Review: The Remaking

"You men always try to tell our story. You men always get it wrong."

4 stars. This was so great - a really spooky, clever October read. Don't go in expecting to be totally terrified or blown away, go in expecting a creepy meditation on stories, obsession, fear, justice, punishment, and revenge. It's also an exploration of how places retain memories, and how sometimes those memories seep into the bones of those who live there (<- this is a particular theme I really, really love and The Remaking dove into it super suitably for my tastes). 

Just as the title implies, the book itself is a meta spiral inside a Russian nesting doll inside a snake eating its own tail. There are essentially three stories here - an urban legend based on a true witch burning (1), an attempt to make a movie based on that legend (2), and an attempt to remake that movie twenty years later (3). It ends with a final coda as a "journalist" enters the scene and tries to tell the story on a podcast. There are several characters who reappear in each layer, representing a beautifully-rendered pattern in the fabric of the original legend. 

There's history here - commentary on the prevalence of suspicion and mania driving people to murder. There's a potent setting here - an accurate snapshot of a small, crumbling, stagnant town in Virginia trapped in its own messy, stale ignorance. There's horror - horror for true fans of horror, I'd say. Horror history buffs. Those who'd appreciate references to the VHS glory days and the evolution of slasher flicks. The author clearly is or has been an "insider" in the industry and peppers his text with wink-y, almost humorous shots at Hollywood.

There is also a lesson. It's not particularly subtle, or complex, because this is, after all, a campfire ghost story. I actually love that The Remaking embraced a loud warning shot because it made it feel so much more strongly like an oral history or a fairy tale or a parable. It's self-aware and smart in that sense and legitimizes all the meta tanglings. 

"Don't you see? Don't you get it? The only monsters around here are you. Not some mother and daughter who got burned at the stake. You."  

As I said, an absolutely great October read and excellent for fans of horror. 

The Remaking on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Home Before Dark

3 stars. Hahahahahaha.

Hmmmmmmmm.

Well, then. This is my first Riley Sager, and I have to say - it's kind of what I expected. A twisty, compelling page-turner that is somehow also clumsy, implausible and cheap. I'm such a picky, critical reader, and that for sure prevented me from just sitting back and enjoying the ride. But the fact is that the flaws here far outweigh the merits. 

The plot follows Maggie Holt, a young woman who inherits her childhood home when her father passes away. Her father had written a book about the place, a bestselling novel documenting her family's experiences in the so-called "house of horrors," and Maggie is determined to find out 1) why her father wrote such an unbelievable thing exploiting her childhood, and 2) what really happened to inspire him.

A couple of elements that were really distracting:

1. The borrowed premise. Being derivative is FINE - really - but this is straight up copied from Netflix's adaptation of Hill House. I don't mind when authors reference other works, but I do mind when they aren't self-aware about it. The tropes utilized here are just those - tropes - and I found myself wishing for a wink, a smirk, an elbow nudge to let us know that we're all here to lean in and suspend belief together, which brings me to...

2. The implausibility! Oh man. Horror is my favorite genre to read, so I'm no stranger to accepting unrealities for the sake of a reading experience. But this was just too much. Too much inexplicable decision-making (by sane, capable adults?!), too much memory loss, too many tangled secrets, too many convenient twists. Maggie acts like the book ruined her life...? Like every interaction is tainted by it? Would people really CARE that much?! Everything clicks together in the end, which is nice, but it feels kind of like an uhhhhhhh what? moment. Which brings me to...

3. Sloppy writing. Try-hard cliffhangers. Awkward dialogue. Characters who sound exactly like each other. Forced chemistry between other certain characters. Drawn out moments that should've been concise. Rushed moments that should've been drawn out. Unnecessary conflict. REALLY strange character motivations. Easily identifiable red herrings. 

I actually feel bad now. It's not THAT bad. It's just a little cringey.

Here's the thing: there's a fantastic idea here. And that idea brings us some great, spooky moments and a perfectly horrifying haunted house atmosphere. The mystery at the heart of the story is truly an interesting one and kept my attention, even though I started piecing things together about halfway through. I didn't hate the protagonist or the format or the way things unfolded. It's also, nicely, a fairly quick read. 

I'll pick up another Riley Sager soon. This was good enough for now.

Home Before Dark on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Shadows

3 stars. Don't worry - I liked it. I couldn't put it down. I admired it! The spooky stuff is genuinely scary and the emotional aspect of the story packs a punch. When I closed the book, though, all I could think was, ".....cute." I think reading horror has changed a bit for me in this astonishing year of our lord 2020. I'm jaded, I'm less shocked by evil, I walk around in a weird anxious state that barely gets penetrated by things like bloody handprints and creepy dolls. All that being said, this is a perfect October read. I recommend.

