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beforeviolets's reviews
406 reviews
Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh
A lush atmospheric story that made me want to curl up in it's moss-covered palms and drift away into this world forever. Featuring a tender achillean romance, folklore, and a sentient forest, there's so much to love in SILVER IN THE WOOD. I would happily wander Greenhallow's wooded path for pages upon pages.
(The editing could use a little more work though. Some sentences were near nonsensical.)
CW: violence, gun violence, kidnapping, dead bodies, death, blood & gore, eye horror
(The editing could use a little more work though. Some sentences were near nonsensical.)
CW: violence, gun violence, kidnapping, dead bodies, death, blood & gore, eye horror
Gwen and Art Are Not in Love by Lex Croucher
Did not finish book. Stopped at 33%.
Did not finish book. Stopped at 33%.
I will upload my review once SMP responds to the demands of the SMP boycott.
Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminsky
“At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this?
And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?”
Wow. I think this may take another read before I can fully process it, but what an incredible and relevant read. A tale of performative advocacy, a tale of genuine advocacy, and a tale that asks us to consider how we choose to wield our silence.
CW: war, gun violence, police brutality, death, child death, torture, sexual content, alcohol, grief, loss of loved one
And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?”
Wow. I think this may take another read before I can fully process it, but what an incredible and relevant read. A tale of performative advocacy, a tale of genuine advocacy, and a tale that asks us to consider how we choose to wield our silence.
CW: war, gun violence, police brutality, death, child death, torture, sexual content, alcohol, grief, loss of loved one
Godkiller by Hannah Kaner
A really solid start to a new high fantasy series that had me crying on page six and screaming with laughter by page 250. The characters are so dynamic and complex and oh my god this is one of the best depictions of the found family trope that I've read in a WHILE.
Godpunk, devastating, and blazing. I can't wait for more.
CW: fire, loss of family, grief, human sacrifice, animal sacrifice, drowning, violence, war, PTSD, dismemberment, child death, death, mind control, sexual content, death by childbirth (mention)
Godpunk, devastating, and blazing. I can't wait for more.
CW: fire, loss of family, grief, human sacrifice, animal sacrifice, drowning, violence, war, PTSD, dismemberment, child death, death, mind control, sexual content, death by childbirth (mention)
All's Well by Mona Awad
This is going to be without a doubt one of the hardest reviews I have ever written, because I have SO many thoughts and so few conclusions.
All’s Well is an absolute tornado of text, and I’ll give it this without a doubt: it is a FASCINATING Macbeth retelling. I was hoping that Awad’s Macbeth would be an absolute literary fever dream and in that, I was not disappointed. If Awad is good at anything, it’s writing with paranoid dream logic, and I think that style works incredibly well with the source text. Macbeth is, in its own way, a fever dream, and I find that its best productions play with audience’s perspective and sense of Any rendition of Macbeth should live in the blurred lines between the physical and intangible, and I think this one did that absolutely beautifully.
(Though I don’t recommend reading this book while in a sickly half-awake stupor brought on by a reaction to a COVID vaccine because I felt like I was losing my mind.)
Thematically, I think this book’s greatest success was the way it talked about desire.
"All of us possess, to one degree or another, a proleptic imagination; in Macbeth, it is absolute. He scarcely is conscious of an ambition, desire, or wish before he sees himself on the other side or shore, already having performed the crime that equivocally fulfills ambition. Macbeth terrifies us partly because that aspect of our own imagination is so frightening..."
-Harold Bloom
In Macbeth, Macbeth’s imagination is what carries forth his reality. It insights an anxiety in us: that our imaginations can conjure a reality decided only by our precocious, slippery thoughts. And Miranda (the Macbeth and Lady Macbeth of this book) takes on this role well. Her depressive state, oozing with vitriol and jealousy and hatred, feels contagious. As her mind slips away from her, as she is filled with judgmental and crass opinions, her narration contaminates our mind. There’s a creeping feeling that even living inside her thoughts through these pages will curse our minds to be the same.
And the thing about these atrocious thoughts is that they’re full of desire. That’s the whole thing that makes Macbeth enticing. It’s not just a play of anxiety, it’s a revenge fantasy. We all resonate with Macbeth’s jealousy, his self-entitledness, his impatience, his intrusive thoughts, his desire. And that’s truly what makes that fear so delicious. The desire in it. And Miranda’s desire–the desire to turn back time, the desire to take others down, the desire to make others hurt the way you have–is a very human desire. And so there is a sort of catharsis in watching her play out her own revenge fantasy, in the violence of her successes.
"What if you want a terrible thing?”
“Sometimes we wish for terrible things, things we deserve. How could we not wish for them when we deserve them? And sometimes the heavens hear us. Something hears us. And our wishes come true. Should we feel guilty? Of course we shouldn’t feel guilty, why guilty? Why guilty when we deserve it, when maybe, just maybe, it’s a question of justice?”
This book also interacts with many other elements of Macbeth and its scholarship in fascinating ways. Awad is clearly well read on the play and its many interpretations. From the sort of thematic sexual constipation to the equivocator reference, there’s a lot that’s packed in here.
Now here’s where I’ll get into my grievances.
Firstly, the beginning of this book DRAGGED. Oh my god did it drag. There’s no poetic way to say this: the first 100-150 pages should’ve been 25-50 pages maximum. It lacked any forward motion and just had SO much inner monologuing. So much. The monologuing continued throughout the book and could’ve been cut down in general but oh my god the first part was JUST monologuing and wow I was exhausted.
But mostly? I think I’m still left just confused by the trajectory of the story.
Let’s talk about the disability arc first. This was probably the biggest element of the story and yet it was so convoluted. So essentially, Miranda begins the book suffering from extreme chronic health problems, and suffering even more from medical gaslighting, feeling alienated by her environment, and having her friends and family treat her as though she is a burden. But when three mysterious men show up, they show her that with a little *magic*, health can be in flux. And so as Macbeth paints his world in blood, Miranda paints hers in pain. One by one, the people who made Miranda feel like a burden, who scoffed at her pain, find themselves afflicted with illness. Her illness. And with each transfer, Miranda grows healthier, stronger, more and more invincible. To the point where we begin to question her own mortality. (Though of course, it’s more complicated than that. Is she somehow on drugs? Is that drink the men give her at the bar laced with something? Is the student who is doing witchcraft actually the one controlling the narrative somehow? Who’s to fucking say?) And by the end, I just didn’t really know what to make of it. In some ways, it was fulfilling that perfect revenge fantasy. All these people who didn’t believe that her disability was real had to reckon with their own serious health problems for the first time ever. But it also at times seems like it’s trying to frame disability as a punishment for a moral failing. Miranda only seems to have her terrible and jealous thoughts when she is in pain. Her pain almost seems to craft her into a bad person. And she is–in a way–viewed as a kinder person when she is healthier, but it’s only when she is healthier that she in reality causes more harm with her actions. And the story definitely is saying that people in pain should be treated with kindness and understanding and respect by medical professionals, peers, and family. This is what I mean when I say it’s a bit convoluted.
