Diversity in Horror Fiction

Antenora by Dori Lumpkin

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

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Creature Publishing

Genre: Myth and Folklore, Psychological Horror

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Non-binary author, queer women main characters

Takes Place in: Alabama

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

Blurb

Antenora: Dante’s ninth circle of hell reserved for traitors to their country. What really happened to Nora Willet? The religious community of Bethel, Alabama can’t agree on the truth. They always said she was trouble. Later, they said she was possessed. Maybe she lost her mind, killing three people and injuring many others. In a part confessional, part plea for Nora to come home, Nora’s childhood friend Abigail Barnes tells of another girl’s gruesome eighteenth birthday, of the time Nora may have fully revived a snake, of the intimacy of their private encounters at the lakeside, of Nora’s deliverance ceremony. Where, Abigail wonders, is Nora now? In this tender and horrific debut, religious dogmatism sniffs out two girls whose innocent affections threaten an entire town and way of life, making one a traitor to a homeland in which only Abigail and Nora know the bittersweet truth. A homeland in which Nora can only say, “There’s a snake speaking to me, Abby-girl.”
Nora and Abigail are best friends who live in the small town of Bethel, an insular religious community in Alabama surrounded by mountains. The girls have been inseparable since they were seven, despite their differences. Abigial is a “good girl,” quiet, Godly, and submissive like the town expects women to behave. But Nora is the opposite–opinionated, strong, and brave–which angers the people of Bethel and the town leader, pastor David. But what makes the rest of the town hate her is what draws Abigail to Nora, and the reason she’s secretly in love with her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Devouring Light by Kat Ellis

The Devouring Light by Kat Ellis. Recommended. Read if you like found footage, isolation horror

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: HarperCollins

Genre: Body Horror, Demon

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Queer main character, Major character with substance use disorder, Biracial Japanese side character, Black major character

Takes Place in: Oregon

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Animal Death, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Forced Captivity, Gore, Illness, Medical Procedures, Sexism, Stalking, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Vomit

Blurb

When Haden Romero and her rival, Deacon Rex—alongside their bands, including Haden’s ex, Cairo—are stranded on their way to a rock festival, she thinks missing the gig is the worst thing that could happen.

She’s wrong.

Marooned in treacherous swamplands with no way out, the group stumbles upon an eerie, decaying house. It seems like a safe haven, a place to wait out the storm.

The house, however, isn’t just abandoned—it’s been waiting for them.

Bodies begin to pile up. The walls start to close in. Twisted secrets come to light. And unless Haden and the others can survive long enough to escape, the house will claim them—forever.

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.

When Haden Romero was 13 years old, she got kicked off the singing competition show Little Stars. As far as she’s concerned getting booted from the show is the reason she’s not famous, her parents are divorced, her dad wants nothing to do with her, and her life just generally sucks. And it’s entirely the fault of Deacon Rex, who went on become famous after winning the singing competition. As far as she’s concerned, he’s the entire reason she was kicked off Little Stars. Years later, Haden still can’t let go of what happened. Now she’s in a struggling band called Phantomic with her best friend Kizi, still hoping to catch her big break.

The two girls are headed to Rock-o’-Lantern when Haden’s ancient 1968 Lincoln Continental breaks down. And just because the universe likes to kick her when she’s already down, Haden discovers the tour bus for Deacon Rex’s band, Rex Mori, is stopped at the same gas station they’ve pulled into. Awesome. But as much as she hates Deacon, Haden still feels the need to warn him about a creepy guy she saw muttering about bringing Deacon “to the Light” in the gas station bathroom. She hopes that’s the end of it until Kizi, who loves Rex Mori, convinces Deacon to give them a ride to Rock-o’-Lantern because their car broke down. And that’s when Haden learns that her ex-girlfriend, Cairo, is Rex Mori’s new drummer. The awkward meter is officially off the charts.