The core of the story is a bit cliche: Paul Adams, away from home for twenty-five years after his indirect involvement in a gruesome murder, returns home to care for his dying mother. Memories shift and emerge as he re-acquaints himself with his hometown, and he starts to suspect that something is truly amiss. Meanwhile, a detective from a neighboring town shows up to investigate what appears to be a copycat killing - a murder that mirrors the one that has haunted Paul for all these years. 

I really enjoy Alex North's pacing and his bright, concise way of writing (characters CAN be emotionally fleshed out without millions of words, thanks). It's familiar to The Whisper Man in that sense, which makes me excited - I love a dependable author with consistent style! I also liked that he leaned into something really sad here - not just scary, but sad. It was a nice touch and a layer of depth that made this more sophisticated. 

There are elements of Sarah Pinborough's Behind Her Eyes here, as well as Stephen Chbosky's Imaginary Friend. I would say it's a little Kingy but not nearly as wordy and a little more cut-and-dry. Could be a really fun beach read, if beaches are ever a thing in the future. The twists and turns are pure and unpredictable and the ending is super, super satisfying. All in all, I liked this, as my rating indicates, but I wasn't totally blown away. On to the next. 

The Shadows on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Mexican Gothic

5 aromatic, fruitful, gloomy stars. I'm slowly recovering from the biggest reading slump I've ever experienced, and I'm happy to report that Mexican Gothic served as a healthy reminder that books are magic, to me. Everyone's saying it - and now I can happily confirm that this is Bronte meets Vandermeer. I loved it. This is one of those books you hate to put down, because it sucks you in story-wise AND character-wise. Every person in this story is distinct and interesting. 

The story: an intelligent, headstrong young woman named Noemi is sent out of town to investigate when she receives a rambling, mysterious letter from her newly-married cousin. She heads to High Place, a crumbling old mansion occupied by a cold, cranky family. The longer she stays at High Place, the more concerned she gets for her ill cousin, and the more ill she feels herself. So many secrets!

Among the positives: the setting, the snappy, brave protagonist, the writing that is somehow both matter-of-fact and also lushly atmospheric, the pacing, and the subversion of certain tropes about masculinity and love. As soon as I read the last word I wanted to rewind and start all over again, which is extremely rare for me (as in, it happens maybe once every 50 books or so). I snagged this at the library but will be investing in a copy for myself. It's that good. More than good, it's that FUN. 

There are plenty of little details here (like Noemi's knowledge of chemicals and dyes) that make this work so well, but I think overall the story is just a classic one. It borrows from the greats but it's not too boring or familiar - it has all the exciting elements for a fantastic gothic mystery. The villain is absolutely (and delightfully) awful and there's plenty of social commentary to unpack. I'm just really, really impressed.

I WANT ANOTHER ONE.

Mexican Gothic on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires

5 stars. I loved this. I'm so lucky I snagged it from the library, but I look forward to owning a copy one day so I can re-read my favorite bits. Absolutely epic.  

From the outside, Patricia Campbell has everything a woman could want - sensible husband, two kids, home in a nice neighborhood, a safe community. She's living the suburban dream. Unfortunately, life as a housewife and full-time mother leaves her feeling a bit hollowed out. She jumps at the chance to form a sort-of book club so she and other neighborhood moms can read all things dark and exciting: true crime, horror, and murderrrr books. 

Then a stranger shows up in the neighborhood, and things get weird. Patricia is violently attacked and children begin to disappear in the surrounding area. She's drawn to the stranger, but it soon becomes clear that he's not at all who he says he is - he's actually something much worse. Something that may or may not even be human. 

Like many (but not all) great books about vampires, The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires is not really about the monster. He exists rather in the shadows - in fact, he doesn't even show up until 10% in - as we watch Patricia Try To Have It All and Also Protect Her Children from a Suspicious Threat Even Though Nobody Believes Her.

(It's not actually that cliche - Patricia's a fantastically flawed heroine who messes up a ton with nothing but good, or at least understandable, intentions. Her friends are equally justified and essentially victims of a society designed to cripple women. So.)

Speaking of Nobody Believing Her, holy shit - I squirmed so much through the middle of the book, just prior to the flashforward. The term humiliation horror crossed my mind more than once as Patricia's character was completely squashed by the true monster of the book: her husband. All the husbands. All of them deserved so much worse than they got. I was hoping for a truly satisfying I Told You So moment, just to watch the tables turn. They deserved to be vampire food, all of them. Oh well. 