Okay here I need to do a little bit of spoiling to explain my thoughts but they’re not like… specific? So vague spoilers:
Whereas Macbeth is a tragic hero, Miranda is… kind of the opposite? Instead of starting off with everything and slowly ending up alone, she begins the story oh so incredibly alone, makes herself simultaneously more and less alone, and then ends… well, I’m unsure. Less alone perhaps? And as I mentioned, she begins the story in extreme amounts of pain, so intense that she can barely move, then slowly, over the course of the story, becomes almost terrifyingly well. And by the end of it, I’m not really sure? She seems to be cured of her extreme chronic illness (perhaps implying that it was indeed psychosomatic, which if that is the case, adds a whole other layer of confusing to this book’s message on disability, because then we have to ask what cured her! Was it the student’s witchcraft ? That seems to make the best case. Again, though that’s just a whole other thing to unpack then it might be adding to that message about being kind to people in pain because the student was the only one who seemed to listen to her and care about her from the beginning? Which could be good but I don’t know? GOD THIS BOOK IS SO MUCH ) but is back to experiencing mortal pain. And she reconciles with many of the people she had been at odds with. I do think that it makes sense for this story to not end with tragedy. But I guess I’m having a hard time reckoning with a Macbeth retelling that doesn’t end in tragedy. That doesn’t center a tragic hero. I just can’t really figure out what taste I’m supposed to have in my mouth upon leaving this world. Maybe blood and salt water and delusion? I mean, again, it’s definitely saying: “something something believe people with invisible disabilities something something.” But it’s also kind of saying “be careful what you wish for” but also not…? Because there’s no real punishment in the end? I don’t know guys.
Anyways. Would I recommend this book? I have no idea. If you’re into Macbeth and weird ass literature and want a book that feels like an acid trip: go for it. Maybe skim the first 100 pages though.
CW: hallucinations, drug use, chronic illness, medical trauma, suicidal thoughts, medical content, injury detail, blood, alcohol consumption, death of mother (past)
All’s Well is an absolute tornado of text, and I’ll give it this without a doubt: it is a FASCINATING Macbeth retelling. I was hoping that Awad’s Macbeth would be an absolute literary fever dream and in that, I was not disappointed. If Awad is good at anything, it’s writing with paranoid dream logic, and I think that style works incredibly well with the source text. Macbeth is, in its own way, a fever dream, and I find that its best productions play with audience’s perspective and sense of Any rendition of Macbeth should live in the blurred lines between the physical and intangible, and I think this one did that absolutely beautifully.
(Though I don’t recommend reading this book while in a sickly half-awake stupor brought on by a reaction to a COVID vaccine because I felt like I was losing my mind.)
Thematically, I think this book’s greatest success was the way it talked about desire.
"All of us possess, to one degree or another, a proleptic imagination; in Macbeth, it is absolute. He scarcely is conscious of an ambition, desire, or wish before he sees himself on the other side or shore, already having performed the crime that equivocally fulfills ambition. Macbeth terrifies us partly because that aspect of our own imagination is so frightening..."
-Harold Bloom
In Macbeth, Macbeth’s imagination is what carries forth his reality. It insights an anxiety in us: that our imaginations can conjure a reality decided only by our precocious, slippery thoughts. And Miranda (the Macbeth and Lady Macbeth of this book) takes on this role well. Her depressive state, oozing with vitriol and jealousy and hatred, feels contagious. As her mind slips away from her, as she is filled with judgmental and crass opinions, her narration contaminates our mind. There’s a creeping feeling that even living inside her thoughts through these pages will curse our minds to be the same.
And the thing about these atrocious thoughts is that they’re full of desire. That’s the whole thing that makes Macbeth enticing. It’s not just a play of anxiety, it’s a revenge fantasy. We all resonate with Macbeth’s jealousy, his self-entitledness, his impatience, his intrusive thoughts, his desire. And that’s truly what makes that fear so delicious. The desire in it. And Miranda’s desire–the desire to turn back time, the desire to take others down, the desire to make others hurt the way you have–is a very human desire. And so there is a sort of catharsis in watching her play out her own revenge fantasy, in the violence of her successes.
"What if you want a terrible thing?”
“Sometimes we wish for terrible things, things we deserve. How could we not wish for them when we deserve them? And sometimes the heavens hear us. Something hears us. And our wishes come true. Should we feel guilty? Of course we shouldn’t feel guilty, why guilty? Why guilty when we deserve it, when maybe, just maybe, it’s a question of justice?”
This book also interacts with many other elements of Macbeth and its scholarship in fascinating ways. Awad is clearly well read on the play and its many interpretations. From the sort of thematic sexual constipation to the equivocator reference, there’s a lot that’s packed in here.
Now here’s where I’ll get into my grievances.
Firstly, the beginning of this book DRAGGED. Oh my god did it drag. There’s no poetic way to say this: the first 100-150 pages should’ve been 25-50 pages maximum. It lacked any forward motion and just had SO much inner monologuing. So much. The monologuing continued throughout the book and could’ve been cut down in general but oh my god the first part was JUST monologuing and wow I was exhausted.
But mostly? I think I’m still left just confused by the trajectory of the story.
Let’s talk about the disability arc first. This was probably the biggest element of the story and yet it was so convoluted. So essentially, Miranda begins the book suffering from extreme chronic health problems, and suffering even more from medical gaslighting, feeling alienated by her environment, and having her friends and family treat her as though she is a burden. But when three mysterious men show up, they show her that with a little *magic*, health can be in flux. And so as Macbeth paints his world in blood, Miranda paints hers in pain. One by one, the people who made Miranda feel like a burden, who scoffed at her pain, find themselves afflicted with illness. Her illness. And with each transfer, Miranda grows healthier, stronger, more and more invincible. To the point where we begin to question her own mortality. (Though of course, it’s more complicated than that. Is she somehow on drugs? Is that drink the men give her at the bar laced with something? Is the student who is doing witchcraft actually the one controlling the narrative somehow? Who’s to fucking say?) And by the end, I just didn’t really know what to make of it. In some ways, it was fulfilling that perfect revenge fantasy. All these people who didn’t believe that her disability was real had to reckon with their own serious health problems for the first time ever. But it also at times seems like it’s trying to frame disability as a punishment for a moral failing. Miranda only seems to have her terrible and jealous thoughts when she is in pain. Her pain almost seems to craft her into a bad person. And she is–in a way–viewed as a kinder person when she is healthier, but it’s only when she is healthier that she in reality causes more harm with her actions. And the story definitely is saying that people in pain should be treated with kindness and understanding and respect by medical professionals, peers, and family. This is what I mean when I say it’s a bit convoluted.
