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.

Oddity by Ashley Lauren Rogers

Genre: Body Horror, Historic Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Trans characters

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Illness, Medical Procedures, Transphobia/Misgendering, Violence

Blurb

A “Gender Specialist” is brought into a secret Victorian–Era medical facility deep within the earth to unravel the mystery of a series of murders and body mutilations which have taken place. As he meets the sole survivor and begins to unravel the mystery as his claustrophobic paranoia begins to overtake him the specialist finds it hard to believe anything he’s told.

So, full disclosure, this isn’t so much a review as it is an unpaid promotion for my friend’s new play Oddity, and I’ve only read the script, not seen the play itself. But fear not, this isn’t one of those situations where I felt pressured to pay compliments for the sake of our friendship, both because Ashley is an incredibly talented writer and I love reading her stuff, and because I’m an asshole who will let my friends know exactly what I think in the least tactful way imaginable. Which is probably why no one ever asks for my opinion…

My wife watched me draw this and wanted to know why I put her in such an ugly skirt. “It’s for the review honey!”

Anyway, like I said, Ashley is a talented writer who has written for CosmopolitanThe Mary Sue, SFWA, and John Scalzi Blog. And for you other writers out there looking to diversify your work, she also developed a workshop for writing trans and nonbinary narratives available on WritingTheOther.com. She’s also the one who introduced me to Rick and Morty and has fantastic hair. Neither of those things has anything to do with her writing, she just has excellent taste.

 
Ashley’s new play, Oddity, is part of the Trans Theatre Fest at The Brick in Brooklyn. It’s a creepy, suspenseful, psychological body horror play about gender that includes: flashbacks to a carnival freak show, a subterranean steampunkesque facility à la Jules Verne, and monster crabs (the crustacean kind, not the pubic lice kind).
 
 The plays starts with terrified screams and the professor (who’s never given a name) violently awakens to a doctor trying to push mysterious pills on him, a soldier “guarding” his room who won’t use his correct pronouns or let him out for “classified” reasons, and the discovery that he’s been losing time. His concerns are dismissed, his questions ignored, and he’s consistently told to calm down. The professor is experiencing classic gaslighting, and here’s the brilliant bit: between the dreams, flashbacks, lies, discrepancies, seemingly out-of-place items, and all around weird occurrences, it’s difficult to determine what’s real and what isn’t, mirroring the professor’s paranoia. At parts, I found myself frustrated because I couldn’t figure out what was going on, and unnerved by the overall feeling of “wrongness”. The body horror was pretty scary in and of itself, but it was the gaslighting that was truly terrifying. But fear not, everything makes sense in the end.
 
In fact, the ending was probably my favorite part. When everything finally falls into place it hits you like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help yelling out a few expletives in surprise (much to the annoyance of my napping cat). This was literally my reaction while reading the play: “Hmmm, okay, that’s creepy. Wait, what the…WHAT? WTF!?!!? Oh god oh god oh god, no no no no no no. Wait… but then that means… OMG. HOLY SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. WTF.” So yeah, good job Ashley, I actually yelled out loud at my computer screen after finishing your play.
 
And that was just the script. I can’t even imagine how I’d react to the actual performance, with actors Kelsey Jefferson Barrett, Kitty Mortland, Sam Lopresti, Aliyah Hakim, and Samantha Elizabeth Turlington, and directed by Ariel Mahler. So if you’d enjoy a creepy mindfuck of a play about trans people, by trans people, check out Oddity at the Brick theater (579 Metropolitan Ave, Brooklyn NY) on the following dates:
 
Thursday, July 20 @ 9:20pm
Saturday, July 22 @ 2pm
Monday, July 24 @ 9pm
 
Tickets are only $20.00 and you can purchase them here:

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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.

Oddity by Ashley Lauren Rogers

Genre: Body Horror, Historic Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Trans characters

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Abelism, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Illness, Medical Procedures, Transphobia/Misgendering, Violence

Blurb

A “Gender Specialist” is brought into a secret Victorian–Era medical facility deep within the earth to unravel the mystery of a series of murders and body mutilations which have taken place. As he meets the sole survivor and begins to unravel the mystery as his claustrophobic paranoia begins to overtake him the specialist finds it hard to believe anything he’s told.

So, full disclosure, this isn’t so much a review as it is an unpaid promotion for my friend’s new play Oddity, and I’ve only read the script, not seen the play itself. But fear not, this isn’t one of those situations where I felt pressured to pay compliments for the sake of our friendship, both because Ashley is an incredibly talented writer and I love reading her stuff, and because I’m an asshole who will let my friends know exactly what I think in the least tactful way imaginable. Which is probably why no one ever asks for my opinion…

My wife watched me draw this and wanted to know why I put her in such an ugly skirt. “It’s for the review honey!”

Anyway, like I said, Ashley is a talented writer who has written for CosmopolitanThe Mary Sue, SFWA, and John Scalzi Blog. And for you other writers out there looking to diversify your work, she also developed a workshop for writing trans and nonbinary narratives available on WritingTheOther.com. She’s also the one who introduced me to Rick and Morty and has fantastic hair. Neither of those things has anything to do with her writing, she just has excellent taste.

 
Ashley’s new play, Oddity, is part of the Trans Theatre Fest at The Brick in Brooklyn. It’s a creepy, suspenseful, psychological body horror play about gender that includes: flashbacks to a carnival freak show, a subterranean steampunkesque facility à la Jules Verne, and monster crabs (the crustacean kind, not the pubic lice kind).
 
 The plays starts with terrified screams and the professor (who’s never given a name) violently awakens to a doctor trying to push mysterious pills on him, a soldier “guarding” his room who won’t use his correct pronouns or let him out for “classified” reasons, and the discovery that he’s been losing time. His concerns are dismissed, his questions ignored, and he’s consistently told to calm down. The professor is experiencing classic gaslighting, and here’s the brilliant bit: between the dreams, flashbacks, lies, discrepancies, seemingly out-of-place items, and all around weird occurrences, it’s difficult to determine what’s real and what isn’t, mirroring the professor’s paranoia. At parts, I found myself frustrated because I couldn’t figure out what was going on, and unnerved by the overall feeling of “wrongness”. The body horror was pretty scary in and of itself, but it was the gaslighting that was truly terrifying. But fear not, everything makes sense in the end.
 
In fact, the ending was probably my favorite part. When everything finally falls into place it hits you like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help yelling out a few expletives in surprise (much to the annoyance of my napping cat). This was literally my reaction while reading the play: “Hmmm, okay, that’s creepy. Wait, what the…WHAT? WTF!?!!? Oh god oh god oh god, no no no no no no. Wait… but then that means… OMG. HOLY SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. WTF.” So yeah, good job Ashley, I actually yelled out loud at my computer screen after finishing your play.
 
And that was just the script. I can’t even imagine how I’d react to the actual performance, with actors Kelsey Jefferson Barrett, Kitty Mortland, Sam Lopresti, Aliyah Hakim, and Samantha Elizabeth Turlington, and directed by Ariel Mahler. So if you’d enjoy a creepy mindfuck of a play about trans people, by trans people, check out Oddity at the Brick theater (579 Metropolitan Ave, Brooklyn NY) on the following dates:
 
Thursday, July 20 @ 9:20pm
Saturday, July 22 @ 2pm
Monday, July 24 @ 9pm
 
Tickets are only $20.00 and you can purchase them here:

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