This is the type of book that begs to be read in one sitting. It draws you in not with a Michael Myers stabs-his-sister sort of scene that instantly shocks, but with a whisper around a crackling campfire, a story told in a low voice that makes you draw your jacket around you tighter, sit closer to the flames, and try not to think about what might be watching in the dark behind your back, beyond that bright ring of safety.
I really don’t know why I’ve never heard of this book before! I was completely enamored with the style, which I thought moved seamlessly between second and third person in a way that showed a clear talent for writing that is not as easy to find as you’d think.
It is also the perfect book for the Halloween season.
I loved the way the narrative took pieces of pre-existing legends, some classic Halloween tropes, and creepy small-town vibes and mixed them together to create something entirely new and original. The way the story builds to the ultimate reveal is paced so well and that makes it all the more thrilling and heartbreaking—I truly loved every page.
What I found most compelling about the book was the way the characters grew and shifted throughout the book. You begin the book thinking about everyone one way, putting them all in one specific box, but by the end, it’s all twisted around and no one was exactly who they appeared to be on the outside. I really like that as a storytelling and character-building technique.
This will probably become a seasonal re-read for me. There is just something so evocative about the setting and the characters—it is everything I want from horror and from a damn fine story, and I’ll definitely be searching out more of Partridge’s work.
Also, wouldn’t this make a great movie? Dang, I would watch this.
Thanks to Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi and Sinister Grin Press for sending the Night Worms copies of this one to read and review!
I am not against a good monster romp, but I think it might be one of the most difficult types of stories to really get right. Sure, they can be “fun” and “gory” but to me, it takes a lot more to fully be a horror story, and more importantly, a good story.
How do you get the reader to feel for characters who they know are going to end up as cannon fodder? How do you use story tropes without falling into stereotypes and clichés? How do you create an original monster that will be compelling on the page, make readers really see it and cringe and create a memorable experience?
They Feed didn’t make the cut for me.
If you like reading horror for those moments of just getting down and dirty in a gorefest, people’s skin coming off, eyes gouging out, screaming and running with a high body count and lots of weirdness—this book will probably hit your horror sweet-spot. And there isn’t anything wrong with that. One reason I love horror is how wide-ranging the definition can be. But I guess what I’m learning is that all that sideshow fluff, however grisly and gruesome isn’t enough for me.
I still want a good story, with characters who matter. Ones who aren’t just falling into the most obvious stereotypes and seem only to be in the story at all to increase the body count.
And I’ve said it before, and I’ll probably say it again, but it does make me a little peeved when the twist turns out to be something that the reader couldn’t have guessed—not because they didn’t pick up on all the subtle hints and clues, but because the book obfuscated the truth or outright lied (as I’d argue this book does) to the readers about the intent and knowledge of the characters.
I can’t get through a review of this without mentioning how I was constantly distracted by the strange and off-putting metaphors and descriptions the author used throughout the book. And in talking with my other Worms, I know I wasn’t the only reader who felt that often, the examples the author used to describe what was going on were not only fairly repellent (not necessarily a bad thing by itself) but also wildly off-base to the point that they startled me out of reading rather than assisting my imagination with the scene.
All in all, this wasn’t a book for me. Jason Parent seems to have a pretty good fan base for his books, and I applaud that. I’m glad that there are horror fans who dig this, who want more of it—this is what makes us a great and unique bunch of weirdos. But if you’re looking for more story, with characters who will really make you feel something, this isn’t the place to get it.
I had to have this novel based on DeMeester’s dark story collection, Everything That’s Underneath, that is by turns disturbing and beautiful.
I wasn’t as impressed with Beneath as I wanted to be, but it is still a worthy horror debut that shows strong talent, a great imagination, and that the women of horror are here to make a name for themselves.
What I liked most about the novel was how many different types of horror it manages to weave into the narrative. There is the very real horror of sexual abuse and how that can impact a person emotionally and physically throughout their life. There is the horror of religion gone wrong, when beliefs become skewed toward something that was never intended. There is pure monster horror with gruesome description and cruelly inventive creatures. There is also great body horror, where it isn’t just the monsters outside, but the monsters inside that wreak havoc.
Those were my favorite scenes—the ones where the monsters and the humans were inextricable from one another. DeMeester has a definite skill for vivid and unearthly description of what is going on inside of people’s bodies. You can really feel it, and it is excellent writing and brilliant horror.
For me, the book dragged in the second half, and I had trouble understanding all of the decisions that the two main characters, Cora and Michael, made.