Okay here I need to do a little bit of spoiling to explain my thoughts but they’re not like… specific? So vague spoilers:
Whereas Macbeth is a tragic hero, Miranda is… kind of the opposite? Instead of starting off with everything and slowly ending up alone, she begins the story oh so incredibly alone, makes herself simultaneously more and less alone, and then ends… well, I’m unsure. Less alone perhaps? And as I mentioned, she begins the story in extreme amounts of pain, so intense that she can barely move, then slowly, over the course of the story, becomes almost terrifyingly well. And by the end of it, I’m not really sure? She seems to be cured of her extreme chronic illness (perhaps implying that it was indeed psychosomatic, which if that is the case, adds a whole other layer of confusing to this book’s message on disability, because then we have to ask what cured her! Was it the student’s witchcraft ? That seems to make the best case. Again, though that’s just a whole other thing to unpack then it might be adding to that message about being kind to people in pain because the student was the only one who seemed to listen to her and care about her from the beginning? Which could be good but I don’t know? GOD THIS BOOK IS SO MUCH ) but is back to experiencing mortal pain. And she reconciles with many of the people she had been at odds with. I do think that it makes sense for this story to not end with tragedy. But I guess I’m having a hard time reckoning with a Macbeth retelling that doesn’t end in tragedy. That doesn’t center a tragic hero. I just can’t really figure out what taste I’m supposed to have in my mouth upon leaving this world. Maybe blood and salt water and delusion? I mean, again, it’s definitely saying: “something something believe people with invisible disabilities something something.” But it’s also kind of saying “be careful what you wish for” but also not…? Because there’s no real punishment in the end? I don’t know guys.
Anyways. Would I recommend this book? I have no idea. If you’re into Macbeth and weird ass literature and want a book that feels like an acid trip: go for it. Maybe skim the first 100 pages though.
CW: hallucinations, drug use, chronic illness, medical trauma, suicidal thoughts, medical content, injury detail, blood, alcohol consumption, death of mother (past)
An Education in Malice by S.T. Gibson
"She kissed me with a martyr's agonized desperation, like I was the only sword she ever wanted to fall on. I kissed her right back like the cutting edge of a blade, trying to inflict as much damage as possible."
Thank you SO MUCH to the publisher for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!
IF WE WERE VILLAINS meets A DOWRY OF BLOOD in this scrumptious sapphic dark academia novel by S.T. Gibson.
This is less of a retelling of Carmilla and more a reincarnation, as Gibson takes these beloved characters and pumps fresh blood into them as they live a life anew. And in this incarnation, Laura and Carmilla find themselves in New England as poetry students under the fierce hand of Professor De Lefontaine, a vicious academic force with a dark past. De Lefontaine doles out her praise selectively, setting students at each others' throats as they vy for her attention. But Laura and Carmilla can't tell which they want more of: attention from their elusive professor, or attention from the talented and ferocious girl they've been set at the throat of.
There's a specific type of romance dynamic–often reserved for the tragic achilleans–that always captures my heart. The Hamlet and Horatio kind of vibe. The king and the poet kind of vibe. And it's something I've NEVER been able to find in sapphic romances. They always fall short, lacking that chemistry and tension and absolute world-shifting passion. And I think this book has FINALLY done it. It has finally replicated that absolutely soul-crushing romance dynamic that I live for but with sapphics. Thank you S.T. Gibson for blessing us.
I gorged myself on this book, sucking the ink from its pages with fervor and reckless abandon. I constantly had to remind myself to slow down and luxuriate in its prose. In all honesty, reading this book almost began to stress me out with its richness. I was reading it faster than I could process it, and I have a laundry list of scenes I want to illustrate burning a hole in my notes app. It's absolutely ripe with gorgeous prose, a rich dark academic atmosphere, sexual delicacies, and heart-wrenching romance.
My only issue with the book is that I found a LOT of the stakes were told rather than shown, and that made the climax of the story feel a bit out of nowhere and unearned despite the time spent building up to it. I think the story deserved to be even longer (I think this could've easily been an absolutely tome) and that would've given more space to build that plot up.
But I'm absolutely OBSESSED with this book and its incredible characters, and will not be shutting up about it for quite some time. It contains so many literary rarities, some I knew I was starving for and others I didn't even know I was craving. S.T Gibson is out for blood with this story and she can have mine by the gallon.
CW: blood & gore, murder, sexual content, alcohol consumption, dead body, decapitation, death of mother (past)
Thank you SO MUCH to the publisher for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!
IF WE WERE VILLAINS meets A DOWRY OF BLOOD in this scrumptious sapphic dark academia novel by S.T. Gibson.
This is less of a retelling of Carmilla and more a reincarnation, as Gibson takes these beloved characters and pumps fresh blood into them as they live a life anew. And in this incarnation, Laura and Carmilla find themselves in New England as poetry students under the fierce hand of Professor De Lefontaine, a vicious academic force with a dark past. De Lefontaine doles out her praise selectively, setting students at each others' throats as they vy for her attention. But Laura and Carmilla can't tell which they want more of: attention from their elusive professor, or attention from the talented and ferocious girl they've been set at the throat of.
There's a specific type of romance dynamic–often reserved for the tragic achilleans–that always captures my heart. The Hamlet and Horatio kind of vibe. The king and the poet kind of vibe. And it's something I've NEVER been able to find in sapphic romances. They always fall short, lacking that chemistry and tension and absolute world-shifting passion. And I think this book has FINALLY done it. It has finally replicated that absolutely soul-crushing romance dynamic that I live for but with sapphics. Thank you S.T. Gibson for blessing us.
I gorged myself on this book, sucking the ink from its pages with fervor and reckless abandon. I constantly had to remind myself to slow down and luxuriate in its prose. In all honesty, reading this book almost began to stress me out with its richness. I was reading it faster than I could process it, and I have a laundry list of scenes I want to illustrate burning a hole in my notes app. It's absolutely ripe with gorgeous prose, a rich dark academic atmosphere, sexual delicacies, and heart-wrenching romance.
My only issue with the book is that I found a LOT of the stakes were told rather than shown, and that made the climax of the story feel a bit out of nowhere and unearned despite the time spent building up to it. I think the story deserved to be even longer (I think this could've easily been an absolutely tome) and that would've given more space to build that plot up.
But I'm absolutely OBSESSED with this book and its incredible characters, and will not be shutting up about it for quite some time. It contains so many literary rarities, some I knew I was starving for and others I didn't even know I was craving. S.T Gibson is out for blood with this story and she can have mine by the gallon.
