spread and defeat the worms before the entire town loses its mind. The only things standing in the way are their troubled pasts, a doomsday cult, and an army of infected prairie dogs.

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.

All Realene wants is to get out of Demise, North Dakota and become a doctor. Instead, she’s stuck in a dead-end town she hates with a dead dad and a mother who is slowly succumbing to Alzheimer’s who she has to care for. Realene‘s best friend, Nate, is in a similarly tough spot. His father is an abusive asshole who threw him out as soon as he turned 18 and continues to terrorize Nate’s mother. Because he got busted for selling weed, Nate is now ineligible for finical aid, which he can’t afford college without. It seems both will be trapped in Demise for the rest of their lives.  

And then the meteor strikes. Realene is first on the scene and witnesses the meteorite crack open and leak out a black sludge, which is quickly absorbed into the ground. She contacts the police about the meteorite, but chooses to leave out the part about the black sludge. The next day the strike site is a zoo, with police, military, scientists, newscasters, and locals crawling all over the scene. Most of the town views the meteorite as a reason to celebrate, even going so far as to have special shooting star sales at all the local stores, but the local religious zealot, reverend Zebadiah, sees it as a sign of the end times. And that’s when the prairie dogs start to attack.

Despite being a comedy about alien parasites, the book has some pretty depressing themes. As much as Realene loves her mother, she resents being stuck taking care of her and how it’s holding her back from her dreams. Does she give up her dreams and possibly her future to care for her mother, or does she abandon her best friend and the one family member she has left to try and make life better for herself? What you think Realene should do probably depends where you fall on the scale of individualism to collectivism and how you feel about filial piety. Regardless of the “right” answer it’s a complicated and crappy position to be in and whatever decision she make is going to leave her hurting.

Then there’s Nate’s situation with his abusive dad. I got incredibly frustrated with Nate’s mom and how she would choose her abusive husband over her own son. I understand intellectually that she is a victim. She was physically and emotionally abused first by her husband, and then by reverend Zebadiah. There are a myriad of reasons she might stay, and it’s likely her husband would have killed her if she tried to leave anyway. And I know that Nate’s father is the one at fault, not his mother, who was put in an impossible situation. I’m not upset that she couldn’t protect Nate when she couldn’t even protect herself, that was beyond her control. But the fact that, when given the opportunity, she chooses first her abusive husband and then her abusive reverend over her own son feels like a betrayal. But like Realene’s situation, the situation for Nate’s mother is complicated and there are no easy answers.

This is a book about killer prairie dogs, family, and a doomsday cult that comes with its own ‘90s playlist. And it works so well. The story manages to balance tragedy, horror, humor, and some genuinely heart-warming moments perfectly and in a way that doesn’t feel like you’re jumping from genre to genre. There’s also an orange cat named Pumpkin and I love him (don’t worry, nothing bad happens to him). Frostbite is a fun, heartfelt romp full of suspense and horror movie references. Definitely check it out, unless you love prairie dogs.

(UN) Bury your Gays by Clinton W. Waters

(UN) Bury your Gays by Clinton W. Waters

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: self published

Genre: Body Horror, Eldritch, Sci-Fi,  Zombie

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Gay author and characters

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Physical Abuse, Slurs, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

It’s the late 2000’s. Humphrey West and his best friend Danny are just trying to survive their senior year. Unfortunately, Danny falls short of that goal after a risky rendezvous. But Humphrey has just the thing: a concoction borne of magic and science that is able to bring the dead back to life (at least it’s worked on a bee so far). Against all odds, Danny comes back from the clutches of death.

The Danny that returns is…different. And it’s not just the missing memories. Soon, Humphrey is doing everything in his power to keep his friend alive, but none the wiser to what is happening.

A queering of the Lovecraft classic “Herbert West – Reanimator”, (UN)Bury Your Gays is about blurring the boundaries between life and death, love and obsession, and secrets and lies.

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.

Considering what a raging bigot H.P. Lovecraft was, it’s always delightful when one of his works is reclaimed by marginalized creators, because you just know it would drive him absolutely batty. On top of being racist, sexist, xenophobic, and antisemitic, Lovecraft was also a homophobe. He discouraged his close friend, a gay man named Robert Hayward Barlow, from writing homoerotic fiction, and his letters condemned homosexuality (though it’s unclear if Lovecraft ever knew the man he appointed as the executor of his literary estate was gay). However, some literary critics speculate that Lovecraft was himself secretly gay or asexual. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a homophobe would be overcompensating for a sexuality they were secretly ashamed of. It would certainly explain the strangely close friendship between one of Lovecraft’s most popular characters, Herbert West, and the unnamed narrator in Herbert West: Reanimator. Perhaps Lovecraft subconsciously created a male-male relationship that he himself desired.

The original story was first serialized in the pulp magazine Home Brew in 1922 and told the story of Herbert West and his loyal assistant, two medical students at Miskatonic University who experiment with reviving the dead. Their experiments are less than successful as the reanimated corpses become violent and animalistic; one even devours a child. The two share a close relationship, choosing to live together for years, even though the assistant admits to being terrified of his friend. The movie Re-Animator (1985) and its sequel Bride of Re-Animator (1990) furthers the gay subtext between the movie’s main characters Herbert West (Jeffery Combs) and Dan Cain (Bruce Abbot), with West often acting like a jealous lover to Dan. The homoerotic reading of the first two Re-Animator movies is apparently so popular it has over 500 fanfics shipping the two on Archive of our Own.  

(Un) Bury Your Gays is “a queering” of Herbert West: Reanimator that also draws inspiration from the films. (For example, the chemical solution in Waters’ story has a green glow, a movie-specific detail.) The title is a reference both to subverting the Bury Your Gays trope and to the plot itself where a gay character is brought back from the dead and literally “unburied.” The novella tells the story of Herbert West’s great-nephew Humphrey West, and his best friend, Danny Moreland (who takes over the role of the assistant and whose name is a reference to Dan Cain). Danny and Humphrey are best friends, and the only two queer kids in their religious, rural town. While they do love each other, it’s purely platonic and the two aren’t in a romantic relationship. Humphrey remains single while Danny secretly hooks up with the captain of the football team, Judd Thomas, who also happens to be the son of the town pastor and Humphrey’s biggest bully.The trouble starts when Humphrey discovers his great-uncle’s notebook detailing the secret to life after death. Humphrey attempts to use the reanimator solution to bring a dead bee back to life, with the hope that he can somehow use it to fight colony collapse disorder. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions and the solution soon leads to death and the destruction of Danny and Humphrey’s friendship.

Waters does an excellent job mimicking Lovecraft’s original story, both in tone and content, while also making it uniquely his own. Initially appearing to be a sensitive kid, Humphrey is eventually revealed to be every bit as complex as his great-uncle. His desire for revenge causes him to make morally questionable choices, which he rationalizes as trying to protect his best friend. He comes off as cold to others (much like Herbert West), even though he feels things deeply.  It’s an interesting twist to have the reanimator narrate the story, rather than his assistant. We get to hear firsthand what’s going through the mind of the mad scientist, making Humphrey a much more sympathetic character. He clearly loves Danny, and will do anything to protect him, but he takes it too far and becomes obsessive and controlling without even realizing it. When things go too far, Humphrey doesn’t show remorse– much to Danny’s horror. But all Humphrey wants is to keep his friend safe. He genuinely thinks he’s doing the right thing and can’t comprehend why Danny gets upset with him and eventually cuts him out of his life. And because Humphrey’s character is sympathetic, and we know how he feels and thinks, I honestly felt bad for him. It’s a compassion I can’t conjure for either the original Herbert West or the film version, both of whom, while not necessarily evil, are definitely on the lower end of the morality scale.

Overall Water’s queer retelling/sequel to Herbert West: Reanimator is an excellently written, morally gray horror that’s sure to please Lovecraft fans.

Unshod, Cackling, and Naked by Tamika Thompson

Unshod, Cackling, and Naked by Tamika Thompson

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Unnerving 

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Killer/Slasher, Sci-Fi Horror, Werebeasts

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Black main characters and author, lesbian character, Biracial Black/Creek character

Takes Place in: LA, California

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Body Shaming, Child Abuse, Child Death, Pedophilia, Police Harassment, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Slurs, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence

Blurb

A beauty pageant veteran appeases her mother by competing for one final crown, only to find herself trapped in a hand-sewn gown that cuts into her flesh. A journalist falls deeply in love with a mysterious woman but discovers his beloved can vanish and reappear hours later in the same spot, as if no time has passed at all. A cash-strapped college student agrees to work in a shop window as a mannequin but quickly learns she’s not free to break her pose. And what happens when the family pet decides it no longer wants to have ‘owners’?

In the grim and often horrific thirteen tales collected here, beauty is violent, and love and hate are the same feeling, laid bare by unbridled obsession. Entering worlds both strange and quotidian, and spanning horror landscapes both speculative and real, asks who among us is worthy of love and who deserves to die?