In many ways this book was exactly what I expected: a charming look at a group of strong and spirited Southern housewives versus a vampire in the 90s. In other ways, though, I was completely surprised. This book is so much more than a thrilling monster fight. It is a cultural study, a piece of anthropology, a tribute to imperfect efforts, a long overdue testament to the housewife, a deep and painful critique of the trash husbands of the not-so-distant past. It shouts loudly about the shittiness of marriage and parenting and adult friendships and the suburbs. It offers grotesque horror alongside hilarious moments. Slight uneven packing aside, there's snappy dialogue and true courage and a lovely wrap-up that left me grinning. Grady Hendrix nailed in. 

The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: A Cosmology of Monsters

4 stars. Absolutely fascinated with the pace of this unusual and horrifying story. I know everyone fetishes the debut novel but I’m gonna say it - this is an impressive one. I really look forward to seeing what Shaun Hamill writes next. This book just smells fresh, you know? 

I don’t want to go into too much detail (because I really enjoyed going in blind), but essentially this novel - told from the perspective of the youngest child - is about a family that gets targeted and stalked by something ... evil. A monster who preys on their suffering and torments their souls, a monster who eventually meets its match in young Noah. A monster who shows Noah more than he could ever dread or dream or think or feel. A monster who shows him that true horror - true evil, oh yes my pretties - lurks within ourselves. Perhaps even within existence itself.

The writing is GREAT. It’s smooth and conversational and quick in ways I haven’t experienced in awhile. The author captures his characters - none of whom are heroes (YASSSS) - so distinctly, so beautifully, I could actually picture them. The PACING! Absolutely awesome. Untraditional - there isn’t predictable rising action or even a climax, just one long, captivating ride that ends exactly the way it should. And the PREMISE! Oh god, so creative and imaginative and I want my own monster ASAP. A lot is asked of the reader but it never feels like a chore, it feels exciting and fun and delicious. And the fact that there are things left unexplained!! So refreshing.

So why 4 stars? I think my rating has more to do with me personally than anything with the book. I actually had a difficult time absorbing the dysfunction of the family and was pretty - sorry - triggered by several things, especially Margaret’s behavior. About a quarter of the way in I was kind of like ... not looking forward to continuing. I’m so glad I did! But yeah. There is some bone-deep exploration of relationships, and trauma, and depression, and some of the pages just weren’t enjoyable to read, for me.

Ugh, I almost want to delete that ^^^ entire paragraph, because I don’t typically shy away from dark stuff. Do NOT look for criticism in the fact that I was personally - sorry - triggered. It’s not criticism, I swear. But I rate my reading experience and not just the book itself. Just read the content warnings and proceed accordingly.

Anyway, THIS IS EXCELLENT LITERATURE. I SAID IT. LITERATURE. This should be STUDIED. This book is AMAZING. I’ll stop shouting eventually but honestly I’m so excited right now - I feel like a door has opened. And I’m running through it, bye.

A Cosmology of Monsters on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Monster of Elendhaven

3 stars. A little bit of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, a little bit of Villains by V.E. Schwab. It's a dark and delicious black forest cake with a bitter burst of cherry. It's very cool and very charming and drags you under before you realize what's happening. The worldbuilding is fun but not overwhelming, the pacing is fast but not speedy. And the word choice - my god, awesome premise, but this book is totally great beyond surface-level. 

Elendhaven is essentially a dying city - dirty, gritty, plagued, surrounded by a poisonous sea. While the leading society men dance and flop and flounder, a thing is born, a monster, a pseudo-golem type creature pulled to do his master's bidding. A master determined to seek revenge with blood and black magic, revenge for a painful past and a fatal future for the city. To go into more detail would be super confusing, so I won't. 

Unfortunately, I had a hard time feeling sucked in. It's outstanding - truly - but for whatever reason (my mood, the date, the weather), I wasn't as captivated as I should've been. As far as new and innovative horror goes, though, you can't do better. I really, really, really hope we see more. I loved Johann, I loved his relationship with Florian, and I loved the sheer creative madness of it all. 

“Monster was the best, his favorite word. The first half was a kiss, the second a hiss.”

The Monster of Elendhaven on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Birds and Other Stories

5 stars. MIND BLOWN. I'm officially convinced that Daphne du Maurier is my soulmate, spirit animal, favorite authoress, celebrity crush, historical hottie, best friend, sister from another mister, lady of my heart. I am determined to read every word she's written. Her words speak to my soul. 

From a technical standpoint, this story collection demonstrates not only her ability to build tension and dread, but also to write from a wide variety of personalities. Her tone varies based on character / narrator - do you know how rare it is to find an author who can properly write distinct voices? I was super impressed particularly by the transition from "The Little Photographer" to "Kiss Me Again, Stranger." The tone went from a sort of languid lusciousness to clipped and short and it worked in every way. 