CW: blood & gore, murder, sexual content, alcohol consumption, dead body, decapitation, death of mother (past)
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual content, Blood, and Murder
Moderate: Alcohol
Minor: Death of parent
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
there are many pieces of media that throughout my life have shaped me greatly. but none so much as hamlet.
Macbeth by William Shakespeare
this play comes up time and again in my life, and every time I find a new element to pick apart and indulge in. there are few stories I love as much as this one.
Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu
I'm so glad to live in a world in which there's an 1800 sapphic vampire novel that predates Dracula.
Thoughts on Carmilla itself:
I am having a hard time pulling apart my thoughts on this story due to the edition I read (more on that below) but I can see why this story has such a cult following and why so many works were inspired by it. The intimacy and fragility of the love between these two women is beautiful, and something wonderfully and surprisingly queer for the era it was published in. Much of the story and world is left vague, which makes for a simultaneously disappointing and brilliantly enticing open-endedness. The Black woman in the carriage is left unknown. The large cat that appears to Laura is left unexplained. We never find out where Mademoiselle de Lafontaine goes after she leaves Carmilla. But it's almost more exciting to not know. It makes the story read as a bit of a riddle, a puzzle only partially put-together, with stray and missing pieces left behind for the reader to ponder over. The end is a bit anti-climactic, with the two women missing out on what would have been a riveting confrontational scene, and with the last chunk of the story being told through second-hand accounts. The end just felt more distanced and passive rather than mysterious, which was a bit disappointing. But I really enjoyed the story overall, and I am now really interested in engaging with retellings, reimaginings, scholarship, and debate all inspired by this fascinating tale. There's much to marinate on.
Thoughts on this edition:
I started off loving this edition, but am left feeling VERY torn about it. Carmen Maria Machado is one of my favorite authors and I was really looking forward to experiencing this story for the first time with her edits as a guiding hand. The book opens with an introduction from CMM herself, explaining that this story was actually inspired by preexisting letters written by a woman named Veronika Hausle. Machado continues by citing a scholarly publication about the finding of these letters and criticizing Le Fanu's censorship of said letters in his publication of the story. She asks her readership to engage with the story ahead critically, to consider the way Le Fanu insults his own narrator through the limitations he places on her descriptors and experiences. And I've spent the past few days telling friends about this mysterious backstory to Carmilla, insisting that I couldn't possibly judge Carmilla as a story in its current form, as I'm missing so much of its original content and context. And then I went to go look up that source CMM cites in the introduction to learn more about these letters and their author... and reader, can you guess what I discovered? The source doesn't exist. Neither does Viktoria Hausle. The entire introduction was completely fictional and made up. And I have VERY mixed feelings about that.
As a storyteller and a fan of experimental writing, I find this so artistically thrilling. The idea of crafting a fictional backstory to a pre-existing work and presenting it in the format of an introduction to said work in a new publication is smart and fascinating. And this act of fictional expansion spread beyond the introduction and into the footnotes of the main text, where I found it most successful. These footnotes added entirely fictional anecdotes, Carmen Maria Machado sprinkling in additional world-building through her own silly little writings. And that worked SO well. There was no citation or real grounded-ness to these footnotes, so it was pretty clear that these were purely made-up additions. What a fun way to edit a book, by adding your own imaginative headcanons between the lines of the original text! I really appreciated the creative initiative and gall to craft an entirely new story and pitch it to your audience as fact. It was immersive and ground-breaking and so very Carmen Maria Machado.
But I also found it incredibly frustrating and somewhat morally irresponsible. See, the blurred line of fact and fiction amidst Carmen's additions to this work is cool in concept but inconsistent and unreliable in practice. I have three main issues with this introduction, so let me break it down:
1. "Censorship."
The entire Point of CMM's introduction is to ask the audience to question this story's author via some made-up story of queer historical censorship. To craft an absence, a false negative space, around the text. And though, again, I artistically am obsessed with this choice to paint in the space untouched by a preexisting text, I found this a bit distracting. There are very true stories out in the world about queer censorship. It's a very real thing that happened. There are many authors who took the words of women around them and then painted those women as monsters (look no further than F. Scott Fitzgerald), and this introduction feels like it's looking to garner that misplaced sympathy. I would've found it more interesting and appropriate if CMM wrote an introduction about the history of censorship, or even maybe wrote an entire novel that creates this fictional backstory about Le Fanu in order to ask these questions about censorship on a larger stage (and one that would be more obviously fictional). But placing this story as the introduction to the actual text itself is just distracting and frankly, shadows the beauty of the fact that Carmilla IS a queer story that did survive historical censorship, misogyny, and lesbophobia.
2. A Betrayal of Trust.
Now, one might disagree with me, but I find the editor of a text, especially the editor of a classic text, to be morally responsible in taking on the role of a sort of Virgil to the reader's Dante. Many readers, especially ones without prior experience with Carmilla (such as myself), will be looking to Carmen Maria Machado as a North Star to guide them through this unknown journey. I read classic literature fairly often, especially Shakespeare, and the editorial hand heavily shapes the reading experience. The introduction acts as a sort of guide, giving the reader a little spark of knowledge to help them take their first steps through the text's doorway with confidence. The reader is armed with the knowledge of metaphor or historical reception or scholarly debate or several of the many other gifts that are often granted via a work's introduction, then led along a path carved by footnotes that offer the reader stepping stones and road signs of translations or alternate meanings. So to me, it feels manipulative and academically dishonest to assert a misleading narrative onto your audience, who might be dipping their toes into this water for the first time, that will heavily affect their perspective on this text. I feel a bit like Red Riding Hood, tempted off the path by false promises. It felt almost predatory and malicious to use the introduction, which traditionally exists to serve the reader, as a way to toy with the reader instead. It caused me (and others, who I know had the same experience) to feel manipulated, humiliated, and honestly a little bit used. Now, I did say that I thought the footnotes were mostly successful and I do stand by that. But whereas the footnotes were clearly fictional (again, VERY anecdotal and without citation), the introduction was quite scholarly and contained (fake) sources. Even a reader with strong critical thinking skills would very easily fall for this trap until/unless they actually did the work of looking into these sources provided. Though again, this experiment of Machado's is wildly inconsistent, because there's an article referenced in one of the footnotes later on in the story that IS real. Why would readers expect a combination of true and false sources in a text? I think this inconsistency only heightens the manipulation.
3. A Lack Of.
Like I mentioned earlier in this review, I really love Carmen Maria Machado. And I was really excited to read this story through her eyes. And just as disappointed as I am that I was misled, I'm also disappointed I never actually got the experience I was promised. CMM is clearly incredibly smart, incredibly well-researched, and is frankly an important figure in modern queer literature. I think her scholarly takes on Carmilla would have been profound and interesting on their own, without this warped narrative. The end result of this cool storytelling experiment is just a lack of. A lack of knowledge from CMM, a lack of certainty, a lack of understanding, and most importantly: a lack of a helpful introduction. And with this experience being my first with Carmilla, I'm feeling a bit disoriented, and am having a hard time separating the story itself from all the smoke and mirrors.