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 absolutely love horror anthologies, so I was excited to receive Unshod, Cackling, and Naked by Tamika Thompson. Many of the stories in the anthology focus on the balance between humans and nature and the morality of killing, owning, and eating animals. Bridget has Disappeared takes place in a dystopian near-future with disappearing resources which lead to poverty and crime. I Will be Glorious is about coping with loss and a killer tree. The Bats and The Turn are both about diseases that seemingly spread overnight (much like COVID) that cause dogs and bats, respectively, to turn against humans and attack them. The Turn especially focuses on the humanity’s relationship with domesticated animals and describes what would happen if dogs no longer wished to be kept as pets. Similarly, And We Screamed examines humanity’s relationship with livestock, and why we choose to eat some animals and feel entitled to try and control them. It also examines the sanctity of death and dead bodies. I found this story especially interesting because I was probably the exact opposite of the target audience. I eat meat and have several pets. I used to work on a farm with livestock (some of which were being raised for food) as a child, and I volunteered at an animal hospital where I sometimes had to help euthanize sick animals in my teens. In college I majored in biology and had no qualms about dissecting dead animals, including rats and cats (despite being a huge rat and cat lover).

In And We Screamed there’s a scene where the main character refuses to dissect a cat and her classmate points out that it’s messed up because it still has a face. My first thought was “Well, how are you supposed to dissect the eyes if it doesn’t have a face?” (Which turns out to be the teacher’s argument as well.) It was intriguing to be reminded that something I consider routine and mundane was actually horrific for many people, and to see why exactly it was so frightening from their point of view.  I was able to understand and empathize with where the author, and her characters, were coming from, even if I didn’t fully agree with her conclusions. I also recognized the mental disconnect that makes me willing to dissect a rat for science while also dropping over a grand on veterinary bills for a rat I keep as a pet.  Truly a testament to Thompson’s skill as a writer.

My favorite stories in Unshod, Cackling, and Naked were the ones with feminist themes. In I Did it for You a young rape survivor tracks down creepy men and cuts off their small toe, turning them into victims who will have to carry a scar for the rest of their lives, just as she does. She points out to one cop–the one who raped her because he thought she was a prostitute–that losing a toe is nothing like losing your will to live after being sexually assaulted. I always enjoy a good rape revenge story and I appreciated that Thompson makes the sex workers in I Did it for You heroes rather than victims (like they are in most horror), and they feel like real characters rather than stereotypes.  

Mannequin Model is the story from which Unshod, Cackling, and Naked draws its name. In it, a woman acts as a “living doll,” modeling clothing in a store window where she’s objectified and sexually harassed. She’s treated as a literal sex object, with no voice or will, so it’s extremely satisfying when she finally rebels. But my absolute favorite story in the collection is I am Goddess. In it, a woman named Lira wants to convince her husband to pay for face treatments so she can be beautiful. Her marriage to her husband is basically every bad heterosexual relationship you’ve read about on Reddit. Lira works full time and does everything around the house. She pays the mortgage and all the bills out of her paycheck, despite earning the same amount as her husband. Her husband uses his own money to buy himself big-screen TVs and flashy new cars while telling Lira they can’t afford a washer and dryer or a car for her, so she’s stuck doing laundry by hand and taking the bus. He flirts with other women, dismisses her feelings, and ignores her unless he wants sex. But Lira puts up with it with a smile because she has been conditioned her whole like to believe she needs a man to be “complete” and that she’s lucky to have anyone at all considering her appearance. All of Lira’s accomplishments growing up are downplayed until she finds a husband. Her cousin constantly mocks her appearance and makes Lira feel inferior. No wonder she’s trapped in such a toxic relationship. But her husband’s refusal to let her get the one thing she wants, her face treatment, finally pushes Lira over the edge. She finally sees her husband for who he really is, a loser, and all her pent up anger and frustration comes pouring out. She gets even, and it’s glorious. Definitely one of the strongest stories in the collection, in my humble opinion. 

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Dancing Cat Books

Genre: Apocalypse/Disaster, Body Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: American/Indian and Indigenous characters (Mostly Métis, Anishinaabe, and Cree), Black/Indo-Caribbean/Biracial character, gay male characters

Takes Place in: Toronto, Canada

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Alcohol Abuse, Amputation, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Kidnapping, Medical Torture/Abuse, Pedophilia, Police Harassment, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Suicide, Violence

Blurb

In a futuristic world ravaged by global warming, people have lost the ability to dream, and the dreamlessness has led to widespread madness. The only people still able to dream are North America’s Indigenous people, and it is their marrow that holds the cure for the rest of the world. But getting the marrow, and dreams, means death for the unwilling donors. Driven to flight, a fifteen-year-old and his companions struggle for survival, attempt to reunite with loved ones and take refuge from the “recruiters” who seek them out to bring them to the marrow-stealing “factories.”

***CONTENT WARNING: In this review I will be discussing Indigenous American (Canadian, Mexican, and the US) history and residential schools/Indian boarding schools, with a primary focus on Canada where the Marrow Thieves takes place. I will be touching on genocide, forced assimilation, abuse, sexual assault, trauma, and addiction. There will also be images of verbal abuse and the effects of trauma. Please proceed with caution and take breaks if you need to. For my Indigenous readers: if you feel at all distressed or disturbed while reading this, or just need support in general, there are resources for the US and Canada here and here respectively. If you need extra help you can also find Indigenous-friendly therapists here and here to talk to. If you are a abuse survivor, are being abused, or know someone who is, please go here. There are further links at the end of the review. Please reach out if you need to!***

I have tried to use mainly Indigenous created articles, websites, books, films, and interviews for reference when writing this review. I have also included multiple quotes from residential school survivors, as I felt I could not do justice to their vastly different experiences without using their own words. However, I can only cover a fraction of a long and complex history. I strongly encourage everyone to check out the books, videos, and podcasts I have listed at the end of the review. Kú’daa Dr. Debbie Reese for providing such an excellent list of suggestions for residential school resources! They were a huge help in this review. And speaking or Dr. Reese, check out her review of The Marrow Thieves as well as Johnnie Jae’s Native book list. And another big thank you to Tiff Morris for being my sensitivity reader for this review. Your help and advice was invaluable! Wela’lin!

When I first read The Marrow Thieves years ago it didn’t impact me the way it does now. Back in 2017 a worldwide pandemic still existed solely in the realm of science fiction. Much like a giant asteroid destroying the earth, it was technically possible but so unlikely that such a scenario wasn’t worth worrying about. Re-reading the dystopian horror novel in 2020 was a completely different and utterly terrifying experience. Even knowing how the story would end was not enough to quell my anxiety and I felt on edge the entire time. The fact that Cherie Dimaline’s used real world atrocities committed against Indigenous people just makes the story feel even more plausible and horrifying. Water rightsviolence against Indigenous womencultural appropriationclimate change, cultural erasure, and the trauma caused by residential schools are all referenced.

The book opens with the protagonist Frenchie, a young Métis boy, watching helplessly as his Brother Mitch is beaten and kidnapped by Recruiters, a group of government thugs tasked with capturing Indigenous people for the purpose of extracting their bone marrow. Now alone, and with no idea how to survive on his own Frenchie has to be rescued from starvation by a small band of Indigenous (mostly Anishinaabe and Métis) travelers. The group welcomes the young boy as one of their own, and he soon comes to see them as an adoptive family as the ragtag bunch works together to survive and protect each other.

Miig is the patriarch of the group, an older gay gentleman who likes to speak in metaphor and teaches the older kids Indigenous history through storytelling. He also trains Frenchie and the others to hunt, travel undetected, and generally survive in their harsh new reality. Miig might seem cold at first but he genuinely loves the kids, he just prefers to show it through actions rather than words. Dimaline did an excellent job writing Miig and he felt like a real person rather that a lazy gay stereotype. I absolutely adore his character. He’s got the whole “gruff but kind dad” thing going. Minerva is another one of my favorites, a cool and cheerful Elder who acts as the heart of the group and teaches the girls Anishinaabemowin, as most of the kids have lost their original languages. She keeps all of them to the past. Minerva also raised the youngest member of the group, Riri, a curious and spunky 7-year-old who ends up bonding with Frenchie. Riri was only a baby when she was rescued and has no memory of a time before they were forced into a nomadic lifestyle in order to avoid the Recruiters so, unlike the others, she has nothing to miss. Cheerful and lively Riri never fails to raise everyone’s spirits or give them hope for a better future.

The rest of the kids range from nine to young adulthood. Wab is the eldest girl, beautiful and fierce and “as the woman of the group she was in charge of the important things.” Then there’s Chi-boy, a Cree teenager who rarely speaks. The youngest are the twins Tree and Zheegwan, followed by Slopper, a greedy 9-year-old from the east coast who likes to complain and brings his adoptive family the levity they all need. Later on they’re joined by Rose, a biracial Black/White River First Nation teen who Frenchie immediately develops a crush on. And I can’t really blame him because Rose is a total bad ass. All of them have lost people to the residential schools and some, like the twins, were even victims of “marrow thieves” themselves. But they all support each other and survive despite the difficulties they’ve faced.

No one knows what caused the dreamless disease rapidly infecting the country, an illness that causes the victim to stop dreaming and slowly descend into madness, only that Indigenous people are immune. And yes, I do appreciate the irony of a plague that only affects Colonizers. Perhaps it’s divine retribution for Jeffery Amherst’s (yes that Amherstgerm warfare. When their immunity is discovered people begin to flock to Native nations begging for help. But Indigenous people are understandably reluctant, having been burned too many times before. They don’t want to share their sacred ceremonies and traditions with outsiders, and for very good reason. Non-Natives quickly get tired of asking and do what they do best: take what they want, in this case Indigenous practices and later Indigenous bodies. The few survivors who do manage to escape the new residential schools often return with parts of themselves missing, an apt metaphor for real residential schools. Although set in a fictional future The Marrow Thieves dives into a past that Colonialism has actively tried to suppress.