But wait, there’s more! Haden’s already bad is about to get infinitely worse. The GPS takes the tour bus to a canyon in the middle of nowhere where they subsequently crash and fall into a creepy swamp. Haden wakes up alone on the crashed bus to find the driver dead, Rex alone in the swamp with an injured leg (which he won’t stop whining about), and Kizi, Cairo, and Deacon’s bandmate, Shane, all missing. And of course, their cellphones don’t work (because horror). As they stumble along a gravel pathway that glows with an eerie light (one of the few things visible in the foggy swamp) they eventually stumble upon a large house called The Light. It soon becomes apparent that they’re trapped in the swamp and the abandoned, creepy as fuck house is their only shelter.

Haden tends to be her own worse enemy and is terrified of messing everything up like she did on Little Stars. Even though she blames Deacon for what happened, she still thinks of herself as a failure and her stage parents have done nothing to help that impression. She can act like a spoiled brat at times and is obsessed with becoming a famous signer (yay for imperfect heroines!), but she’s also extremely loyal to her friends and is willing to put aside her grudge to help Deacon (although not without tons of snark). I like that even though Haden feels jealous that Cairo has a new girlfriend she pushes it down because survival is more important right now. I feel like in a lot of YA books the characters get pulled into petty relationship drama instead of focusing on trying to stay alive. I get that teen hormones often win out over rational thinking and teenagers will get upset for seemingly no reason (at least not one that adults can understand).

Hell, I remember crying in the bathroom at 16 because we were out of milk and my parents wouldn’t drive me to the store at 9:00 at night to get more (my undiagnosed mental illness may have also played a part in that). I also believed my parents were the worst parents in the entire world because they forced me to go to a school dance because I “need to at least see what it’s like, just give it a chance.” I spent the entire time sulking, refusing to have fun or socialize because I didn’t want my parents to be right. So yeah, teenagers aren’t the most logical creatures. But that doesn’t mean they’re stupid, and I feel like when survival mode kicks in no one is going to care who stole whose boyfriend. Unfortunately, a lot of YA authors seem to disagree with me and that’s always been a pet peeve of mine. So, I appreciate that Ellis didn’t do that.

I loved how Ellis was able to make the story feel atmospheric and build suspense without letting the plot feel like it was dragging. Every time I felt myself starting to get bored, bam, something new and exciting happened that would only deepen the mystery. The Light was a genuinely creepy setting, it kind of reminded me of those old point-and-click adventure horror games like Scratches or Sanitarium where you had a limited space to explore for clues (usually by clicking randomly on everything) and couldn’t leave the area for plot reasons (limited memory and budgets). Weird stuff keeps happening, like footprints leading to nowhere in the hallway, strange white leeches that feed on flesh instead of blood, and mysterious breathing coming from the walls. Deacon believes it’s ghosts, but Haden thinks there’s a more logical, non-supernatural explanation and Ellis takes her time revealing which it is. The police interviews, video transcripts, and internet comments sprinkled throughout the book gave the story a kind of a found footage vibe while revealing more of The Light’s backstory, which I enjoyed as a narrative device.

In terms of representation, the cast is pretty diverse. Haden is a lesbian, Cairo is Black and queer, and Kizi is half Japanese. And for the most part, it’s not problematic. When the author mentioned Dean’s sister, Sam, had Down syndrome my first thought was “oh no” because I was worried she’d be written in an ableist way because of her disability. But she’s not, Haden just mentions it offhand and then moves on to how Sam is so supportive of Deacon and how he blames himself for her having to quit a job she loved because she was being harassed by the paparazzi. We don’t learn much about Sam, but when she is described it’s not in an infantilizing or pitying (at least in terms of her disability, it sucks that she has to quit her job) way, which I appreciated. I wish we could have learned more about her relationship with Deacon. The only thing that made me side eye was Kizi’s blue hair, which felt too much like the rebellious East Asian woman with colorful hair trope which is so overused it’s become problematic.

The Devouring Light is about the downsides of fame, and what people will do achieve it. The book’s prologue is a police interview with a Youtuber who went to the mysterious swamp looking for The Light with his friend, in an attempt to garner more views. It does not go well for them. All the characters trapped in the swamp want to make it big (not just Haden), even Deacon who’s already pretty popular. He admits that while leaving his family to pursue a music career hurt, and he sometimes questions if he made the right choice, he would do it again in a heartbeat. This makes Haden think about what she’d be willing to give up for fame.  I won’t spoil the ending but I will say it was definitely not what I was expecting. But that’s the great thing about horror, it does surprise endings so well.