Overall, I'd call this edition a really cool artistic experiment but a cruel literary prank. I kind of loved it, and kind of hated it. I do recommend it, but with a heavy emphasis on the fact that Carmen's words are not to be trusted, and with a strong suggestion to read the original text elsewhere first. And of course the illustrations were an absolute joy. So sapphic. So gothic. Every time I read a book with interior illustrations I am reminded how much I wish every book had interior illustrations. It's certainly a pretty edition, even if its roses have hidden thorns.
CW: racism (the text itself), illness, death, blood, hallucinations, death of child, decapitation, car accident, death of mother (past), suicide (mention)
Thoughts on Carmilla itself:
I am having a hard time pulling apart my thoughts on this story due to the edition I read (more on that below) but I can see why this story has such a cult following and why so many works were inspired by it. The intimacy and fragility of the love between these two women is beautiful, and something wonderfully and surprisingly queer for the era it was published in. Much of the story and world is left vague, which makes for a simultaneously disappointing and brilliantly enticing open-endedness. The Black woman in the carriage is left unknown. The large cat that appears to Laura is left unexplained. We never find out where Mademoiselle de Lafontaine goes after she leaves Carmilla. But it's almost more exciting to not know. It makes the story read as a bit of a riddle, a puzzle only partially put-together, with stray and missing pieces left behind for the reader to ponder over. The end is a bit anti-climactic, with the two women missing out on what would have been a riveting confrontational scene, and with the last chunk of the story being told through second-hand accounts. The end just felt more distanced and passive rather than mysterious, which was a bit disappointing. But I really enjoyed the story overall, and I am now really interested in engaging with retellings, reimaginings, scholarship, and debate all inspired by this fascinating tale. There's much to marinate on.
Thoughts on this edition:
I started off loving this edition, but am left feeling VERY torn about it. Carmen Maria Machado is one of my favorite authors and I was really looking forward to experiencing this story for the first time with her edits as a guiding hand. The book opens with an introduction from CMM herself, explaining that this story was actually inspired by preexisting letters written by a woman named Veronika Hausle. Machado continues by citing a scholarly publication about the finding of these letters and criticizing Le Fanu's censorship of said letters in his publication of the story. She asks her readership to engage with the story ahead critically, to consider the way Le Fanu insults his own narrator through the limitations he places on her descriptors and experiences. And I've spent the past few days telling friends about this mysterious backstory to Carmilla, insisting that I couldn't possibly judge Carmilla as a story in its current form, as I'm missing so much of its original content and context. And then I went to go look up that source CMM cites in the introduction to learn more about these letters and their author... and reader, can you guess what I discovered? The source doesn't exist. Neither does Viktoria Hausle. The entire introduction was completely fictional and made up. And I have VERY mixed feelings about that.
As a storyteller and a fan of experimental writing, I find this so artistically thrilling. The idea of crafting a fictional backstory to a pre-existing work and presenting it in the format of an introduction to said work in a new publication is smart and fascinating. And this act of fictional expansion spread beyond the introduction and into the footnotes of the main text, where I found it most successful. These footnotes added entirely fictional anecdotes, Carmen Maria Machado sprinkling in additional world-building through her own silly little writings. And that worked SO well. There was no citation or real grounded-ness to these footnotes, so it was pretty clear that these were purely made-up additions. What a fun way to edit a book, by adding your own imaginative headcanons between the lines of the original text! I really appreciated the creative initiative and gall to craft an entirely new story and pitch it to your audience as fact. It was immersive and ground-breaking and so very Carmen Maria Machado.
But I also found it incredibly frustrating and somewhat morally irresponsible. See, the blurred line of fact and fiction amidst Carmen's additions to this work is cool in concept but inconsistent and unreliable in practice. I have three main issues with this introduction, so let me break it down:
1. "Censorship."
The entire Point of CMM's introduction is to ask the audience to question this story's author via some made-up story of queer historical censorship. To craft an absence, a false negative space, around the text. And though, again, I artistically am obsessed with this choice to paint in the space untouched by a preexisting text, I found this a bit distracting. There are very true stories out in the world about queer censorship. It's a very real thing that happened. There are many authors who took the words of women around them and then painted those women as monsters (look no further than F. Scott Fitzgerald), and this introduction feels like it's looking to garner that misplaced sympathy. I would've found it more interesting and appropriate if CMM wrote an introduction about the history of censorship, or even maybe wrote an entire novel that creates this fictional backstory about Le Fanu in order to ask these questions about censorship on a larger stage (and one that would be more obviously fictional). But placing this story as the introduction to the actual text itself is just distracting and frankly, shadows the beauty of the fact that Carmilla IS a queer story that did survive historical censorship, misogyny, and lesbophobia.
2. A Betrayal of Trust.
Now, one might disagree with me, but I find the editor of a text, especially the editor of a classic text, to be morally responsible in taking on the role of a sort of Virgil to the reader's Dante. Many readers, especially ones without prior experience with Carmilla (such as myself), will be looking to Carmen Maria Machado as a North Star to guide them through this unknown journey. I read classic literature fairly often, especially Shakespeare, and the editorial hand heavily shapes the reading experience. The introduction acts as a sort of guide, giving the reader a little spark of knowledge to help them take their first steps through the text's doorway with confidence. The reader is armed with the knowledge of metaphor or historical reception or scholarly debate or several of the many other gifts that are often granted via a work's introduction, then led along a path carved by footnotes that offer the reader stepping stones and road signs of translations or alternate meanings. So to me, it feels manipulative and academically dishonest to assert a misleading narrative onto your audience, who might be dipping their toes into this water for the first time, that will heavily affect their perspective on this text. I feel a bit like Red Riding Hood, tempted off the path by false promises. It felt almost predatory and malicious to use the introduction, which traditionally exists to serve the reader, as a way to toy with the reader instead. It caused me (and others, who I know had the same experience) to feel manipulated, humiliated, and honestly a little bit used. Now, I did say that I thought the footnotes were mostly successful and I do stand by that. But whereas the footnotes were clearly fictional (again, VERY anecdotal and without citation), the introduction was quite scholarly and contained (fake) sources. Even a reader with strong critical thinking skills would very easily fall for this trap until/unless they actually did the work of looking into these sources provided. Though again, this experiment of Machado's is wildly inconsistent, because there's an article referenced in one of the footnotes later on in the story that IS real. Why would readers expect a combination of true and false sources in a text? I think this inconsistency only heightens the manipulation.