Indigenous history is rarely taught in either US or Canadian schools (outside of elective courses) and what is taught is often grossly inaccurate. To quote Dr. Debbie Reese’s post about representation in the best-selling paperbacks of all time: “23,999,617 readers (children, presumably) have read about savage, primitive, heroic, stealthy, lazy, tragic, chiefs, braves, squaws, and papooses.” In America we’re taught that the Wampanoag (who are never mentioned by name) showed up to save their pilgrims friends from starvation and celebrate the first Thanksgiving, with no mention of the English massacre of the Pequot, Natives being sold into slavery, or the Colonists’ grave robbing. After 1621, mentions of American Indians are scarce to non-existent. There might be a brief paragraph here and there in a high school textbook about the Iroquois Nation siding with the British in the Revolutionary War, or the Trail of Tears.

2015 study of US history classes, grades K-12, showed that over 86% of schools didn’t teach modern (post-1900) Indigenous history and American Indians were largely portrayed “as barriers to America progress. As a result, students might think that Indigenous People are gone for one reason—they were against the creation of the United States.” Few students are ever told about the mass genocide of American Indians, smallpox blankets, the government’s unlawful seizure of Native land, the many broken treaties, destruction of culture, and forced experimentation. American Indian writer and activist Suzan Shown Harjo points out in an interview “When you move a people from one place to another, when you displace people, when you wrench people from their homelands, wasn’t that genocide? We don’t make the case that there was genocide. We know there was, yet here we are.” You would think that American history would dedicate more than a paragraph to THE PEOPLE WHO FUCKING LIVED IN AMERICA. I’m not that familiar with the Canadian education system, but according to Métis writer and legal scholar Chelsea Vowel they’re not much better at teaching the history of First Nation, Inuit, and Métis people. The omission of Indigenous Americans and Canadians from history lessons is just another form of erasure that contributes to the continued systemic oppression of First Peoples by a racist and colonialist system.

A White teacher stands in front of her class and is pointing to racist, stereotypical cartoon images of Pilgrims and Indians. The teacher says “The Indians helped the pilgrims and they became best friends! Then the Indians all voluntarily left so we could found America. Too bad there aren’t any Indians anymore!” The only non-White child in the class, a Native girl raises her hand and say “Um, actually the Wampanoag and lots of other American Indian tribes are still around even though the colonizers tried to get rid of us and stole our land. I’m Seneca and my family and I are still here.” The cheerful teacher says “I said…” then she turns menacing “…The Indians and Pilgrims were FRIENDS and they left voluntarily. So stop making things up. Now it’s time to make construction paper Indian head dresses kids!”

The sad thing is, the “Pilgrim and Indian” drawings are based on actual, present day “lessons” from teaching websites. This comic is loosely based on my experience as the only Black kid in class when we learned about the Civil War. The Seneca girl is wearing a “Every Child Matters” orange shirt for Residential Schools survivors.

White supremacist Andrew Jackson believed American Indians had “neither the intelligence, the industry, the moral habits, not the desire of improvement” and used this to justify the numerous acts of Cultural Genocide he committed. One of the worst was the Indian Removal Act, which forced the Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek and Seminole to choose between assimilation or leaving their homelands. Justin Giles, assistant director of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation Museum, describes it as, “You can have one of two things: you can keep your sovereignty, but you can’t keep your land. If you keep your land you have to assimilate and no longer be Indian… you can’t have both.” While reading The Marrow Thieves, I was struck by how much the world Dimaline created felt like a futuristic Nazi Germany. It makes sense considering “American Indian law played a role in the Nazi formulation of Jewish policies and laws” according to professor of law Robert J. Miller. Good job America, you helped create the Holocaust. I’m sure Andrew Jackson would be proud.

But people tend to object to mass murder and breaking treaties, even in the 1830’s. Jackson’s Indian Removal Act was controversial and drew a great deal of criticism, most notably from Davy Crockett and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Christian missionary and activist Jeremiah Evarts wrote a series of famous essays against the Removal Act that accused Jackson of lacking in morality. So even back then folks hated the 7th president for being a lying, racist piece of shit. Of course that didn’t necessarily mean they were accepting of the people they saw as “savages.” A line from They Called it Prairie Light sums it up best: “Europeans were at first skeptical of the humanity of the inhabitants of the American continents, but most were soon persuaded that these so-called Indians had souls worthy of redemption.”  So how could they “kill” Indians without actually killing them and looking like the bad guys? Richard Henry Pratt came up with the solution. Changing everything about Indigenous people to make them as close to Whiteness as possible.

“A great general has said that the only good Indian is a dead one. In a sense, I agree with the sentiment but only in this: that all the Indian there is in the race should be dead. Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.” – Richard Henry Pratt

Pratt was a former Brigadier General who had fought in the Union during the Civil War. He spoke out against racial segregation, lead an all Black regiment known as the “Buffalo Soldiers” in 1867 (yes, the ones from the Bob Marley song), and unlike Jackson, actually viewed the American Indians as people. Unfortunately, like most “White Saviors,” Pratt was ignorant, misguided and believed Euro-Americans were superior. “Federal commitment to boarding schools and their ‘appropriate’ education for Native Americans sprouted from the enduring rootstock of European misperceptions of America’s natives.” (Tsianina Lomawaima). And so Pratt decided the best way to help American Indians was to remove children from their homes to teach them “the value of hard work” and the superiority of Euro-American culture. Pratt had already practiced turning Cheyenne prisoners of war at Fort Marion into “good Indians” and he was convinced an Indian school would be equally successful. So in 1879 he founded the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, the first Indian boarding school in the US.

“Soon, they needed too many bodies, and they turned to history to show them how to best keep us warehoused, how to best position the culling. That’s when the new residential schools started growing up from the dirt like poisonous brick mushrooms. We go to the schools and they leach the dreams from where our ancestors hid them, in the honeycombs of slushy marrow buried in our bones. And us? Well, we join our ancestors, hoping we left enough dreams behind for the next generation to stumble across.”

Miig telling the kids how the bone marrow harvesting started.

“Civilizing” American Indian children by separating them from their cultural roots and teaching them Eurocentric values was not a new idea: The Catholic church had already been doing it for years. But it was Pratt who made it widespread. At the school, students were forced to cut their long hair, adopt White names and clothing, speak only in English, and convert to Christianity. Failure to comply would be met with corporal punishment from Pratt, who ran the school like an army barrack. Understandably, Indigenous people —   who had no reason to trust a nation of treaty breakers —    were initially reluctant to send their children away from their families to go to school. But Pratt convinced Lakota chief Siŋté Glešká aka Spotted Tail (one of three chiefs who had travelled to Washington to try and convince President Grant to honor the treaties the US had made) that an English education was essential to survival in an increasingly Euro-centric America. He argued that if Spotted Tail and his people were able to read the treaties they signed, they never would’ve been forced from their land. He would teach the students so they could return home and in turn help their people. Reluctantly the chief agreed to send the children Dakota Rosebud reservation, including his own sons, to Carlise. Ten years later Pratt’s “save the Indian” goal became a National policy and Natives no longer had a choice in the matter.

“As girls, Martha and young Frances found the atmosphere of the school alien, unfriendly, and oppressive. Both had been raised by nurturing parents of the leadership class, and neither had been abused as a child. They had learned the traditions and laws of their tribes, but the church had not had a strong presence on the San Manuel Reservation. When the girls entered the St. Boniface school, their parents had agreed to their enrollment so that they could cope better with an ever-changing society dominated by non-Indians. Furthermore, their parents expected them to be future leaders of the tribe and felt that training at an off-reservation boarding school would better prepare them for tribal responsibilities.” (Trafzer)

Canada was also pushing for assimilation and, using Pratt’s Residential School model, began to develop their own “off-reserve” schools. In 1920 Duncan Campbell Scott, the Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs for Canada from 1913 to 1932, passed the Indian Act. The bill made school attendance mandatory for all Indigenous children under the age of 15. Anyone who refused could be arrested and their children taken away by truant officers, the basis for Dimaline’s Recruiters. Residential school survivor Howard Stacy Jones describes how she was snatched by Mounted Police from her public school in Port Renfrew British Columbia and brought to a residential school: “I was kidnapped when I was around six years old, and this happened right in the schoolyard. My auntie and another witnessed this… saw me fighting, trying to get away from the two RCMP officers that threw me in the back seat of the car and drove away with me. My mom didn’t know where I was for three days.”

Scott famously said “I want to get rid of the Indian problem. . . Our objective is to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not been absorbed into the body politic and there is no Indian question, and no Indian Department, that is the whole object of this Bill.” Schools in the US and Canada did have some dissimilarities. While the U.S. moved away from mission schools in favor of government run ones, most Canadian residential schools continue to be run by Christian missionaries and supported by several churches. As a result, federal control was weaker in Canada and the goal of converting Indigenous people to Catholicism and Protestantism remained at the forefront. Interestingly, during my research I found that Indigenous people reported a wide variety of experiences in US residential schools ranging from positive to negative, whereas the stories about Canadian ones were overwhelmingly negative.  It’s possible that the Canadian residential schools were somehow worse than US ones, possibly due to the strong influence of the state and little government regulation, but I don’t want to draw conclusions on a topic I simply don’t know enough about. Besides it’s not my place to compare the experiences of survivors like that.