Tags: Asian, Asian American, BIPOC, Biracial, Black, Body Horror, Book Review, Demon, Disability, Japanese, Lesbian, LGBTQIA, Queer, Substance Use Disorder, Young Adult

The Unfinished by Cheryl Isaacs

The Unfinished by Cheryl Isaacs. Recommended. Read if you like atmospheric, slow burn horror

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: HarperCollins

Genre: Demon, Eco Horror, Folk Horror

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) and Jamacian-American

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

Blurb

In this debut YA horror novel by Cheryl Isaacs (Mohawk), small-town athlete Avery is haunted by the black water and Unfinished beings of Kanyen’kehá:ka stories and must turn to the culture she hasn’t felt connected to in order to save her town.

The black water has been waiting. Watching. Hungry for the souls it needs to survive.

When small-town athlete Avery’s morning run leads her to a strange pond in the middle of the forest, she awakens a horror the townspeople of Crook’s Falls have long forgotten.

Avery can smell the water, see it flooding everywhere; she thinks she’s losing her mind. And as the black water haunts Avery—taking a new form each time—people in town begin to go missing.

Though Avery had heard whispers of monsters from her Kanyen’kehá:ka (Mohawk) relatives, she’s never really connected to her Indigenous culture or understood the stories. But the Elders she has distanced herself from now may have the answers she needs.

When Key, her best friend and longtime crush, is the next to disappear, Avery is faced with a choice: listen to the Kanyen’kehá:ka and save the town but lose her friend forever…or listen to her heart and risk everything to get Key back.

In her stunning debut, Cheryl Isaacs pulls the reader down into an unsettling tale of monsters, mystery, and secrets that refuse to stay submerged.

The story begins with Avery, a Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) teenager living in Crook’s Falls, going on her morning run through the forest. She’s trying to get a cross-country scholarship to afford university as she and her mother struggle financially, especially after her parents’ divorce. Avery did her first run for cancer research at age 7 and immediately fell in love. She explains “[Running] had been and still was the closest thing I could imagine to flying.” It also helps still her mind of racing thoughts. Her mother, along with everyone else, has told Avery to never leave the forest path for her own safety (though they don’t elaborate as to why). But apparently, Avery’s never heard the story of Red Riding Hood and decides to do just that. While she doesn’t encounter any wolves, Avery does come across a hidden meadow with a strange, black pond that gives her a sense of unease. When she peers into it, her reflection smiles at her. Thoroughly freaked out Avery manages to stumble her way back to the path and runs home.

Her overprotective mother, Violet, was worried about her daughter going on an early morning excursion without leaving a note, but Avery blows off her concern (something she does frequently with her friends as well). At first, Avery doesn’t treat her–or her friends, Key and Stella– that well, mostly because she’s so reserved and pushes them away when things get too emotionally heavy for her. But her friends accept these aspects of her and are supportive (Avery is essentially an introvert who was adopted by two extroverts, which is usually how introverts like me make friends). She even admits “And here it was—the maddening part of my personality that just couldn’t deal with Serious Feelings Talk. Sharing. Vulnerability. I couldn’t do any of it, even when I wanted to… But just like my mom, I found sharing scary. Unlike her, I was basically a coward.” Avery does get better as the story progresses though.

Avery finds that the black water seems to have followed her home, showing up in her dreams, her shower, her coffee, and even flooding a bus she’s riding. She has strange visions no one else can see that get progressively worse as time passes. Sleep deprived with frayed nerves Avery tries to open up about what’s happening to others, but people either don’t believe her or tell her to just ignore it. Avery is beginning to question her sanity when folks start to disappear, and she realizes it’s all connected to the Black water and a strange pale figure called “The Ragged Man.”

I found the most interesting part of the story to be Avery’s character development. She starts the book feeling disconnected from her culture and holding the world at arm’s length. Avery just can’t deal with her emotions or opening up to others. Part of this is because Avery thinks that if she speaks something, that makes it real, but if she just suppresses it then it will go away. This is based on her belief that she caused her parents divorce by asking them if they were getting divorced: her question made it happen. Although she understands intellectually that can’t be true, it doesn’t stop her from believing it. As Avery explains, “…saying things can make them real, and when they’re real, they can be taken away.” But as the story progresses Avery finds her strength by connecting to others.