Rather than the characters making decisions that would direct the course of the narrative, it seemed like the narrative of this book was really the one in control. To me, that makes for a more amorphous, purposeless feeling narrative, which, while building on the dreamlike, ethereal quality of the writing (which I loved) left me feeling unanchored and waiting for something to grab hold of.
If you are a fan of strange monster stories, great writing, and body horror, this is a great book to pick up. I definitely recommend her short story collection too!
This novel is really more of an interconnected set of stories, each revolving around a different member of the Turner family and friend group, all African Americans trying to make ends meet during the Jim Crow era.
Each of them has a run-in with this Braithwaite character, a well-crafted and almost too likable villain if ever I met one, and they each battle with strange supernatural (and Lovecraftian!) situations, like alternate worlds, haunted houses, weird cults, oh, and not to mention constant racism and misogyny—but that’s just the horror they deal with every day.
Each chapter is a very distinct story, which threw me at first, as I thought we would continue on with the same characters and storyline from the first story, but eventually all the threads work together in a satisfying way.
This is definitely a great blend of historical fiction, cosmic and weird horror, pulp fiction, sci-fi, and action adventure. All the characters were extremely likable and well-crafted. It was especially big on independent, take-charge women—yes, I am a fan. In particular, I loved Leticia’s headstrong nature and how she dealt in such a no-nonsense way with the strange happenings at her new house.
I think that the point of the book is that as African Americans, the characters are able to take on the strange and fear-inspiring cosmically horrific situations without batting an eye, because once you’ve been under the type of constant scrutiny, vicious intolerance, and just flat-out hate they have, those supernatural things don’t seem like such a big deal anymore. They are pretty badass people. But it definitely makes me ashamed of my country and the lack of tolerance we still have to this day.
Lovecraft the man, in my opinion, is not wholly extricable from his works. But just because he was an overt and outspoken racist doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate the stories he crafted, his contribution to the horror genre, and the influence that he’s had on many other influential storytellers. But we don’t want to glorify him either. Like Atticus’s dad explains to him, we need to read with our eyes open, knowing where his words and ideas may have come from.
So this book is a perfect representation of that, paying homage to a great literary contribution but also saying, “Screw you, Mr. Lovecraft.” And that’s just the way it should be.
This is one for the gothic lit lovers.
With a blend of classic and contemporary short stories and poetry all centered around the theme of hauntings, there is a lot to love in the creaking old hallways, dusty bookshelves, and dark corners where sputtering candles don’t quite reach of this anthology.
Haunted house is just about my favorite sub-genre, so I knew I had to get this one when I saw the brilliant cover and some of the great writers featured in the collection. I was also really impressed with how many women horror authors were featured here.
But it isn’t just houses that can be haunted, it can be any and every place we inhabit, down to the very bodies we live in, the paths we take in life (and death), and even the other people we surround ourselves with. Hauntings are everywhere.
And this couldn’t be more evident than in the dark and stormy stylings of these stories. Taking up the mantle of the classic gothic style, I found that these stories and poems were often about relationships, love gone wrong and the haunted nature of human suffering.
Some stories build on classic tales, such as that perennial classic folktale “Bluebeard” or Edgar Allen Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher. Some are set in modern times, some are period pieces, all are wholly original and will shock you with a cold breath of air.
I found the poetry to be a bit weak overall, but the few that worked really worked. The inclusion of this different format of writing was a nice touch, especially in between the stories.
My favorite pieces were:
“The Shadows on the Wall” by Mary Wilkins Freeman, a true gothic work I'd never read before.
"Bloodbuzz of Ravens" by Sara Tantlinger, an evocative and darkly brilliant poem.
“The Call of the House of Usher” by Annie Neugebauer, a nice homage to Poe in style and substance.
“Miss Emmeline’s Mirror” by Catherine Cavendish, it'll make you think twice about mirrors!
Overall, I really enjoyed this collection. If you like gothic works, this is a good way to get a broad scope of modern and classic pieces, and perhaps find a few new authors to love.
An anthology all about the most glorious of holidays for those of us who delight in darkness and revel in terror and frightful stories? You know I’m more than game.
These fourteen all-new stories feature a few writers I was familiar with, but mostly people I’d never read before—which I consider a plus, as one of the things I really enjoy about anthologies is finding new voices to love. I would have liked to see a little more balance between genders: there were eleven stories by men and only three by women in the collection.
This was a very fun-loving (in the darkest way possible) set of stories and I really settled in to reading each story just for the pure fun of it. Each one takes on different ideas about what makes Halloween creepy, from body-snatchers, to serial killers with a thing for decoration, to things that go bump under the bed, to creepy kids, and more.