Still, I was genuinely surprised to find so many positive memories reported by former US residential school students who felt they benefited from their time there. While conducting interviews for They Called it Prairie Light Tsianina Lomawaima revealed that former Chilocco students had nothing but good things to say about L. E. Correll, the school’s superintendent from 1926 to 1952. “The participants in this research concurred unanimously in their positive assessment of Correll’s leadership, a testimonial to his commitment to students and the school. Alumni references to Mr. Correll… all share a positive tone. He is described as Chilocco’s ‘driving force,’ ‘wonderful,’ [and] ‘a fine man, we called him ‘Dad Correll.'” I bring this up not to minimize the damage the schools did nor excuse the atrocities they committed, but to illustrate the complexity of this topic. It would also be disingenuous not include the wide range of experiences at these schools. Another student at Chilocco wrote a letter to a North Dakota Agency complaining of a broken collarbone and not enough to eat only to be told to stop “whining about little matters.” Another student refused to Chilocco explaining, “I could stay there [at Chilocco) if they furnished clothing and good food. I don’t like to have bread and water three times a day, and beside work real hard, then get old clothes that been wear for three years at Chilocco [sic]. I rather go back to Cheyenne School.”

Regardless, all the schools caused lasting damage to Indigenous culture and communities. What Canada and the US claimed called assimilation “more accurately should be called ethnic cleansing…” explains Dr. Jennifer Nez Denetdale a Najavo Professor of American Studies at the University of New Mexico. Pratt may have had good intentions, but remember what they say the road to hell is paved with. Much like voluntourism today attempts to “help” American Indians through assimilation were rooted in colonialism and hurt more than they helped. Forrest S. Cuch, former director of the Utah Division of Indian Affairs describes the damage done to his tribe, the Utes. “Assimilation affected the Utes in a very tragic way. It was so ineffective that it did not train us to become competent in the White World and it took us away from our own culture, so much so that we weren’t even competent as Indians anymore.” “Children do not understand their language and they’re Navajos. This was done to us.” explained Navajo/Dine elder Katherine Smith. Assimilation was nothing short of Cultural genocide as defined by the 2015 the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada:

“…the destruction of those structures and practices that allow the group to continue as a group. States that engage in cultural genocide set out to destroy the political and social institutions of the targeted group… Languages are banned. Spiritual leaders are persecuted, spiritual practices are forbidden, and objects of spiritual value are confiscated and destroyed. And, most significantly to the issue at hand, families are disrupted to prevent the transmission of cultural values and identity from one generation to the next.”

Residential boarding schools are yet another atrocity that remains suspiciously absent from American and Canadian history books, but they are popular in Indigenous horror (Rhymes for Young GhoulsThe Candy MeisterThese Walls), and for good reason. Survivors describe deplorable living conditions, rampant abuse, rape, starvation, and being torn away from their families and culture. Homesickness was a common problem for young children who had spent their entire lives surrounded by family. Ernest White Thunder, the son of chief White Thunder, became so homesick and depressed he refused to eat or take medicine until he finally died.

“Students arriving at Chilocco [Residential School] met the discrepancies between institutional life and family life at every turn. Military discipline entailed a high level of surveillance of students but constant adult supervision and control was impossible. The high ratio of students to adults and the comprehensive power wielded by those few adults compromised any flowering of surrogate parenting. In the dormitories, four adults might be responsible for over two hundred children. The loss of the parent/child relationship and the attenuated contact with school personnel reinforced bonds among the students, who forged new kinds of family ties within dorm rooms, work details, and gang territories. Dormitory home life-siblings and peers, living quarters and conditions, food and clothing, response to discipline-dominates narratives.”  (Tsianina Lomawaima)

Running away was common and could end tragically. Kathleen Wood shared one of her memories of students who ran away: “There were three boys that ran away from [Chuska Boarding School]. They wanted to go home… They were three brothers, they were from Naschitti. They ran away from here as winter… They did find the boys after a while, but the sad part is all three boys lost their legs.” Not everyone survived their attempts to return home, as was the tragic case for Chanie “Charlie” Wenjack (trigger warning for description of child death). At the Fort William Indian Residential School 6 children died and 16 more disappeared.

Indigenous children first entering residential school would often have their long hair cut short, an undoubtedly traumatic experience for many children. For the Cheyenne the cutting of hair is done as a sign of mourning and deathRoy Smith, a member of the Navajo Nation (Diné) where long hair is an essential part of one’s identity, describes his experience: “They all looked at me when they were giving me my haircut… My long hair falling off. And I was really hurt. The teaching from my grandfather was… your long hair is your strength, and your long hair is your wisdom, your knowledge.” Hair is also holds spiritual importance to the Nishnawbe Aski. An anonymous Nishnawbe Aski School survivor was left deeply hurt be her hair cut:

“When I was a girl. I had nice long black hair. My mother used to brush my hair for me and make braids. I would let the braids hang behind me or I would move them over my shoulders so they hung down front. I liked it when they were in front because I could see those little colored ribbons and they reminded me of my mother. Before I left home for residential school at Kenora my mother did my hair up in braids so I would look nice when I went to school. The first thing they did when I arrived at the school was to cut my braids off and throw them away. I was so hurt by their actions and I cried. It was as if they threw a part of me away – discarded in the garbage.” – Anonymous

***Content warning, descriptions of child abuse and sexual assault and an image of verbal abuse of a child below***

Students were severely beaten for not displaying unquestioning obedience and sometimes for no reason at all. Those in charge would constantly reinforce the message that Indigenous people were stupid, worthless, and inferior to Whites, destroying the children’s sense of self-worth. Some students were forced to kneel for long stretches of time, hold up heavy books in their outstretched arms, or locked in the basement for hours. Children would be force-fed spoiled meat and fish until they vomited, then forced to eat their own vomit. Some were even electrocuted. Chief Edmund Metatawabin recalls his experience at St. Anne’s Indian Residential School:

There was [an electric chair with] a metal handle on both sides you have to hold on to and there were brothers and sisters sitting around in the boys’ room. And of course the boys were all lined up. And somebody turned the power on and you can’t let go once the power goes on. You can’t let go… my feet were flying in front of me and I heard laughter. The nuns and the brothers were all laughing.” – Edmund Metatawabin

From 1992 until 1998 Ontario Provincial Police launched an investigation into the abuse at St. Anne’s Residential School after Chief Edmund Metatawabin presented them with evidence of the crimes. The police took statements from 700 St. Anne’s survivors, many of whom described incidents of sexual assault and abuse involving priests, nuns, and other staff. During her interview one survivor said “This shouldn’t have happened to us. They’re God’s workers, they were to look after us.” (link contains graphic descriptions of abuse). One figure estimates that one in five  students were sexually abused when attending residential school. But schools would cover up the abuse, and anyone who complained was intimidated into silence.

A priest is forcing a ball and chain, representing trauma, to a little girl in a residential school uniform. She is surrounded by red and orange speech bubbles saying cruel things like "Dirty Indian!," "Shut up! Stupid Girl! Do as you're told!," "Savage!," and "You're going to hell for your pagan beliefs. You need religion."

The verbal abuse shown here is paraphrased from actual things said to Residential school survivals. They are taken from interviews and autobiographies. If you or someone you know is being abused, go here. Learn more about forms of abuse here.

All this pain and suffering was committed under the pretense of “civilizing” Native people, when in reality it was Cultural Genocide driven by White supremacy. “The whole move was to make Indian children white… Of course, at the end of the school experience, the children still weren’t white. They were not accepted by White mainstream America. When they went back to their tribal homelands, they didn’t fit in at home anymore either.” says Kay McGowan, who teaches cultural anthropology at Eastern Michigan University. Inuvialuit author Margaret Pokiak-Fenton describes how her mother did not even recognize her when she returned home in her children’s book Not my Girl. As if the rejection wasn’t heart breaking enough, Margaret had forgotten much of her own language and struggled to communicate with her family. Another residential school survivor, Elaine Durocher, says “They were there to discipline you, teach you, beat you, rape you, molest you, but I never got an education…. [instead] it taught me how to lie, how to manipulate, how to exchange sexual favors for cash, meals, whatever the case may be.” In a video for Women’s Centre she volunteers at she discusses how “The teachers were always hitting us because we were just ‘stupid Indians'”.