Part of Avery’s disconnect from her Kanien’kehá:ka heritage is because her mother refused to teach her about it growing up. Avery explains “I think Mom was afraid it might do me more harm than good, marking me as different in a world that only claimed to value diversity.” This also may be a remanent of the lasting damage done by residential schools. As Noetta, an Osage, Mvskoke Creek, and Seminole woman explained in an interview with PBS “There are some Natives that were so affected by their boarding school experiences that they chose not to raise their children in the traditional ways” resulting in a loss of culture between the generations. As is perfectly summarized by the website Native Hope “All of these current challenges—lack of educational opportunity, physical and mental health disparities, the intense impact of historical trauma, lack of economic independence—are part of the great tragedy facing Native Americans: the loss of Native American culture and identity.”

For example, Avery’s can’t understand when her Ihstá (aunt), Lily, tries to speak Kanyen’kéha (the Kanien’kehá:ka language) to her, only knowing a few words because her mother never taught Avery their language. This loss of culture and community may be part of the reason Avery struggles so much with her mental health and feels like she must be independent, never relying on others for help. Unlike the traditional western approach to Wellness which focuses primarily on the body, Native communities often have a more holistic approach. According to the Canadian Health Justice website “There is immense diversity in approaches to wellness among different Indigenous communities however, a core concept of health and wellness common to First Nations, Métis, and Inuit people is that people, earth, and everything around us are deeply interconnected and that wellness comes from holistic internal and external balance that goes beyond the absence of illness.” Without these important connections Avery’s mental health suffers.

Obviously, I can never understand the struggles American Indians go through, nor what it feels like to have your culture erased by residential schools (amongst other forms of cultural genocide), and I won’t pretend to. But I still found myself relating to Avery’s longing for a culture erased by colonialism. As some of you are aware, I’m half Black (though white passing), and while Black Americans do have their own rich culture, it doesn’t hurt any less knowing that generations worth of culture and knowledge have been erased by the enslavement of Africans by Euro-Westerners. While some remnants of African cultures still remain (like in music, food, religion, and even speech) it’s not the same thing as knowing how to speak the language of my ancestors or follow their spiritual beliefs because I don’t know what those were, and there’s really no way of finding out what specific region of Africa my family came from (genetic testing can narrow it down to a general area, but not a culture).

I know it’s not the same, but Avery’s despair over feeling like she was losing her roots stirred up grief and frustration in me. It was the same feeling I get when my white mother talks about the genealogy research she does for her side of the family (who are horrible people I don’t like) that she can trace back hundred of years. I would love to do that with the Black side of my family (who I’m much closer to), because that information was erased when they were enslaved. Again, I can’t really know how Avery feels, but I know how she made me feel. I guess what I’m saying is this book stirred up a lot of deep-rooted feelings for me. Avery feeling like she wasn’t part of her culture, or had a right to tell their stories really resonated with me as a biracial person who sometimes feel like an intruder in both my parent’s cultures. For Avery, reconnecting to her family and culture, and learning to rely on her friends, is the best way for her to heal and holds the key to defeating the black water.

The black water reminded me of MMIW and Native children taken from their families by the government. It’s supernatural metaphor for very real problems destroying Native communities today. When the black water steals someone the community finds reasons to excuse their absence, like “they ran away from home” and the police show little to no interest in their disappearance. I found the black water to be especially creepy, and at first, I believed it had to be based on some real-world legend. But no, it was entirely Isaac’s own invention, which I found impressive. The black water felt like a story passed down as a warning from generation to generation, and not something the author just invented for the book. However, Isaac does use some traditional stories in her narrative. Avery reflects on Haudenosaunee (the six Iroquois Nations) creation story of Sky Woman, at first believing  Sky Woman’s fall from the Sky World is something terrifying, a punishment for being too curious. But a Kanien’kehá:ka elder makes her realize that if Sky Woman hadn’t fallen, we wouldn’t have Turtle Island (the name used by some American Indians for what Euro-Westerners call North and Central America) or the Haudenosaunee people. So, although change can be scary, good things can come from it.

