A review by gnashchick
Coyote Songs by Gabino Iglesias
5.0
I highlighted this: She was a saint in the making, the Mother of Chaos, the blood of generations that has been spilled on every forgotten chunk of land across a world where suffering es el pan nuestro de cada dia.
Every character in this story suffers. Five people hold common threads of grief, horror, anger, and destruction. Some want revenge, some seek destruction, some want justice for the weak, others harness the rage and grief and supernatural power that permeates the deserts of the Southwest. This book is brutal and visceral, punctuated with beautiful, lyrical prose and prayer. I was compelled to murmur prayers in the dark, sounding out a language I can read but can't speak well enough to say I know it.
Some books are praised with the, "I couldn't put it down" cliche, but readers, I had to put it down. I needed the time to process the images the author showed me, or to echo the grief of something that hit way too close to home. I've been reading horror for most of my life. Gory images don't bother me. This is what got to me: The siren songs of angels. A mother's grief pouring onto the searing desert sand. Violent saviors convinced they're doing God's work. I needed time to stop and think about these things, take a dip in those emotions, and look at the world with someone else's eyes.
Powerful stuff, this.
Every character in this story suffers. Five people hold common threads of grief, horror, anger, and destruction. Some want revenge, some seek destruction, some want justice for the weak, others harness the rage and grief and supernatural power that permeates the deserts of the Southwest. This book is brutal and visceral, punctuated with beautiful, lyrical prose and prayer. I was compelled to murmur prayers in the dark, sounding out a language I can read but can't speak well enough to say I know it.
Some books are praised with the, "I couldn't put it down" cliche, but readers, I had to put it down. I needed the time to process the images the author showed me, or to echo the grief of something that hit way too close to home. I've been reading horror for most of my life. Gory images don't bother me. This is what got to me: The siren songs of angels. A mother's grief pouring onto the searing desert sand. Violent saviors convinced they're doing God's work. I needed time to stop and think about these things, take a dip in those emotions, and look at the world with someone else's eyes.
Powerful stuff, this.