3. A Lack Of.
Like I mentioned earlier in this review, I really love Carmen Maria Machado. And I was really excited to read this story through her eyes. And just as disappointed as I am that I was misled, I'm also disappointed I never actually got the experience I was promised. CMM is clearly incredibly smart, incredibly well-researched, and is frankly an important figure in modern queer literature. I think her scholarly takes on Carmilla would have been profound and interesting on their own, without this warped narrative. The end result of this cool storytelling experiment is just a lack of. A lack of knowledge from CMM, a lack of certainty, a lack of understanding, and most importantly: a lack of a helpful introduction. And with this experience being my first with Carmilla, I'm feeling a bit disoriented, and am having a hard time separating the story itself from all the smoke and mirrors.
Overall, I'd call this edition a really cool artistic experiment but a cruel literary prank. I kind of loved it, and kind of hated it. I do recommend it, but with a heavy emphasis on the fact that Carmen's words are not to be trusted, and with a strong suggestion to read the original text elsewhere first. And of course the illustrations were an absolute joy. So sapphic. So gothic. Every time I read a book with interior illustrations I am reminded how much I wish every book had interior illustrations. It's certainly a pretty edition, even if its roses have hidden thorns.
CW: racism (the text itself), illness, death, blood, hallucinations, death of child, decapitation, car accident, death of mother (past), suicide (mention)
Never Whistle at Night: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology by Shane Hawk, Theodore C. Van Alst Jr.
Overall, a really wonderful anthology featuring all sort of horror and dark fiction. From gothic haunted houses to body horror to resurrection, this collection has it all. In the foreward, Stephen Graham Jones paints this image of Native writers sitting around at the end of the evening, telling each other scary stories, and I think that's exactly what this evokes. It felt like being serenaded with ghost stories and urban legends around an ancient campfire
Story rundown:
Kushtuka by Mathilda Zeller
I read this first thing in the morning in full daylight and it still had me shivering and cowering into myself. I don't know what was scarier, the "monster" or the creepy white man who thinks the world is his toy box. I also already found myself referencing this story within a day or two after reading it, which is when you know a story has left a good impact.
CW: violence, body horror, blood & gore, colonization, dismemberment (mention), gun violence, murder, emesis
White Hills by Rebecca Roanhorse
A new kind of horror: assimilation. I think this one was straight and to the point, but still creepy.
CW: racism, eugenics, blood, forced abortion, emesis, dismemberment (implied)
Navajos Don't Wear Elk Teeth by Conley Lyons
Honestly white gay men are fucking terrifying to me so this story was already filling me with dread from the first page.
CW: sexual content, rape, tooth horror (not graphic)
Wingless by Marcie R. Rendon
This one was honestly a bit forgettable to me. There was nothing about it that left me with a lingering fear, nothing that extended its claws beyond its pages. But I liked the writing.
CW: insects, abusive parent (physical), child abuse, emesis, animal death, dismemberment
Quantum by Nick Medina
At this point in the anthology, this one was my favorite read so far. The horror of this was one that was developed out of chosen and deliberate choices built out of delusion and it created such a wonderful tension in its reading experience.
CW: dead body, child neglect, needles, alcohol consumption (mention)
Hunger by Phoenix Boudreau
Absolutely a standout in the collection. Such bold storytelling choices and such a unique voice. I loved Boudreau's way of creating an oddly happy horror by placing us in the mind of the monster, and asking what their horrors would look like.
CW: violent thoughts
Tick Talk by Cherie Dimaline
For some reason, I irrationally do not get along with Cherie Dimaline's writing style. The rhythm of it grates my brain and it genuinely gives me a headache every time I try to read one of her works. But the story itself was really really cool and there's much to analyze if you're a fan of her writing.
CW: blood & gore, insects, body/medical horror, death of parents
The Ones Who Killed Us by Brandon Hobson
I actually skipped this one. It tried to be experimental in its writing style but felt like it lacked deliberate choices. Rather than using the experimental writing to guide its readers through an unexpected terrain, its sentences were just meandering. They weren't run-ons but rather runaways, and it felt like the words were swimming on the page in front of me. I was just completely unable to track the train of thought or process what was being said and so I skipped it.
CW: did not read
Snakes Are Born in the Dark by D. H. Trujillo
Oh my god. That was the most horrifying and fucked up thing I've ever read. It was just so gross and I had started the story with a hot chocolate in hand that was left unfinished. But it was really good and really intriguing and well written. Though I did notice a few important threads left open in an unsatisfying way at the end.
CW: racism, anti-indigenous slur, injury detail, body horror, illness, pregnancy, birth (on-page), animal death, blood & gore, emesis
Before I Go by Norris Black
I honestly keep forgetting about this one? It was good and haunting but was a little too direct. It's just not sticking with me.
CW: loss of spouse, death of mother, grief, body horror, death, animal death, blood & gore, dead body, cancer, alcohol consumption
Night in the Chrysalis by Tiffany Morris
My favorite in the whole anthology, hands down. I immediately fell in love with Morris's poetic prose and wonderful delicate writing style. Her poetry background was very apparent in how it helped create such specificity and tact in her craft. It reminded me of lacework somehow. In regards to the story: gothic haunted houses with the house as a character/metaphor is my literary bread and butter and this living chrysalis was such a brilliant use of that house trope. I wanted it to go on forever. I ate this one UP and I'll be returning to feast on its words time and again.
CW: insects, blood, emesis, miscarriage (mention)
Behind Colin's Eyes by Shane Hawk
A very traditional horror story (complimentary). It was horrifying and haunting, yet felt familiar and expected. I feel like if I imagined a horror story on a hunting trip it would be exactly this. But truly well-written nonetheless.
CW: animal death, blood & gore, body horror, tooth horror, insects, emesis, war (mention), colonization (mention)
Heart-Shaped Clock by Kelli Jo Ford
I'm having a hard time placing my thoughts on this one. I think I liked what it was doing but the taste it left in my mouth was a little too helpless for me.
CW: murder, drugs, alcohol consumption, animal abandonment, imprisonment, suicidal thoughts, animal death, domestic abuse (mention), death of grandparent (past)
Scariest. Story. Ever. by Richard Van Camp
This one keeps growing on me the more I think back on it. In the foreword, Stephen Graham Jones explains the impact of ambiguity in horror, especially indigenous horror, and I think Van Camp perfectly illustrated ambiguity and negative space as a tool of horror. I do wish its final note was a little more sour or off-putting rather than just being hopeful, but this really was a cool story.
CW: violence, imprisonment (mention), drugs (mention)
Human Eaters by Royce K. Young Wolf
Though it faded into the background for me, I thought this short story was a lovely ode to oral storytelling, the importance of generational memory, and the tradition of folklore as a way to pass on lessons and cautionary tales.
CW: colonization (mention), dismemberment (mention)
The Longest Street in the World by Theodore C. Van Alst Jr.