This made it the antagonist of the story even creepier, and this was definitely a creepy book, filled with a general sense of unease. But it wasn’t scary per se, so perfect for people who want to dip their toes in the shallow end of the horror pool. Your personal experience may vary, but I think this will appeal to fans who don’t usually read horror. You’ll also notice there aren’t a lot of trigger warnings for this book. The Unfinished feels very approachable, but if you’re a hardened horror fan, you may be disappointed at the lack of scares. I liked how the story centers around a teenage girl trying to save the boy she’s crushing on, a nice inversion of the “damsel in distress” trope, and the message about building community and relationships.

I personally feel that The Unfinished would have worked better as a novella, as the story really dragged for me. The pacing is much slower than I usually prefer, focusing more on atmosphere, emotion, and building suspense than action. Which is fine, it just didn’t grab my attention as much as other books. Keep in mind however, I do struggle with ADHD so I tend to prefer a fast pace with a lot going on over atmospheric reads. Those who do like a slow buildup of suspense and in-depth character studies will probably have no issue with the lack of action. I also found that the story was very repetitive; Avery sees something creepy, gets scared, goes to someone for help but then has trouble actually asking for help then runs away, lather, rinse, repeat. I understand this was probably to give Avery more time to develop her character, but to me it came off as unnecessary padding, which just reinforced my opinion that this would have worked better as a shorter story. The only other fault I found is something that’s admittedly, very nitpicky. I just really wished that Avery and Key could have just been friends instead of having an awkward crush get in the way, but that’s just my queer aversion to hetero romance tropes and I feel like most readers won’t care about that. Even though I had some issues with the length of the book I still enjoyed the story and its message, and I think it will be relatable to many BIPOC people who feel disconnected from their culture.

*If you want to learn more about the Haudenosaunee confederacy, I highly recommend the Iroquois Museum in Howes Cave, NY. I visited it years ago and found the museum highly informative and had great conversations with the staff and an elder who had painted the mural in the museum. If you’re not near New York the museum’s website has virtual tours and an online gift shop that sells educational books.

Tags: American Indian, BIPOC, Book Review, Demon, Folk Horror, Mohawk, Own Voices, Recommended, Young Adult

You’ve Awoken Her by Ana Dávila Cardinal

You've Awoken Her by Ann Dávila Cardinal. Recommended. Read if you like Cthulhu, Criticizing Classism

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: HarperCollins

Genre: Eldritch Horror, Mystery

Audience: Young Adult

Diversity: Puerto Rican main character and author, main character with anxiety disorder

Takes Place in: The Hamptons, NY

Content Warnings (Highlight to view): Ableism, Child Endangerment, Classism, Death, Forced Captivity, Mental Illness, Racism, Police Harassment

Blurb

All Gabi wants is to spend the summer in his room, surrounded by his Funkos and books, but with his mom traveling, his bags are packed for the last place he wants to visit—the Hamptons. Staying with his best friend should have him willing to peek out of his cave, but ever since Ruth’s nouveau riche family moved, their friendship has been off.

Surrounded by mansions, country clubs, and Ruth’s new boyfriend, Frost Thurston—the axis that Hampton society orbits around—it doesn’t take long for Gabi to feel completely out of place. But when he witnesses a woman being pulled under the ocean water, and no one—not the police or anyone else in the Hamptons—seems to care, Gabi starts to wonder if maybe the beachside town’s bad vibes are more real than he thought.

As the “accidental” deaths and drownings begin to climb, Gabi knows he’ll need proof to convince Ruth they’re all in danger. And while the Thurston family name keeps rising to the top, along with every fresh body, what’s worst is that all the signs point to something lurking beneath the water—something with tentacles and a thirst for blood. Can Gabi figure out how the two are intertwined and put an end to the string of deaths…before becoming the water’s next victim?

