Our power went out at 0130…
… and everything thunking off woke me up so I’m sort of at a loss for a clever title today. I read a lot of really good stuff this week, though, so let’s say I’m saving the brain power I do have to write extra insightful and stunning reviews of all those books because each and every one of them deserves my best.
Haven’t Killed in Years by Amy K. Green (Berkley, 11/18)
Picture this: Your father is a notorious serial killer. Your mother helped him hide the bodies. When they went to prison, (redacted) changed your identity and hid you in east bumfuck Pennsylvania so that no one would ever connect you to either of them. Now an adult, you’re living the most unremarkable, boring, normal life possible in the suburbs of Boston, passing the days as quietly as you can when, suddenly body parts start showing up at your door. One by one, suspects, including your father and the members of his cult of personality are alabied out. So who’s doing it, whose parts are they, and why are they targeting you?
And what’s a girl to do when living according to society’s rules hasn’t protected her the way everyone promised? When being invisible hasn’t kept danger from her doorstep? She might start to wonder if there wasn’t something to her father’s training after all. The training that made her feel special. The training that made her feel powerful. The training that made murder seem like a viable option.
Haven’t Killed in Years takes a minute to really get going but, honestly, once it does, all the better to make you question everything you think you know about humanity and morality once it does. The plot of the novel is fascinating in and of itself but what really kept me riveted was the examination of POV character (can’t really call her a protagonist) Gwen/Marin’s psyche and the ways in which the little rational observer in her mind gradually lost control of her greater self (I too have a rational observer but mine monitors when I’m stuck in thought loops or when my anxiety is behaving in pathological fashion). Her progress over the course of the story is a fascinating study of the ways in which even the smartest, most well-informed, self-aware of us can fall prey to the need to be loved and cherished, to search throughout life for the approval of the adults who shaped us, and to fall back on… let’s go with “unhealthy coping strategies,” even when we know better, even as we watch ourselves do the thing we promised we would never do. It’s also a study in the power parents have over their children, a reminder that while nature always plays a role, nurture can do at least as much to damage a psyche than many predispositions.
And all that without even bringing pathology in to it.
And, I mean, serial killers. And mysteries. And two final girls.
It was especially interesting to read Haven’t Killed in Years the same week I read Morbid Curiosity: A Scientist Explains Why We Can’t Look Away, which I’m going to discuss more down below, considering Scrivner’s theory on horror as threat simulation and training. I wonder if I’m more prepared to stick with my rational observer now. Or to avoid joining a weird serial killer worship cult. Guess we’ll find out on the first. I’m kind of hoping the second is one of the smoke alarm trials Scrivner talks about; the false alarms you tolerate and then never have to actually deal with. Yeesh.
Oh, also, reading a serial killer book set in your old stomping grounds? Extra creepy, 10/5 stars, do recommend.
Haven’t Killed in Years: https://bookshop.org/a/56337/9780593953501
I Wanna Be Your Girl, Vol. 2 by Umi Takase (InkPop, 11/4)
I absolutely loved Vol. 1 of I Wanna Be Your Girl (review here: https://www.swsondheimer.com/book-reviews/busy-week) in which we met Akira, a transgirl out for the first time publicly, and her best friend, Hime, who wants nothing more than for Akira to be happy and accepted, which she manifests by protecting Akira whenever, and however, she can. Hime even decides to wear the boy’s version of their school uniform though she, herself, is cis, just so Akira doesn’t feel alone
In this second volume, things get a little more complicated.
Hime realizes she has feelings for Akira that Akira doesn’t return. The boy Akira is crushing on compliments Hime when Hime goes back to wearing the girl’s uniform; this makes Hime uncomfortable, which she tells Akira and Akira gets angry at Hime, telling her best friend she should just be happy she was born in a girl’s body. This, in turn, upsets Hime, who feels like she can no longer confide in her best friend. It also leads to Hime asking a very profound question: “Is it impossible to be seen as who I am without gender getting in the way?”
Is this a young adult targeted manga? Yes. Is this a question that only teens ask? Absolutely not. I, a lady of a certain age, was raised with the idea that after puberty-ish, boys and girls could no longer be friends because boys were always horny and only wanted one thing and that adult men and women couldn’t be trusted together (if straight) without their partners present. Not only could a person not be seen as who they were without gender getting in the way, everyone was split into gendered categories and the one you fell into determined your social bracket.
There are more gender (and non-affiliated) categories these days and it seems like people mingle a little more freely but there’s plenty of suspicion to go around. I, for instance, met a friend in New York last weekend and people seemed pretty shocked that I was going to meet a guy friend without my husband. That this friend is not straight seemed to have little bearing on their surprise. I read I Wanna Be Your Girl, Vol. 2 almost immediately upon returning, and it really drove the point home for me: why does gender matter to who I am or who my friend is? Why does gender matter at all in friendships? Why is it such a huge part of identity? My gender has almost no bearing on any of my interests: not on what I read, on the fact that I love art, that I paint, that I like to cook and bake, that I fence, that I play piano. It doesn’t affect what music I listen to or what car I drive. That I drink coffee more than I drink tea but that I like tea. That I’m pescatarian. That I’m allergic to pineapple, kiwi, mango, passion fruit, eggplant, and scallops. That I once scared away an friend’s abuse boyfriend with my tattoos. That I have chronic pain. That I get migraines. That I think a good fart joke is excellent. That I like animals.