***End of content warning***

“[People] need to know that it was an event that happened to a lot of kids, that it wasn’t just a few; it was literally thousands of kids that suffered. I’ve come to realize that there were also others where the experience for them was actually very good, and I don’t question that. I can only relate to mine. Mine wasn’t a good one, and I know a lot of really good friends who also did not have a good experience.” – Joseph Williams

In The Marrow Thieves the government and the church join forces to perform experiments on prisoners, and later Indigenous people, in order to find a cure for the dreamless plague. And if you were hoping that was just a metaphor for destroying cultural identities and real residential schools never sunk so low as to experiment on helpless children, well, you’d be wrong. Science has a dark history of exploiting the most vulnerable populations for unethical experiments. In the U.S. alone enslaved women were tortured and mutilated by the father of gynecology  without any form of anesthesia (1845-1849), the government backed Tuskegee syphilis experiment (1932-1972) infected hundreds of Black men without their knowledge or consent, a stuttering experiment (1939) performed on orphans is now known as “The Monster Study,” elderly Jewish patients were injected with liver cancer cells (1963) to “discover the secret of how healthy bodies fight the invasion of malignant cells,” and inmates in the Holmesburg Prison were used to test the effects of various toxic chemicals on skin (1951-1974).

In the 1920s experimental eyes surgeries to treat trachoma were conducted on Southwestern US Natives. The contagious eye disease became an epidemic on Southwestern reservations, affecting up to 40% of some tribal groups. “Some tribes, such as the Navajo, experienced no “sore eyes” prior to their defeat by the United States, yet once confined to the reservation, they witnessed a significant increase in unexplained eye problems.” (Trennert) GEE I WONDER WHY. Maybe it had something to do with being forced to live in poverty on shitty reservations where their access to healthcare and sanitation was limited? The government decided to “help” by once again making it worse. The Indian office opened an eye clinic and hired the Otolaryngologist Dr. Ancil Martin to run it. Dr. Martin began the student treatment program before he had any idea how to cure trachoma. He decided to test out a surgical procedure called “grattage” which involved cutting the granules off the eyelids (without anesthesia of coure). One little girl described the experience: “During the operation they cut off little rough things from under the eyelid. It was a grisly scene, with blood running all over. The children had to be held down tight.” (Trennert) Unfortunately the experimental treatment only provided temporary relief and those children who recovered where left with permanent damage to their eyelids. Later, as part of the “Southwestern Trachoma Campaign,” ophthalmologist Dr. Webster Fox convinced the Indian Office to take even more drastic measures and surgically remove the tarsus (the plate of connective tissue inside each eyelid that contributes to the eyelids form and support). His reasoning for this was because he did not believe Indians would submit to prolonged treatment and it was better to “remove the disease more quickly and with less deformity than the way Nature goes about it.” Yikes.

In case you were hoping this was a tragic but isolated incident, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. When giving testimony to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada survivors consistently described an environment where “hunger was never absent.” Residential school meals were typical low in calories (they ranged from 1000 to 1450 calories per day, undernourishment is considered less than 1,800 calories per day), vegetables, fruit, protein, and fat, all essential parts of a growing child’s diet. “We cried to have something good to eat before we sleep. A lot of the times the food we had was rancid, full of maggots, stink. Sometimes we would sneak away from school to go visit our aunts or uncles, just to have a piece of bannock.” explained school survivor Andrew Paul. Food-borne illnesses were another common occurrence. Although at least partly due to negligence or a lack of funds some schools intentionally withheld food to see how the children’s bodies would react to malnutrition, especially as they fought off viruses and infections. “When investigators came to the schools in the mid-1940s they discovered widespread malnutrition at both of the schools” explained food historian Dr. Ian Mosby. ” “In the 1940s, there were a lot of questions about what are human requirements for vitamins… Malnourished aboriginal people became viewed as possible means of testing these theories.” Mosby said an interview with the Toronto Star. And so Indigenous Canadian children became unwitting guinea pigs in an unethical study. Between 1942 and 1952 Dr. Percy Moore, head of the superintendent for medical services for the Department of Indian Affairs, and Dr. Frederick Tisdall, former president of the Canadian Pediatric Society performed illicit nutrition experiments on students at St. Mary’s School. Milk and dairy rations were withheld. Instead children were given a fortified flour mixture containing B vitamins and bone meal. The experimental supplement impacted their development and caused children to become dangerously anemic, and continued to have negative effects on them as adults. Incidentally, this experimental flour mix was illegal in the rest of Canada.

A decade later the U.S. Air Force’s Arctic Aeromedical Laboratory in Fairbanks wanted to study the role the thyroid gland played in acclimating humans to cold in hopes of improving their operational capability in cold environments. The hypothesis was that Alaskan Natives were somehow physically better adapted to cold environments than White people This is another example of scientific racism as the study didn’t bother looking at the White inhabitants of the Arctic Circle:  Greenlanders, who hypothetically should have a similar resistance to the cold. Instead, they chose to focus on Alaskan Natives almost as if they were a different species. The othering didn’t end there. Participants (84 Inuit, 17 Athabascan Indians, and 19 White service members) were given a medical tracer, the radioisotope iodine 131 to measure thyroid function. Guess who wasn’t told they were part of the experiment? Instead of informing the Indigenous test subjects they were participating in a research study as would’ve been required by the recently created Nuremberg Code (the first point in the code literally says “The voluntary consent of the human subject is absolutely essential”), the scientists just said “Fuck it, we do what we want!” I mean, it’s not like someone might want to know they were being given RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL or anything right? Not only did the experiment offer no potential benefit to the Alaskan Natives who participated but the original hypothesis was disproven. The Airforce provided no follow up tests or treatment for the test subjects to insure they hadn’t suffered any long-term effects.

Students at Kenora residential school were used as test subjects for ear infection drugs, again without their knowledge or consent. School nurse Kathleen Stewart wrote in her report “The most conspicuous evidence of ear trouble at Cecilia Jeffrey School has been the offensive odor of the children’s breath, discharging ears, lack of sustained attention, poor enunciation when speaking and loud talking,” In a follow-up report she noted three children “were almost deaf with no ear drums, six had [hearing in] one ear gone.”

Human research violations aren’t just a problem of the distant past before the IRB was established. In 1979 Native leaders asked researchers to help them assess the drinking problem in their community in Barrow, Alaska. They were hoping to cooperate with them to find a solution. Instead the researchers went ahead and publicly shared the results of the Barrow Alcohol Study with news outlets. Because the study implied the majority of adults in Barrow were alcoholics (which was inaccurate), left out the socioeconomic context which led to drinking problems, and then announced the results without representatives from the tribal community, it caused both a great deal of shame and direct financial harm. Starting in the 1990s, Arizona State University obtained blood from the Havasupai tribe under false pretenses. Instead of using the samples for diabetes research like they had promised the tribal members, researchers used the Havasupai’s DNA for a wide range of genetic studies. This continued until 2003 when a Havasupai college student discovered how the blood was being used without permission. Carletta Tilousi explained in an NPR Interview “Part of it is it was a part of my body that was taken from me, a part of my blood and a part of our bodies as Native-Americans are very sacred and special to us and we should respect it.”

Keeping all this in mind the dystopian future that Dimaline created suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched. Indigenous people have already had their land stolen, their graves robbed, their children kidnapped, and their culture appropriated. They’ve even had their blood taken under false pretenses. Indigenous children held prisoner in residential schools were deliberately starved and denied access to basic healthcare all in the name of science. The Marrow Thieves feels especially poignant right now, with the Americas experiencing (at the time of writing this) some of the highest Covid-19 rates in the world. Who would we sacrifice to find a cure? Pfizer, the company responsible for making one of the two currently available Covid vaccines did illegal human research as recently as the 90’s. “What does it mean when the disproportionate disease burden currently faced by Indigenous communities is, in large part, the product of a residential system that the TRC has found was nothing short of a cultural genocide?” asks Mosby. “In part, it means that we need to rethink the current behavioral and pharmacologic approaches… in Indigenous communities. In their place, we need more community-driven, trauma-informed and culturally appropriate interventions… [and] also acknowledge the role of residential schools in determining the current health problems faced by residential school survivors and their families…[M]ost importantly, we need to demand that the next generation of Indigenous children have access to the kinds of plentiful, healthy, seasonal and traditional foods that were denied to their parents and grandparents, as a matter of government policy” he argues.

The worst part about the residential school is that even after they closed, their legacy remained and the damage they did would affect future generations. A report entitled Indigenous Communities and Family Violence: Changing the Conversation states “The [Royal Commission on Aboriginals Peoples] named residential schools as a significant cause of family violence in Indigenous communities… and the intergenerational impacts of residential schools on the prevalence continues to be recognized…”. Many of the abused students became abusers themselves, taking out their pain, fear, and frustration on the younger children. After leaving the school, survivors continued to suffer from low self esteem, hopelessness, painful memories and severe mental, social, and emotional damage. Boarding school trauma was then passed down from parent to child and the cycle of abuse would continue.  Because the children were deprived of affection and family during their formative years, many of them left residential school emotionally stunted and unable to openly express love, even towards their own children.

“Few [students] came out of residential schools having learned good boundaries, and good boundaries included some sense of self-determination, sovereignty over your own body. They didn’t have any control over that, and they didn’t see people around with appropriate behavior and being respectful of them as human beings, that they were sacred. And they were abused. Children learn what they live and that was their life.” – Sylvia Maracle, executive director of the Ontario Federation of Indigenous Friendship Centres.

Add in loss of land, racism, poverty, and a lack of healthcare and support and you’re left with a complex system of trauma that’s stacked against Indigenous people and their recovery. A report prepared for the Aboriginal Healing Foundation entitled Aboriginal Domestic Violence in Canada states:

 “Social and political violence inflicted upon Aborigional children, families and communities by the state and the churches through the residential school system not only created the patterns of violence communities are now experiencing but also introduced the family and community to behaviors that are impeding collective recovery.”