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

As an introvert, being forced out of my cave of books and horror movies and into new social situations is not my idea of a good time. Even more so if it means being surrounded by rich white people. I’ve seen Get Out, I know how that story ends. But that’s exactly how Gabriel (Gabi for short) is meant to spend his summer, with his white, Nouveau Riche best friend Ruth. Ruth has invited Gabi to her new house in the Hamptons to meet all her new, rich friends and basically make sure her bestie doesn’t spend the summer in his room glued to his computer. If you’re not familiar with the Hamptons, it’s a popular seaside resort with a large artist community where wealthy New Yorkers like to summer. But the Hamptons aren’t exclusively white (even if it sometimes seems that way). Sag Harbor was a refuge for upper and middle class Blacks starting in the 1940s and the Shinnecock Nation were the original inhabitants and still reside there today (which Cardinal makes a point of mentioning). And of course, there’s the Hampton’s Latin American population who make up the bulk of the workforce there.

Gabi adores Ruth (platonically): she’s feisty, independent, and extremely loyal to the people she loves. Unfortunately, who she loves right now is a guy name Frost who is the absolute worst. Gabriel has put up with Ruth’s bad taste in men for years, but Frost is definitely the bottom of the barrel:an arrogant hip-hop producer who’s used to getting his way. It’s interesting how Frost (not his actual name) profits off Black music while being white and owns a Basquiat (a Black, neo-expressionist street artist who rose to fame in the 1980s and sadly died of a heroin overdose at the age of 27), without sharing the artist’s anti-capitalist views or even really recognizing the themes of colonialism and class struggle in the artwork. It’s clear he only cares about Black culture as far as it makes him look cool. He also calls Ruth “Tiki” because her paternal great-grandmother was Native Hawaiian. Ew. But Ruth is Gabi’s best friend so he tries his best to get along with her new beau, no matter how loathsome he finds him. Okay, admittedly, he could try and be a little more accepting and less judgmental of everyone in the Hamptons, but Frost totally deserves it. The Hamptons aren’t completely terrible, though. Gabi gets to meet Lars, a pansexual restaurant owner who grew up in South Boston (yay Boston) and Georgina, a bartender and fellow horror fan with a dry sense of humor (and part of the aforementioned Latine workforce) who he strikes up a friendship with.

The Irony of the Negro Policeman painting done in Acrylic and oilstick on wood. A neo-expressionist painting of a Black man in a midnight blue police uniform with a skull-like face. The red and blue top hat he wears resembles a cage.

Irony of Negro Policeman by Jean-Michel Basquiat in 1981. Acrylic and oilstick on wood.

The class divide is clearly putting a strain on their friendship, with Gabi feeling afraid of getting replaced by Ruth’s new friends and left behind. Ruth is concerned by what she sees at Gabi’s lack off support and is also afraid of losing him. And it doesn’t help that Frost is whispering in her ear that Gabi’s jealous of her new life and trying to ruin it for him. It’s causing understandable tension and neither of them are entirely at fault for it. Gabi tends to deal with his insecurity by being snarky, even when people are trying to be nice to him, while Ruth keeps forcing Gabi into situations that make him uncomfortable and trying to get him to be friends with Frost. Clearly, both of them need to read up on Michael Suileabhain-Wilson’s Five Geek Social Fallacies, namely Geek Social Fallacy #4: Friendship Is Transitive (Ruth doesn’t seem to get that not all of her friends will get along, and that’s okay) and Geek Social Fallacy #3: Friendship Before All (Gabi needs to accept that Ruth is allowed to go off and live her own life without it being a slight on him).

While annoying at times, I think their behavior is not uncommon for young adults who are still learning the intricacies of relationships. As a grown up with a fully developed frontal lobe and years of experience with friendships, yes, the character’s behavior can be annoying. But for teenagers who have been friends since early childhood and are probably facing the idea of growing apart for the very first time, their actions make sense. Hell, I probably would have responded the same way at their age. And here is where I remind everyone this book is written for young adults, so if you’re older, you may not find the characters relatable. But that’s okay, the book isn’t for you. And honestly, I found both Gabi and Ruth well developed and likeable, even when they were acting like brats (again, they’re teenagers, it comes with the territory). I also really appreciated that there was no hint of romance between two friends. It’s nice to see them just be friends, as the “men and women can’t be friends” trope is one of my pet peeves.