The stories are not always well-written, often sliding into that “telling” instead of “showing” zone that inexperienced writers fall prey to. I ended up rating each story individually between 3 and 4 stars, which is why the collection as a whole gets 3 stars from me. But what it lacks in sophistication, it definitely makes up for in imagination and pure originality.
All the love seeping off these pages for Halloween is clear and these stories truly evoke the season: carving pumpkins, leaves crackling underfoot, never quite knowing who is behind the masks around you. . . It makes me want to seek out more Halloween-based stories and collections!
My two favorite stories in the collection were “Vigil” by Chad Lutzke—dark and compelling with excellent visuals, and one of the quieter stories—and “Masks” by Lisa Lepovetsky, which really pulled me in from the start and created believable characters and a tense, darkly delicious situation.
I definitely recommend this book to horror and Halloween fans. It is a lot of fun and a very enjoyable read that is perfect to get you gearing up for the big night later this month!
My thanks to Corpus Press and Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi for sending the Night Worms copies of this one to read and review.
“Have you ever noticed how soulless this world has become? How empty and prefabricated? Soulless lives are hollow. We fill the earth with soulless cities, pollute ourselves with soulless albums.”
We Sold Our Souls is like the book version of a movie directed by some strange Frankenstein’s monster mash-up of Edgar Wright’s musical genius and Sam Raimi’s weird, gory humor. And I loved every single second.
At its core, this is an empowering story, one where a woman who once followed her passion has been beaten down at every turn life has given her. She decides to stop taking the shit being shoveled at her and stands up, saying, no more—even if there is a mountain standing against me, I’m going to fight.
And that’s a message that a lot of us can probably get behind right about now.
Yes, this is a book about heavy metal, something that I know little about (despite my brief foray as a teenage punk rock guitarist—it was short-lived, I sucked), have never listened to, and can’t really relate to. But everyone can relate to the angst, depression, and frustration Kris feels as someone who has made mistakes, fallen into a job she hates, and given up on a part of herself that is intrinsic to who she is, who she sees in the mirror raging behind her eyes.
Haven’t we all been there?
There is probably a moment we all can remember from our teen years when we did something that truly sparked us inside. Maybe we’ve lost that childlike joy, that incandescent wonder, that feeling of true boundlessness and infinitude and invincibility that really rocking something and going after it fully—damn the consequences—can bring.
Why do we go through our days not really living, not chasing—full-on sprinting—after whatever it is that we find fulfilling, whatever it is that makes us feel we are more than just a sack of organs and skin and barely-working brain matter?
I might not have the answer to that question, but I can say that this book fired me up. Grady Hendrix has come a long way from Horrorstor, a book I found unique in style but sorely lacking in editorial execution. While Souls doesn’t have the developed character relationships or nostalgic friendship journey that My Best Friend’s Exorcism (to my infinite delight) offered, it is an emotional roller coaster all the same, and one that is perfectly tailored to where we are as a society right now.
This wham-bam-in-your-face book just demands to be read, screams it, in that death metal-y demon screeching way, and I couldn’t get enough.
My thanks to Quirk Books for sending a copy of this one to read and review.
This is my first experience with Megan Abbott and I can definitely say I am a fan.
The focus of this book is on the darkness of the psyche and the relationship between two women in particular. It is interested in how people come in and out of our lives and how they might change everything, mean everything, even with just a few moments.
Told from the perspective of Kit, this story is set in the fiercely competitive boy's world of research science, where Kit and Diane are both paving a way for themselves. When Diane shows up at Kit's lab days before a new team is to be selected for a very prestigious study, everything about their past when they were younger comes flooding back to Kit and fills her slowly with dread and doubt about who Diane really is.
Seeing their entanglements from the past in alternating chapters was a nice technique. They are competitive, but they each push each other to be better. There is a rivalry, but there is a kinship, and on Kit's part a reverential or almost mystical view of Diane and her stark perfection. I thought I was so smart figuring out what Diane's big secret was early on. But there are so many more layers at play here.
The book swings heavily toward the psychological and the fallout that can occur when people are forced into a corner, pushed far past their comfort zone but forced to keep silent about it, and the violence that can bubble up from that. It is about the relationship between two women, but even more than the moments they spent together, it is about how their relationship grew and mythologized in the interim, in the in-between.
My thanks to Little Brown for my copy of this one to read and review.
Associate editor, amateur photdographer, bibliophile, and occasional sleuth.