Do you see what I’m getting at here? This is something we should all be interrogating, especially in this age of alpha male and trad wife bullshit. And the younger kids are when the start to question the things people tell them they have to do, the earlier they’ll realize none of their core self is attached to their gender, that they really can be whoever they want, and they’ll be so much healthier than we were 35 years ago when our mothers were telling us, “Sure, you can have it all. Just make sure you still have dinner on the table and have the babies and clean the house while you’re going to work and having drinks with the girls and going to yoga.”
So this manga. Hell, yeah.
I Wanna Be Your Girl, Vol. 1: https://bookshop.org/a/56337/9780593902929
I Wanna Be Your Girl, Vol. 2: https://bookshop.org/a/56337/9780593902950
The Grim Reaper’s Guide to Cheating Death by Maxie Dara (Berkley, 12/2)
As you know if you’ve been here for a while, I am generally a character driven story girlie. I can, however, be coaxed into reading an-all-about-the-plot novel under the right circumstances and, apparently, those circumstances include books that start, to paraphrase one of my favorite content creators, “Story time, bitch.”
Dara’s second S.C.Y.T.H.E. novel begins with administrative assistant, Nora, sorting cases for agents on her birthday, only to find her twin brother Charlie is marked for death that very morning. Unable to conscience the idea, the every-cautious, ever-anxious Nora flees from her steady, stable job to find her erstwhile disaster of a brother and his parrot, Jessica, plucks him out of his entirely unsuitable, n’er-do-well life, and drags him toward what she hopes desperately will be safety.
It is not. But not for the reason she thinks.
The Grim Reaper’s Guide to Chasing Death is a dark, hilarious, absolutely insane meditation on fate, acceptance, the risks that are worth it, and why living forever is absolute bullshit. It takes skill to pair a whacky road-trip story with a deep meditation on mortality and grief but Dara pulls it off, weaving the two together into a tapestry that’s extremely compelling, very silly, and absolutely beautiful. Once it starts, it doesn’t let up and reading it sort of feels like hurtling towards a cliff, but in a good way, so plan on clearing your schedule; it isn’t terribly long, so pick a weekend and turn your phone off, you should be good. Maybe don’t drink too much caffeine. Otherwise, enjoy the ride.
The Grim Reaper’s Guide to Cheating Death: https://bookshop.org/a/56337/9780593815816
Morbidly Curious: A Scientist Explains Why We Can’t Look Away by Coltan Scrivner, PhD (Penguin Books)
First of all, I’d like to thank Dr. Scrivner for giving me an actual, physical object I can throw at my mother the next time she makes that face or tells me how weird I am when she happens to hear me mention a horror movie/book that I have consumed or allowed one of my teenagers to consume or that we have consumed together. Yes, I did let the 13 year old watch Sinners. It was while their other grandmother was in the final stages of pancreatic cancer and you know what? It was on a particularly bad day and afterwards, they were significantly calmer and we were able to have a rational discussion about some of their anxieties; I told my mom I had read several studies about the link between horror and kids regaining agency and conquering anxiety; she continued shocked Pikachu and disapproving anime face. Maybe Scrivner’s PhD will convince her.
I loved Morbidly Curious I’m thrilled there’s a book out that finally brings all of the, “hold up, this is actually okay,” information together. I also like that, beyond analyzing the scant meta-data that does exist, Scrivner has done his own research to 1) confirm what’s already out there 2) make new connections and revelations and 3) debunk a lot of the garbage that still makes the round about morbid curiosity and horror fandom. It’s especially important in this age of heightened anxiety as relates to other people, following an age of anxiety as related to a pandemic (which is now endemic), and staring at what is an incredibly uncertain future that we foster some kind of understanding between the monster fuckers and those other people over there; we don’t have to like each other, but we do need to trust one another enough to leave everyone’s self to their own coping mechanisms. Over here, on our side? We need access to controlled terror, and safe practice for unknown danger scenarios and dystopias but in an age of anxiety, our niche is even more likely than usual to trigger the normies; anyone who deviates even a little is already being targeted and our safety nets are already being banned and censored. We need a bridge. This book may be it.
Because it lays the science behind morbid curiosity out in a clear, precise way, backing up each aspect of Scrivers theory with sound research, I think Morbidly Curious could be a great tool to bridge that knowledge gap between the two groups, in that it can help horror fans and the morbidly curious to explain exactly how our genre and activity choices (I know I love a good oddities museum) provide comfort in times of trouble. Because it debunks outdated information and urban myths (ie. horror fans lack empathy), it can also serve to educate non-horror fans on how to adjust their views and better understand the benefits of morbid curiosity even if they themselves would rather not partake. The book presents the data in entertaining way with great metaphors and really fun stories (though I don’t actually know that I’m more afraid of a lion than I am of a house cat - my cat gets pretty pissed when I accidentally wake him up from a nap by wiggling my big toe) that really engage the reader and translate the abstract to real world example. The emotional and psychological experiences Scrivner cites are near universal and therefore, nearly (alas, the current state of the world leaves me unable to claim impossibility) impossible to deny, strengthening his study results and conclusions.
I’m was also gratified to see the chapter on scary play (as mentioned in the first paragraph) and kids and horror. My now 13 year old looked at me when they were 5-ish and said, “Mama, sometimes, I’m a little creepy,” and I’ve been encouraging them ever since. Most of the adults around me have long been horrified. I’ve explained a thousand times that getting to the end of a horror adventure gives kids a sense of agency, control, and accomplishment but they continue to look horrified. Now, I have a book I can cite to back me up. Maybe they should be a little more morbidly curious for their own good.
Morbidly Curious: https://bookshop.org/a/56337/9780143137344
Current reads: Alma Katsu’s Fiend and Tim Curry’s memoir, Vagabond (listening: they had him read despite the stroke and it is delightful). Talk soon.