I’ve written before about how Lovecraft was a racist, sexist, xenophobic, antisemitic asshole to the point that even his wife and friends were calling him out on it. So, I love when marginalized authors use his works to create their own, progressive stories. The Horror at Red Hook is basically about how Black and Brown immigrants are a plague, so I love that Cardinal subverts this by making the white inhabitants the invaders instead (which historically they are) and gentrification the real plague on society. The wealthy colonizers are repeatedly compared to white poplars, an invasive tree species that was first introduced in the mid-18th century from Eurasia and that outcompetes many native North American species of plant.

There’s also a lot of talk of appropriation in the horror genre. Gabi’s online nemesis, @SonicReducer, points out that modern zombies are a whitewashed version of the original Haitian zombies who were a symbol of slavery. We learn from Georgina that Lovecraft stole his ideas of Cthulhu and the Great Old Ones from other cultures where the creatures actually existed, tying into the book’s themes of colonization. In reality Lovecraft was more likely inspired by Alfred Tennyson’s poem The Kraken and The Gods of Pegāna by Lord Dunsany. He despised anything that wasn’t Anglo-Saxon so I have a difficult time imagining he would have been willing to draw from cultures he viewed as “lesser” for his ideas. Still, fiction requires a willing suspension of disbelief and not me nitpicking a story about an eldritch horror terrorizing the Hamptons, so I’m willing to let it go for the sake of enjoying the story. Plus, it ties into the story’s themes of colonization.

A poorly drawn sketch of Cthulhu in profile sitting on a square drawn by H.P. Lovecraft. The date says May 11th, 1934. H.P. Lovecraft has written underneath the drawing. The words

A sketch of Cthulhu done by H.P. Lovecraft. Clearly Lovecraft was a better writer than he was an artist.

There is some ableism in the book, Gabi describes someone speaking to him as if he has a single digit IQ and refers to another character as looking like a “junkie” (a cruel name for people with substance use disorder), which I was not a fan of. Gabi also refers to Georgina’s make up as “punk rock war paint,” which made me side-eye. But overall, the book wasn’t especially problematic in any way.

I enjoyed the mystery elements, as I’m a total nerd when it comes to research and love when characters go to the library to discover the town’s dark past. In this case, Gabi and Georgina try to discover why people keep disappearing in the town, and if Frost’s family might be behind it. It’s pretty obvious who the bad guys are from the beginning so the mystery elements come more from how they’re making people disappear, why, and who’s next. There’s a sense of dread the hangs over the whole story that I found very effective. The pacing was decent, with enough horror elements to keep the book moving without sacrificing character development. Overall, You’ve Awoken Her is a good book for those looking for scares that aren’t too intense or gory. Body parts are found on the beach, but that’s about as gruesome as things get. While Gabi makes many references to horror films (both real and fictional) you don’t have to be a hardcore fan to enjoy the book.

Tags: Anxiety Disorder, BIPOC, Book Review, Disability, Eldritch, Hispanic/Latinx, Latine/Latino, Mental Illness, Mystery, Own Voices, Puerto Rican, Recommended, Young Adult

They Bloom at Night by Trang Thanh Tran

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

 

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Bloomsbury

Genre: Body Horror, Eco Horror

Audience: Print, audio, digital

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

Takes Place in: Louisiana

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo of a red tide from WMBF News.

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

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

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

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing

Genre: Blood & Guts, Mystery, Occult

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Gay author, two main characters with mental illness

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

I’m Sorry if I Scared You by Mae Murray

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Medusa Publishing Haus

Genre: Body Horror, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

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

Takes Place in: Arkansas

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This Thing is Starving Isobel Aislin

 

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

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Independently Published

Genre: Ghosts/Haunting, Historic Horror

Audience: Adult/Mature

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

Takes Place in: Pennsylvania

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

Blurb

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

But this house wants you to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Malicia by Steven dos Santos

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Page Street Publishing

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

Audience: Young Adult

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

Takes Place in: The Dominican Republic

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feeding Lucy by Mo Medusa

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Crooked Foot Press

Genre: Occult

Audience: Adult/Mature

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

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

Blurb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An example of what girls wear for Saint Lucia

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

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

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

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

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

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