In her award-winning autobiography They Called Me Number One writer and former Xat’sull chief Bev Sellars discusses the long-lasting damage to her done by St. Joseph’s Mission.  Sellars watched helplessly as her brother’s personality completely changed as a result of sexual abuse and he began to take out his rage and pain on her. Sellar’s own trauma affected the way she interacted with her three children. She practiced an authoritarian style of parenting she had learned from the school and expected her children to hide their pain instead of expressing it as she was forced to do. Because the only touch Sellars experienced at the residential school was painful and abusive she feared any form of physical contact and was unable to hug anyone until her own children were grown. She continued to fear disobeying any White person or authority figure and made her want her children to behave perfectly in front of Whites.

She describes how she suffered from panic attacks, migraines, nightmares, memory problems, emotional numbness, angry outbursts, shame and phobias after attending the residential school. Because her complaints of mistreatment were dismissed and summarily punished by those in charge, Sellars developed a learned helplessness and “why bother?” attitude. Years of brainwashing by the nuns and priests caused Sellars to see “the world through the tunnel vision of the mission” and led her to believe she was inferior because she was Indigenous. Those familiar with trauma will recognize these as PTSD symptoms commonly seen in survivors. Unfortunately, emotional and mental health were still poorly understood in the 1960s and medical services are limited on reservations forcing survivors like Sellars to find other ways to numb their pain.

***Content warning for image of depressive thoughts below***

The girl from earlier is now a grown woman. She looks depressed, is wearing dark clothing, and hugging herself. The ball and chain that represents trauma are chained around her ankle. Dark thoughts fill her head like: “I must have deserved it,” “Nothing will ever get better, what’s the point?,” “Maybe there really is something wrong with being Native…,””The pain will never stop. I’m so tired of it, I just want to be numb,” and “Everyone hurts me, I can’t trust anyone. I’m all alone.”

The ball and chain represent the trauma the residential school survivor has to carry around with her. Her thoughts are based on those common to people with trauma. Please contact a mental health provider (listed at the beginning and end of the review) if you have similar thoughts.

***End of content warning***

In The Marrow Thieves Wab eventually shares how her mother became addicted to alcohol and later crack cocaine. The stress of living in a dirty, overcrowded military state while trying not to starve or get taken away by the school staff became too much for her. Wab wonders if her mother could feel herself dying and just gave up. Alcohol and drugs are frequently abused by those who’ve experienced trauma or have untreated mental illness. In fact, childhood abuse is prevalent among alcoholics, and children who experience trauma are four to twelve times more likely to engage in substance abuse. Sellars’ brother never recovered from the sexual abuse he experienced at the hands of the priests and developed an addiction to alcohol. Others survivors die by suicide. According to the CDC the suicide rate among adolescent American Indians is more than twice the U.S. average and the highest of any ethnic groups. Amanda Blackhorse explains “…we’re still feeling the effects of boarding schools today… and it has completely demolished the Indigenous familial system. And many of our people are suffering and they don’t… realize that they are suffering from the boarding school system. Many of us don’t even understand it…”

However, while alcoholism is definitely a problem in Native populations the stereotype of the “drunken Indian” is no more than a harmful myth. Indigenous people aren’t “genetically more susceptible to alcoholism” and American Indians are actually more likely to abstain from alcohol that Whites.

 “The participants in this study talked about historical trauma as an ongoing problem that is at the root of substance abuse issues in their families and communities. Further, the participants believed their experiences to be shared or common among other AI families and communities. Feelings about historical trauma among the participants, their families, and/or their communities included disbelief that these events could have happened, sadness, and fear that such events could recur; however, there also were messages about strength and survival.” – Laurelle L. Myhra

This huge, horrible thing that scarred thousands of survivors and had long lasting effects for Indigenous populations is almost entirely unknown outside of Native, Inuit and Métis communities, and the Canadian Government continues to underfund education and health services for Indigenous children. But there are many Indigenous people, like Bev Sellars, who are not just surviving, but flourishing, and in turn helping others to recover. Indigenous founded and run groups such as The National Indigenous Women’s Resource CenterFreedom LodgeIndigenous Circle of Wellness, and Biidaaban Healing Lodge, are all working to heal generational trauma by combining traditional Indigenous healing practices and modern trauma-informed therapy to create a holistic approach to wellness and mental health. Horror and Apocalyptic Fiction has also given Indigenous creators a way to process this generational trauma and make a wider audience aware of these historical atrocities. But even with everything Indigenous people have suffered through, they’re still here. The Marrow Thieves similarly ends on a hopeful note with Frenchie and his friends holding their heads high as they march into the future.

The woman is now older, wearing bright clothing, and looks happy. She has a Native-made T-shirt that says “you are sacred.” The speech and though bubbles all have bright colors. People are giving the woman positive affirmations like “You aren’t alone,” “You deserve to be happy,” and “Don’t measure yourself by colonizer standards.” Her thoughts are happy now instead of dark. The woman thinks “I don’t need permission to speak, exist, or take up space,” “My language, beliefs, and culture are not ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’,” “What was done to me was not my fault and it does not define me,” and “I am strong. I am brave. I have value.”

The girl from the residential school is all grown up, and with the support from her community has started to heal. Her trauma, now represented by a balloon to show the “weight” of it is now gone, is still there but is no longer impeding her ability to enjoy life. She finally feels free to celebrate her Chippewa culture and heritage, as reflected by her bright clothing and long braids. Her T-shirt is from Choctaw journalist and artist Johnnie Jae’s collection. Her skirt is based on the work of Chippewa fashion designer Delina White. Her scarf has a floral Chippewa design.

Sources:

Unspoken: America’s Native American Boarding Schools, PBS, 2016

The Indian Problem, The Smithsonian, 2016

In the White Man’s Image, PBS, 1992

Bopp, J., Bopp, M., and Lane, P.  Aboriginal Domestic Violence in Canada. The Aboriginal Healing Foundation. 2003. https://epub.sub.uni-hamburg.de/epub/volltexte/2009/2900/pdf/aboriginal_domestic_violence.pdf

Dunbar-Ortiz, Roxanne. An Indigenous People’s History of the United States. Boston: Beacon Press, 2014.

Fortunate Eagle, Adam. Pipestone: My Life in an Indian Boarding School. University of Oklahoma Press, 2010.

Health Justice, Daniel. Why Indigenous Literature Matters. Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2018.

Holmes, C. and Hunt, S. Indigenous Communities and Family Violence: Changing the ConversationNational Collaborating Center for Aboriginal Health, 2017.  https://www.nccih.ca/docs/emerging/RPT-FamilyViolence-Holmes-Hunt-EN.pdf

Jordan-Fenton, C. and Pokiak-Fenton, M. Not My Girl. Annick Press, 2014.

Jordan-Fenton, C. and Pokiak-Fenton, M. Fatty Legs. Annick Press, 2010.

Mihesuah, Devon A. American Indians Stereotypes & Realities. 1996. Reprint. Atlanta: Clarity Press, 2009.

Mihesuah, Devon A. So you Want to Write About American Indians?: A Guide for Writers, Students, and Scholars. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2005.

Pember, Mary Annette. “Death by Civilization.” Atlantic, 8 March. 2019.

https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2019/03/traumatic-legacy-indian-boarding-schools/584293/

Robertson, David Alexander. Sugar Falls: A Residential School Story. Highwater Press, 2012.

Sellars, Bev. They Called Me Number One: Secrets and Survival at an Indian Residential School. Talonbooks, 2013.

Sterling, Sherling. My Name is Seepeetza. Groundwood Books, 1992.

Trafzer, C. E., Keller, J.A., eds. Boarding School Blues: Revisiting American Indian Educational Experiences. Bison Books, 2006.

Treuer, Anton. Everything You Wanted to Know about Indians But Were Afraid to Ask. St Paul: Minnesota Historical Society Press, 2012.

Tsianina Lomawaima, K. They Called It Prairie Light: The Story of Chilocco Indian School. University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

Robinson-Desjarlais, Shaneen (host). Residential Schools Podcast Series. Audio podcast, February 21, 2020. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools-podcast-series

Dawson, Alexander S. “Histories and Memories of the Indian Boarding Schools in Mexico, Canada, and the United States.” Latin American Perspectives 39, no. 5 (2012): 80-99. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41702285.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Harper Voyager

Genre: Psychological Horror, Sci-Fi Horror, Thriller

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Lesbian/queer characters and author, Biracial Black character 

Takes Place in: another planet

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Medical Torture/Abuse, Medical Procedures, Mental Illness,  Self-Harm, Attempted Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse

Blurb

“This claustrophobic, horror-leaning tour de force is highly recommended for fans of Jeff VanderMeer’s Annihilation and Andy Weir’s The Martian.” — Publishers Weekly (starred review)
***

A thrilling, atmospheric debut with the intensive drive of The Martian and Gravity and the creeping dread of Annihilation, in which a caver on a foreign planet finds herself on a terrifying psychological and emotional journey for survival.

When Gyre Price lied her way into this expedition, she thought she’d be mapping mineral deposits, and that her biggest problems would be cave collapses and gear malfunctions. She also thought that the fat paycheck—enough to get her off-planet and on the trail of her mother—meant she’d get a skilled surface team, monitoring her suit and environment, keeping her safe. Keeping her sane.

