Happy New Year!
I mean… so far it’s been… gestures at the world and rolls eyes so far back in my head I can see the little gremlin that controls my brain but there’s time for it to get better, right?
You may notice that these book blogs look a little nicer going forward vis a vis formatting and that they have more advanced features like images and that those images link to things; in an attempt to conserve funds, I’ve been working off an iPad for the past several years which has meant working off Squarespace’s mobile app which has not been ideal. A couple of weeks ago, I decided it was time to upgrade so I am currently coming to you from a brand new MacBook and other than the power cord already dying an ignoble death for no apparent reason (always get the Apple Care, kids) it’s been wonderful. And much, much prettier.
You’re here for books, though, so let’s get to it.
There are stories in Never Whistle at Night that scared the ever-loving shit out of me and I don’t scare easy. And it wasn’t the ones that were straight horror that did it; it was the work that accessed something darker and even more primal, something so heavy and so dense that I quite literally felt spectral fingers dragging through my amygdala, grabbing tight, twisting, and holding on. I don’t dream very often (no, it isn’t that I don’t remember, I don’t dream, sleep study tested and approved) but I had some weird ass dreams while I was reading through this collection, dreams that had one of my cats pawing at my face to wake me up because he could tell something wasn’t right. I still read every single story.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Well, it’s certainly not for everyone. But I think bring really, truly terrified once in a while keeps us humble; it reminds us there will always be things we can’t and don’t understand and renews our sense of magic and awe. It’s also good practice, Colton Scrivner reminds us in Morbidly Curious, for any scary situations that might present themselves in real life.
So, do I recommend Never Whistle at Night? I do with the caveat that only you know your limits and if it goes places you’re not comfortable with, there’s no shame in skipping stories or putting the book down.
Blood on Her Tongue takes a second to get in to.
Do yourself a favor and give it that second because once it gets rolling it will quickly become one of your favorite vampire novels of the decade.
I can’t really tell you too much more about it because that would ruin the delightful and morbid surprises but I will say this: the new additions to vampire lore you’ll find in these pages is innovate and brilliant, the ways in which it interacts with the plot genius, and the ways in which Van Veen uses it to craft moments of both humor and pathos immaculate. That it begins as so many other tales of the genre do and then veers off into something wholly its own while acknowledging conventions and twisting them to accommodate what’s new and different kept me engaged and engrossed.
I would have read another 100 pages and those of you who come here regularly know how powerful a commendation that is coming from me.
Get this one immediately and clear your schedule. You won’t want to put it down.
Stephen Graham Jones is one of my favorite authors; not only is he a master of horror, but he always manages to do something interesting with it, something different. To find a perspective I would never have considered, a story I would never have thought to tell.
Mongrels has some fantastic moments of werewolf horror. Some of the most well-written ones I’ve ever read. But at its heart, that’s not what this book is about.
This book is about belonging.
About being part of a family. About being on the fringes of an outsider community.
But it’s also about the logistics of being a monster. Because surviving on the fringes of an outsider community means learning the rules and following them or risking not only yourself but the very few people you love and who love you, who will fight for you, who will die for you, and who will live for you.
Take the trash out everyday. Wear denim and cotton. Don’t tempt the local wildlife biologist with glitter scat.
Mongrels has me thinking a lot about my own writing, about how much bigger my worlds could be, about how to balance those details with story, how much of it is story. I’m certainly not the writer SGJ is; guess it’s a good thing I trust my editor.
CW: child death
I usually stay away from horror with dead kids; I have kids and it’s one of the few tropes I have a hard time with. I broke my rule here because I do really like St. James’s books and ended up being okay with the way that storyline played out but if that’s a difficult subject for you, read cautiously.
As I’ve said before, I like haunted house stories wherein the house is a character; while the house isn’t independent in this one, it’s definitely a necessary player, so A Box Full of Darkness definitely scratched that itch. I also like stories where estranged siblings are forced to work together to solve a problem and reconnect in the process for… reasons; I appreciate, however, when those siblings and their relationships remain imperfect because, well, people are imperfect and even best efforts can only result whatever everyone’s best is.
The horror in this one was… diffuse is the best word to explain it. Not diluted as in watered down but diffuse in that it drifted from its point of origin and spread like an invasive species too infect a larger area. St. James describes it perfectly and it really increased the creep factor, trapping Vail, Violet, and Dodie in its clammy tentacles. A+
I’m always excited when St. James has a new one and I’m never disappointed.
There you have it: first reviews of the year. Up next is The Wandering Queen and we shall proceed from there by release date and library due date. Back soon.