Really good. Really fucking weird. Certainly left an impression on me. I liked the writing style quite a bit, it was unique.
CW: decapitation, violence, gun violence, emesis
Dead Owls by Mona Susan Power
Really emotionally evocative, haunting, and precious. I did really enjoy this one. It felt like it stood out tonally from a lot of the other stories.
CW: war (past), blood, violence, suicide (past), rape (mention), anti-indigenous racism
The Prepper by Morgan Talty
Not so much for me. I thought it had really nice writing and nice storytelling but I just don't find interest in doomsday prepper horror or zombie horror unless it's really spinning it on its head and this didn't. I also feel like I wasn't quite sure what it was saying about many of its topics (mental illness leading to violence, assisted suicide, etc.) and thought it needed further clarity on its point.
CW: assisted suicide, suicidal thoughts, imprisonment, self harm, illness, mental illness, death of grandparent, ableism, bullying, murder, animal death, violence, gun violence, rape (mention), death
Uncle Robert Rides the Lightning by Kate Hart
More mythological than horror, and honestly not sure I feel like it fits in well with the rest of the anthology. Surrounded by so many monsters and horrors, I kept waiting for something scary or unnerving to happen, but it really just felt like a little mythological tale. (I know this sounds weird with the content warnings below being what they are but I promise this makes sense.) I liked it though.
CW: electrocution, drowning, suicide (offscreen), alcohol consumption, death
Sundays by David Heska Wanbli Weiden
I think this was one of the most jarring stories. I had my jaw dropped and my fists clenched for much of its reading. Powerful and clear. A lot but really good.
CW: child rape (graphic), trauma, grooming, alcohol consumption, car accident (mention), suicide (mention), racism, parental death (past), loss of spouse (past), cancer
Eulogy for a Brother, Resurrected by Carson Faust
One of my favorites! I keep returning to this one in my mind. Its storytelling is very much my jam (I mean, anything sort of golem-core or death-core in this particular vibe is my jam.) I especially loved the poetic ambiguity of the ending and the shift in writing style in which to portray that ambiguity. It was emotionally and artistically charged in the right places and I just really enjoyed it.
CW: loss of sibling, grief, blood, death, homophobia, murder, gun violence, death
Night Moves by Andrea L. Rodgers
Wonderfully classic. It won't stick with me but mostly because it just felt like many old black-and-white horror movies.
CW: blood and gore, war, alcohol consumption, death of sibling (past), death, colonization, emesis, violence
Capgras by Tommy Orange
Another favorite of mine in the collection. There was something in its storytelling structure and style that reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe despite its decidedly un-gothic atmosphere. I definitely need to revisit and analyze this one because I felt like it was Doing and Saying a lot that I missed just due to my headspace when reading it. My critical thinking brain cells were not functioning properly, but I could tell this one was incredibly smart and cool and I'm certain I'm missing a lot of what makes it so smart and cool.
CW: alcohol consumption, hallucinations, blood, dead body
The Scientist's Horror Story by Darcie Little Badger
I've been so excited to read more of Darcie Little Badger's work since I encountered her writing in The Grimoire of Grave Fates earlier this year, and this story did not disappoint. Featuring a call to action and poignant reflection upon the horrors of the real world, this full-circle story was haunting and satisfying.
CW: death
Collections by Amber Blaeser-Wardzala
Whereas some of these other stories created horror via an omission of knowledge, or with a journey into the unknown, this story freaked me out precisely because as soon as you pick it up, you know exactly where its headed. It felt like being on a high-speed train to hell, as you spend the story pleading for it to hit the brakes or veer off-course. Praying for some twist to arrive to save you from the dreaded destination, while knowing there's no way to avoid the inevitable.
CW: decapitation, dead bodies, murder (implied)
Limbs by Waubgeshig Rice
What a great note to end this story on. Though I had to skim some parts due to its gore, this story was grotesquely powerful. In featuring a depiction of the land rising up to protect itself and those who care for it properly, this story properly sums up the exact reason why so many marginalized communities find comfort in horror. Because often times, as our horror is our every day lives, there's a comfort in aligning ourselves with the "monster". In using horror to face "othering" head on.
CW: torture, dismemberment, blood & gore, cannibalism, violence, colonization, alcohol consumption
Story rundown:
Kushtuka by Mathilda Zeller
I read this first thing in the morning in full daylight and it still had me shivering and cowering into myself. I don't know what was scarier, the "monster" or the creepy white man who thinks the world is his toy box. I also already found myself referencing this story within a day or two after reading it, which is when you know a story has left a good impact.
CW: violence, body horror, blood & gore, colonization, dismemberment (mention), gun violence, murder, emesis
White Hills by Rebecca Roanhorse
A new kind of horror: assimilation. I think this one was straight and to the point, but still creepy.
CW: racism, eugenics, blood, forced abortion, emesis, dismemberment (implied)
Navajos Don't Wear Elk Teeth by Conley Lyons
Honestly white gay men are fucking terrifying to me so this story was already filling me with dread from the first page.
CW: sexual content, rape, tooth horror (not graphic)
Wingless by Marcie R. Rendon
This one was honestly a bit forgettable to me. There was nothing about it that left me with a lingering fear, nothing that extended its claws beyond its pages. But I liked the writing.
CW: insects, abusive parent (physical), child abuse, emesis, animal death, dismemberment
Quantum by Nick Medina
At this point in the anthology, this one was my favorite read so far. The horror of this was one that was developed out of chosen and deliberate choices built out of delusion and it created such a wonderful tension in its reading experience.
CW: dead body, child neglect, needles, alcohol consumption (mention)
Hunger by Phoenix Boudreau
Absolutely a standout in the collection. Such bold storytelling choices and such a unique voice. I loved Boudreau's way of creating an oddly happy horror by placing us in the mind of the monster, and asking what their horrors would look like.
CW: violent thoughts
Tick Talk by Cherie Dimaline
For some reason, I irrationally do not get along with Cherie Dimaline's writing style. The rhythm of it grates my brain and it genuinely gives me a headache every time I try to read one of her works. But the story itself was really really cool and there's much to analyze if you're a fan of her writing.
CW: blood & gore, insects, body/medical horror, death of parents
The Ones Who Killed Us by Brandon Hobson
I actually skipped this one. It tried to be experimental in its writing style but felt like it lacked deliberate choices. Rather than using the experimental writing to guide its readers through an unexpected terrain, its sentences were just meandering. They weren't run-ons but rather runaways, and it felt like the words were swimming on the page in front of me. I was just completely unable to track the train of thought or process what was being said and so I skipped it.
CW: did not read
Snakes Are Born in the Dark by D. H. Trujillo
Oh my god. That was the most horrifying and fucked up thing I've ever read. It was just so gross and I had started the story with a hot chocolate in hand that was left unfinished. But it was really good and really intriguing and well written. Though I did notice a few important threads left open in an unsatisfying way at the end.