Instead, she got Em.
Em sees nothing wrong with controlling Gyre’s body with drugs or withholding critical information to “ensure the smooth operation” of her expedition. Em knows all about Gyre’s falsified credentials, and has no qualms using them as a leash—and a lash. And Em has secrets, too . . .
As Gyre descends, little inconsistencies—missing supplies, unexpected changes in the route, and, worst of all, shifts in Em’s motivations—drive her out of her depths. Lost and disoriented, Gyre finds her sense of control giving way to paranoia and anger. On her own in this mysterious, deadly place, surrounded by darkness and the unknown, Gyre must overcome more than just the dangerous terrain and the Tunneler which calls underground its home if she wants to make it out alive—she must confront the ghosts in her own head.

But how come she can’t shake the feeling she’s being followed?

The Luminous Dead is a survival horror story with only two characters, one location, and no antagonist. It’s also one of the most stressful horror stories I’ve ever read. Starling is a master of playing with the reader’s paranoia, building up the suspense and atmosphere until you’re jumping at every sound and shadow. Ironically, The Luminous Dead also managed to calm me down considerably when I was dealing with my own stressful situation (horror is great for anxiety): spending the night in the ER awaiting an emergency cholecystectomy (after my wife told me it was nothing and we weren’t spending $4,000 at the ER just because I had stomach cramps that were probably just from drinking milk, and why hadn’t I just taken the Lactaid tablets she bought me). After managing to survive a severely infected gallbladder, I assumed that 2020 could only be uphill from there. Poor, naïve past me.  

In the first panel I'm lying in a hospital bed looking worn out. "Well at least 2020 can't be any worse than 2019." I say. In the second panel I'm sleeping peacfully, when suddenly I'm woken up in the third panel by evil laughter. In the 4th panel the demonic laughing continues while I hide under the blankets and ask "Where is that laughing coming from?"

Well at least none of my organs exploded in 2020, so there’s that…

In the future, humanity has spread out across the stars, but sadly it’s not the socialist utopia dreamed of in Star Trek. Gyre lives on a barren, back-water mining planet where poverty is rampant and the only escape is to take a job as a caver for wealthy mining companies. It’s not a pleasant job. On top of spending days or even weeks in a self-contained suit with little human interaction, breathing recycled air, and being fed through a stomach stoma, these subterranean explorers have to contend with falls, cave-ins, and underground flooding. Worst of all are the Tunnelers – giant alien worms that burrow through solid stone. Not many cavers survive, but those who do can expect a huge payout. In Gyre’s case, it’s enough to get her off-world to find the mother who abandoned her as a child. Desperate, uncertified, and inexperienced, she accepts an especially sketchy caving job that doesn’t ask too many questions. It’s not until Gyre has already begun her descent into the subterranean labyrinth she’s been hired to explore that she discovers she may have made a grave mistake. Instead of having an entire team topside to monitor her vitals, feed her info, and watch her while she sleeps, which is the standard, she has only one woman, Em. Cold, efficient, controlling, and stingy with details, Em is not above obfuscating data and manipulating her cavers to get the job done. Not exactly someone you want to trust with your life. Em seems to genuinely want to protect Gyre even if her methods are questionable, but that hardly excuses the lying and manipulation which only serve to exacerbate the young caver’s trust issues. Not that Gyre is much better. Her desperation means she’s willing to make some morally questionable decisions, and her stubbornness leads to her making bad ones.

A drawing of Gyre in her suit. She's in the cave and is looking at two skulls on the ground, horrified. Em is on the intercom saying "Don't worry Gyre, it's perfectly safe. Trust me!"

The background is from a cave in the Dominican Republic I visited back in February 2020. There weren’t any skulls in it though. *sigh* I miss travel.

As if paranoia, isolation, and giant monsters aren’t scary enough, Starling adds another twist: there may or may not be something sinister going on in the cave as Gyre’s senses start to play tricks on her. Maybe it’s another one of Em’s deceptions. For most of the book, you’re genuinely unsure of where the biggest threat is coming from: the cave, Em, or Gyre’s own mindknowing she’s all alone in the dark unknown (or is she?) with only one less-than-trustworthy guide. Although Gyre never fully trusts Em, the two begin to form a distrustful, dysfunctional relationship over time as they reveal and struggle with past traumas. And yes, their trauma bond is just as maladjusted as it sounds. It’s both fascinating and horrifying to watch these two deeply flawed, fucked up people grow closer. Part of me was rooting for Gyre and Em because, when everything is awful, people deserve every bit of happiness they can get. But the more rational part of me was horrified. Shared suffering does not mean two people will be compatible and without trust issues, and on top of Em’s willingness to put Gyre in danger, there are the hallmarks of a toxic relationship. To Starling’s credit, she doesn’t try to create an idealized romance, or even imply that their bond is healthy like certain romance books that will remain nameless tend to do *cough*Twilight*cough*. Instead she aims to create two realistic, flawed characters who are doing their best in a bad situation. I’m a huge fan of antiheroes and morally gray characters in fiction (in real life they’re just assholes) because they’re rarely bland or boring, and Gyre and Em are anything but dull. Watching a caver with trust issues put her life in the hands of a woman who lies just makes the story all the more suspenseful.

Part of the reason Gyre acts the way she does is because she grew up in survival mode. Living in a barren, capitalist hellhole will do that to a person. Like any good work of science fiction, The Luminous Dead uses fictional characters in a fictional setting to draw attention to some very real-world ethical dilemmas. In this case, it’s the exploitation of the poor and vulnerable in a Capitalist society. Dubbed 3K jobs in Japan (kitanai, kiken, kitsui or dirty, dangerous, and difficult in English) this sort of work has traditionally been given to immigrants, migrant workers, and other vulnerable populations who have few options available to earn a living and are less likely to complain about unsafe working environments. Dangerous jobs that require specialized skills and training, such as construction and steel working jobs, pay better salaries and are more likely to be OSHA compliant, but rarely pay enough to offset the risk. Sex work can be a 3K job that pays well, but leaves sex workers open to arrest, abuse, and disease without legal protections in place. While workers aren’t being forced into these jobs per se (as opposed to victims of trafficking, domestic servitude, debt bondage, and other forms of slavery) they’re not usually done by people who have other options available. In The Luminous Dead, caver jobs are only ever taken by those in poverty (the wealthy would never risk their lives doing such dangerous work) and no one continues caving after they’ve made enough to escape. So is it really a choice when you’re between Scylla and Charybdis?

A drawing of Odysseus' ship passing between Scylla (a monstrous woman with six dog's heads around her waist and six serpents head's with shark's teeth coming out of her back) and Charybdis (a giant whirlpool). Someone on the ship is saying "FML".

Scylla wasn’t that big but she’s also not real so I can draw her however I want lol

I can’t describe much more of the plot, as spoilers would ruin the suspense Starling worked so hard to create, but suffice it to say that The Luminous Dead is, at its core, about the trauma of losing a mother, whether from abandonment or death, and how anger and grief can destroy you. If you love isolation horror, definitely pick up a copy of your own.

F4 by Larissa Glasser

F4 by Larissa Glasser

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Eraser Head Press

Genre: Blood & Guts, Body Horror, Monster, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Trans women, Bisexual women, Queer women

Takes Place in: North Atlantic ocean

Content Warnings (Highlight to view):  Bullying, Drug Use/Abuse, Death,  Forced Captivity, Gore, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Mention of Medical Procedures, Police Harassment, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Slurs, Stalking, Suicide, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence 

Blurb

A cruise ship on the back of a sleeping kaiju. A transgender bartender trying to come terms with who she is. A rift in dimensions known as The Sway. A cruel captain. A storm of turmoil, insanity and magic is coming together and taking the ship deep into the unknown. What will Carol the bartender learn in this maddening non-place that changes bodies and minds alike into bizarre terrors? What is the sleeping monster who holds up the ship trying to tell her? What do Carol’s fractured sense of self and a community of internet trolls have to do with the sudden pull of The Sway?

Please note: This review was written before I was out as genderqueer. In the review I refer to myself as not being part of the trans/non-binary community. This inaccurate. 

The horror genre is not generally kind to trans-women, frequently depicting them as serial killers and/or sexual deviants. Hell, fiction in general doesn’t treat trans people well, forcing them into a victim role and focusing on their angst and dysphoria. So you can imagine how unbelievably excited I was when I learned that Eraserhead Press was publishing a horror story about a bad ass trans woman who fights monsters and alt-right trolls. Even better, it was being written by a trans woman! Glasser is  a librarian from Boston which makes her five-hundred times cooler in my eyes (I love librarians, they’re like keepers of secret knowledge and they know everything). The reviews for F4 have so far been unanimously positive, the premise sounded weird and awesome, and it promised representation rarely found in the horror genre. F4 was like everything I had wished for and I could not pre-order it fast enough.

Well, apparently whatever jinni decided to grant my wish for an awesome trans-lady horror story written by a trans person was one of those dick bag jinn who likes to pull that Monkey’s Paw shit, because I haven’t been this disappointed since I first saw Star Wars Episode One after months of hype.

 

I’m clutching handfuls of blue bills and angrily screaming at the Djinn from the Wishmaster film series who is looking please with himself. I yell “Why the FUCK would I wish for $100,000 in Zimbabwe dollars you unbelievable asshole!?!”

I guess I’m just lucky the Djinn didn’t give me $10,000 in pennies that fell from the sky and crushed me to death.

Carol, the main character of the story, is a trans-woman who works as a bartender on the Finasteride, a cruise ship built on the back of the F4. This name does not, in fact, come from one of those computer function keys that no one ever uses for anything (except maybe the F5 key), but instead refers to the last of four kaiju that mysteriously appeared on earth and fucked up a bunch of stuff. Okay, so far so good. Then, all of a sudden, everyone on board starts turning into eldritch abominations… and thus begins a confusing clusterfuck of unexplained randomness. The transformations may or may not have something to do with a dimensional rift called the Sway, which isn’t mentioned prior to everything going to hell, is never fully explained, and may or may not be common knowledge in the book’s world.  Carol’s creepy boss and his even creepier buddy are behind everything, because they want to sail into the Sway, but their motivation is never explained beyond some vague lust for power. Well, if it works for Saturday morning cartoon villains I guess it’s fine. There’s also a wizard who lives in the Sway and can control the Kaiju, who we’ve also never heard of before and who also isn’t really explained. Again, it’s really unclear whether this is common knowledge or not, or if the Sway is actually just some giant, extra-dimensional plot hole and we’re just expected to go with it. The weirdest part is that even though the wizard controls the kaiju, he isn’t evil despite his giant beasts killing millions of people. One of them even destroyed New York City looking for Carol (why though!?!), but fuck all those victims, I guess? Why is no one horrified by all this? Oh, and apparently Carol’s penis is some sort of magical flesh key or something, I don’t even know. Maybe her penis’ magic is why she gets erections constantly (and won’t shut up about it), despite having had an orchidectomy. Usually, having your testicles removed or going on testosterone blockers causes penis-having folk to have very few spontaneous erections (and some stop getting erections all together) so it seems really odd that Carol keeps getting constant danger boners (which would be an awesome band name) but I’m hardly an expert, so whatever.

In addition to her bartending duties, Carol also makes sex videos on the side with her friend Chole, another transwoman whom she’s slightly obsessed with. Carol’s wait staff of trans women, or “lady dicks” as she calls them, also make extra cash “servicing” the passengers of the Finasteride. This is the part that made me feel really weird. Frequently when trans people appear in fiction, it’s as some sort of sex worker, and they’re being written by cis folk who have little understanding of, or respect for both trans women or sex workers. It’s such a cliché that cops will actually harass trans women on the street because they assume they’re prostitutes. So having the majority of the trans women in a story do some sort of sex work felt problematic, especially since most of the clients appeared to consider them a fetish rather than real people. It certainly doesn’t help that Carol doesn’t even seem to like doing web-cam work, and is only tolerating it because Chole pressured her into making porn. I enjoy naked people having sexy fun times as much as the next person, especially when those people are queer and/or non-binary, and one of the things that originally drew me to F4 was the promise of erotica with trans-ladies. But when the participants are being pressured, exploited, or fetishized, porn is just gross. F4 felt more like the later. The sex scenes aren’t even arousing. One involves a toothless dude drooling in Carol’s ass crack as she feels uncomfortable and wishes it were over. Ick. Chole also gets sexually assaulted by one of the kaiju’s parasites in a really uncomfortable scene (which I think was supposed to be humorous?) and Carol does exactly jack and shit to help her friend. Maybe weird, unappealing sex is a staple of bizarro fiction, but trans women are disrespected enough in the porn industry, I was really hoping it wouldn’t happen here too.

The comic is titled “Trying to find trans porn.” The first panel says, “what I expected” and depicts me blushing and looking aroused while I imagine two women of color, one of whom is plus-sized, in an intimate situation looking lovingly at each color. The second panels says, “What I got” and shows me recoiling in horror and disgust from my laptop. A toxic green speech bubble reveals what is written on the screen, and is full of transphobic language like “Tr***y Sex”, “Trap Hentai”, and “Lady boys”.

F4 isn’t like the terrible, transphobic porn you might find online, but it’s not particularly good erotica either.

My confusion regarding the story line made it difficult to focus on the book (as did the frequent mention of dicks), and I probably would’ve given up on it completely if not for part two, the saving grace of F4. Part two is proof that Glasser really is a talented author. Instead of getting a bunch of random nonsense throw at us we get an intriguing and suspenseful, but straight forward story of Carol’s life prior to the Finasteride. Her character suddenly feels relatable. She’s dating a loser she can’t seem to dump, living in the middle of nowhere, and trying to figure out what to do with her life. Carol witnesses a murder, and tries to do the right thing by reporting it to the cops. But since no good deed goes unpunished, she finds herself in the media spot light after becoming a key witness in the murder case, and becomes a victim of an online hate campaign by a bunch of transphobic trolls. Part 2 is great! It’s intriguing, suspenseful, we finally get some explanations about what’s going on, and of course Glasser had to go and ruin it by making part 3 even more random and confusing. This just made me hate the rest of the book even more because I now knew I could’ve been enjoying a well-written story about a trans woman vs. a bunch of internet trolls, and dealing with the dilemma of being punished for doing the right thing. But instead I had to put up with awkward sex, magical girl dicks, and a series of loosely connected plot holes. So I became bitter and sulkily rushed through the third part of the story, desperate to find some of the magic from Part 2. The only thing that redeemed part 3 was Carol killing the two entitled dudebros who fucked everyone over for more power, one of whom was the leader of the internet trolls who ruined her life. That was immensely satisfying.

So yeah, I really didn’t like this book. Of course, I’m not trans (well, I am, but I wasn’t out when I first wrote this), so it’s possible my privilege was preventing me from recognizing the appeal of F4. All the reviews I had read online were overwhelming positive, so what was I missing? Was it just not intended for me? So I went to my friend, Ashley Rogers (who you may remember from the Oddity post), for help. I figured since she’s an author herself, a trans sensitivity reader, and a trans rights activist she’d be able to offer some valuable insight. Although Ashley is currently busy working on SCOWL: Fight for your Rights, a subversive, queer-focused, stage combat piece (I designed the logo so I have to shamelessly pimp the project), she was kind enough to take some time out of her busy schedule to share her opinion with me. I also asked her to explain what Glasser meant when she kept talking about “hatching eggs”, but Ashley didn’t know either, nor did any of the other trans and non-binary people I asked, and I eventually had to resort to Reddit and Urban Dictionary.

I’m climbing through the window of my friend, Ashley Roger’s, apartment (presumably having broken in). “Ashley help! What does it mean for a trans person to “hatch”? Are magical dicks empowering or weird? What about trans porn?” I ask. Ashley, a tall woman with a fashionable blue top, blond-streaked, shoulder length hair, and expertly done make-up, is sitting on the couch and leaning away from me, looking annoyed. “How do you keep getting in here?” she demands.

It turns out “eggs” refer to closeted trans folk still struggling with their identity who have not yet come into their own.

Ashley had the following to say:

First a disclaimer: Trans/n-b folk can and should be able to tell whatever stories we want.  I love bizarre and spooky material, and I want trans folk to succeed, and regardless of my feelings on this novel I am excited to see more from Larissa Glasser…
Buuuuuuuut…

My main criticism is that the piece doesn’t seem to know what it wants or who it’s written for. F4 intends to shock (evidenced by the material referenced in the piece such as Cannibal Holocaust and The Human Centipede) but it falls short of living up to those expectations.  We don’t live in the uncomfortable moments and grotesque situations long enough to care.  At most we’re left with a sense of “ok… That’s fucked up,” but then we move on to something else before we have a chance to feel unsettled.

Part two feels like a completely different (and subjectively better) novel entirely.  I was gripped by the backstory and it had a great flow, and some of the concepts are really cool (Hell, it’s about turning a Kaiju into a cruise liner!!), but as a trans woman I couldn’t help but be bored by how often Carol popped a boner in the face of danger.  One of the positive critiques I’ve seen from other trans women is that it’s a story that isn’t about a trans character who’s sad, angry, and depressed about surgical transition/dysphoria but the way the author focuses on Carol’s anatomy and overly sexual descriptions rather than creating the atmosphere distracts from the story and intriguingly bizarre concept of the piece in the same way these other pieces focus on the tragedy porn that gets written about our physical transition struggles.  If this book was all part two I would be writing a very different statement but… I wish it were either more shocking in execution or more approachable in material, but as it stands it sits in limbo of both.

I won’t lie, I feel genuinely guilty about not liking F4. I mean, everyone else loves it, and I want to be supportive of trans and non-binary folk in a cis-centric genre, but I just could not enjoy the story. I had no idea what was going on half the time, a lot of it just seemed to be weird for the sake of weirdness and contributed nothing to the story, and, the sex scenes felt more gross and exploitative than sexy and empowering. I liked the ideas behind F4, but the execution left a lot to be desired. Glasser clearly has talent as a writer, as is evident from part 2 of the story, so maybe I just don’t like bizzaro horror, I don’t know.  At the very least I can say it’s like nothing I’ve ever read before. In the mean time, I’m going to stick to reading Nerve Endings when I’m in the mood for some well written trans erotica.

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