CW: racism, anti-indigenous slur, injury detail, body horror, illness, pregnancy, birth (on-page), animal death, blood & gore, emesis
Before I Go by Norris Black
I honestly keep forgetting about this one? It was good and haunting but was a little too direct. It's just not sticking with me.
CW: loss of spouse, death of mother, grief, body horror, death, animal death, blood & gore, dead body, cancer, alcohol consumption
Night in the Chrysalis by Tiffany Morris
My favorite in the whole anthology, hands down. I immediately fell in love with Morris's poetic prose and wonderful delicate writing style. Her poetry background was very apparent in how it helped create such specificity and tact in her craft. It reminded me of lacework somehow. In regards to the story: gothic haunted houses with the house as a character/metaphor is my literary bread and butter and this living chrysalis was such a brilliant use of that house trope. I wanted it to go on forever. I ate this one UP and I'll be returning to feast on its words time and again.
CW: insects, blood, emesis, miscarriage (mention)
Behind Colin's Eyes by Shane Hawk
A very traditional horror story (complimentary). It was horrifying and haunting, yet felt familiar and expected. I feel like if I imagined a horror story on a hunting trip it would be exactly this. But truly well-written nonetheless.
CW: animal death, blood & gore, body horror, tooth horror, insects, emesis, war (mention), colonization (mention)
Heart-Shaped Clock by Kelli Jo Ford
I'm having a hard time placing my thoughts on this one. I think I liked what it was doing but the taste it left in my mouth was a little too helpless for me.
CW: murder, drugs, alcohol consumption, animal abandonment, imprisonment, suicidal thoughts, animal death, domestic abuse (mention), death of grandparent (past)
Scariest. Story. Ever. by Richard Van Camp
This one keeps growing on me the more I think back on it. In the foreword, Stephen Graham Jones explains the impact of ambiguity in horror, especially indigenous horror, and I think Van Camp perfectly illustrated ambiguity and negative space as a tool of horror. I do wish its final note was a little more sour or off-putting rather than just being hopeful, but this really was a cool story.
CW: violence, imprisonment (mention), drugs (mention)
Human Eaters by Royce K. Young Wolf
Though it faded into the background for me, I thought this short story was a lovely ode to oral storytelling, the importance of generational memory, and the tradition of folklore as a way to pass on lessons and cautionary tales.
CW: colonization (mention), dismemberment (mention)
The Longest Street in the World by Theodore C. Van Alst Jr.
Really good. Really fucking weird. Certainly left an impression on me. I liked the writing style quite a bit, it was unique.
CW: decapitation, violence, gun violence, emesis
Dead Owls by Mona Susan Power
Really emotionally evocative, haunting, and precious. I did really enjoy this one. It felt like it stood out tonally from a lot of the other stories.
CW: war (past), blood, violence, suicide (past), rape (mention), anti-indigenous racism
The Prepper by Morgan Talty
Not so much for me. I thought it had really nice writing and nice storytelling but I just don't find interest in doomsday prepper horror or zombie horror unless it's really spinning it on its head and this didn't. I also feel like I wasn't quite sure what it was saying about many of its topics (mental illness leading to violence, assisted suicide, etc.) and thought it needed further clarity on its point.
CW: assisted suicide, suicidal thoughts, imprisonment, self harm, illness, mental illness, death of grandparent, ableism, bullying, murder, animal death, violence, gun violence, rape (mention), death
Uncle Robert Rides the Lightning by Kate Hart
More mythological than horror, and honestly not sure I feel like it fits in well with the rest of the anthology. Surrounded by so many monsters and horrors, I kept waiting for something scary or unnerving to happen, but it really just felt like a little mythological tale. (I know this sounds weird with the content warnings below being what they are but I promise this makes sense.) I liked it though.
CW: electrocution, drowning, suicide (offscreen), alcohol consumption, death
Sundays by David Heska Wanbli Weiden
I think this was one of the most jarring stories. I had my jaw dropped and my fists clenched for much of its reading. Powerful and clear. A lot but really good.
CW: child rape (graphic), trauma, grooming, alcohol consumption, car accident (mention), suicide (mention), racism, parental death (past), loss of spouse (past), cancer
Eulogy for a Brother, Resurrected by Carson Faust
One of my favorites! I keep returning to this one in my mind. Its storytelling is very much my jam (I mean, anything sort of golem-core or death-core in this particular vibe is my jam.) I especially loved the poetic ambiguity of the ending and the shift in writing style in which to portray that ambiguity. It was emotionally and artistically charged in the right places and I just really enjoyed it.
CW: loss of sibling, grief, blood, death, homophobia, murder, gun violence, death
Night Moves by Andrea L. Rodgers
Wonderfully classic. It won't stick with me but mostly because it just felt like many old black-and-white horror movies.
CW: blood and gore, war, alcohol consumption, death of sibling (past), death, colonization, emesis, violence
Capgras by Tommy Orange
Another favorite of mine in the collection. There was something in its storytelling structure and style that reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe despite its decidedly un-gothic atmosphere. I definitely need to revisit and analyze this one because I felt like it was Doing and Saying a lot that I missed just due to my headspace when reading it. My critical thinking brain cells were not functioning properly, but I could tell this one was incredibly smart and cool and I'm certain I'm missing a lot of what makes it so smart and cool.
CW: alcohol consumption, hallucinations, blood, dead body
The Scientist's Horror Story by Darcie Little Badger
I've been so excited to read more of Darcie Little Badger's work since I encountered her writing in The Grimoire of Grave Fates earlier this year, and this story did not disappoint. Featuring a call to action and poignant reflection upon the horrors of the real world, this full-circle story was haunting and satisfying.
CW: death
Collections by Amber Blaeser-Wardzala
Whereas some of these other stories created horror via an omission of knowledge, or with a journey into the unknown, this story freaked me out precisely because as soon as you pick it up, you know exactly where its headed. It felt like being on a high-speed train to hell, as you spend the story pleading for it to hit the brakes or veer off-course. Praying for some twist to arrive to save you from the dreaded destination, while knowing there's no way to avoid the inevitable.
CW: decapitation, dead bodies, murder (implied)
Limbs by Waubgeshig Rice
What a great note to end this story on. Though I had to skim some parts due to its gore, this story was grotesquely powerful. In featuring a depiction of the land rising up to protect itself and those who care for it properly, this story properly sums up the exact reason why so many marginalized communities find comfort in horror. Because often times, as our horror is our every day lives, there's a comfort in aligning ourselves with the "monster". In using horror to face "othering" head on.
CW: torture, dismemberment, blood & gore, cannibalism, violence, colonization, alcohol consumption