Here are my thoughts on each:

"The Birds" - reading this felt like careening down a long, steep dip on a roller coaster, picking up speed, going faster and faster except without any sort of visible destination at the bottom. My heart rate went up. SPECTACULAR ending.

"Monte Verita" - reminded me of an episode of The Twilight Zone, or an old sci-fi film from the 70s, you know, like the ones that MST3K makes fun of? Otherwise, it captures feelings to which I relate immensely - the pure sense of escape when you immerse yourself in nature, the desire to throw everything away and reject society, the dreadful pull of conventional life paths and pursuits. "Often I wish I had the courage to throw my work aside, turn my back on the civilized world and its dubious delights, and go seeking after truth with my two friends. Only convention deterred me, the sense that I was making a successful career for myself, which it would be folly to cut short. The pattern of my life was set. It was too late to change." Also as a whole this story is definitely a metaphor for something. Or, there's a lesson here. I just don't feel like picking at it. 

"The Apple Tree" - clever and funny and scary all at once. What's that you hear? Is it the beating of a hideous heart beneath the floorboards? Nope, just an apple tree to haunt you...

"The Little Photographer" - an absolutely wicked story with a trademark insufferable narrator. Full of lush imagery and delicately gutting quotes like: "A love affair should be a thing of silence, soft, unspoken. No raucous voice, no burst of sudden laughter, but the kind of stealthy curiosity that comes with fear, and when the fear has gone, a brazen confidence. Never the give-and-take between good friends, but passion between strangers..." I'll be thinking about this one for a long time.

"Kiss Me Again, Stranger" - fucking brutal. Just when I thought I'd figured it out, she pulled the rug in a way that left me feeling dumbfounded and disturbed.

"The Old Man" - well, wow. Just wow. Perfect ending to a bright and unusual collection. Extremely fun and profoundly well-written.

I think I'm so consistently shocked by du Maurier because it seems to me like her writing should feel dated or old-fashioned or unrelatable - but it is, for me, actually the complete opposite. Her writing feels fresh and new and personally relevant in a way where many modern authors fail to connect. I felt the same after reading Rebecca and I look forward to seeing where she takes me next. 

The Birds and Other Stories on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein

4 stars. Positively delightful! A deliciously dark take on the classic Frankenstein with the right amount of themes and layers - but not too many to weigh down the sheer fun of it all. This book is written from the perspective of Elizabeth Frankenstein, Victor's childhood companion and eventual wife, who plays a twisted and fascinating role in his pursuits - and his successes. The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein is the perfect title for something like this, something unexpected and topsy-turvy and atmospheric. 

This is my first by Kiersten White and I have to say I'm impressed. She peppers the horror and the action with admirable claims about gender, power, relationships, and more. Victor is a classic villain (not a spoiler!) - one we can love to play the game with. He's hateful, of course, but well-written and has a satisfying arc. 

I also loved the tone: this is not historical fiction meant for extensive research or detail, but for thunderstorms and dusty bookstores and ice shacks over lakes. And our heroine wrestles with choice and mistakes and guilt and blindness and ignorance and awareness with astounding maturity and hope. I loved the idea that guilt and blame are distinct and that under certain circumstances, one can technically be blamed but should not feel guilt. 

If I had one complaint, I'd say that the ending - as scrumptious as it was - seemed a bit abrupt! I would've loved to see a bit of a longer conclusion, maybe a post-epilogue epilogue, because I had grown to love the featured characters and wasn't convinced that the end was truly the end (always shoot twice, as they say). Otherwise, an excellent book for reading by the crackling fireplace on a cold, rainy day. 

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Stand

5 stars. This review took me FORVER to write. I've been writing and re-writing and tinkering for days, which is unusual for me, and I'm afraid this is all still a bit of a mess. The Stand is obviously an impressive masterpiece, and I could leave it at that and call it a day. But as with all of Stephen King's work I do feel the itch to think a bit, to process a bit, to consider the layers of his brilliance as well as (well, here it comes) why this one wasn't a TOTAL home run for me. 

The Stand is about good versus evil. It's about the survivors of a flu-like plague that left the world decimated and destroyed. It's about a paranormal phenomena that follows the apocalypse, and how the survivors come together and try to re-build. It's about what threatens their efforts - a creature with ill-intent who thrives in this brave new world. It's about those who stand up to this threat and fight. It's about fate and free will and battles old as time. It's about love and hate and fear and courage and sacrifice and morality and identity and death and hope and all those other Big Things We Wrestle With As Advanced Thinkers On This Planet. 

I know, I know - why would you read about a virus-driven apocalypse during what feels like quite literally a virus-driven apocalypse? I'm not alone, I'm pretty sure a ton of people are turning to this book for comfort or escapism or some sort of masochistic instinct. For me, the reason was quite simple: it became available at the library. And I honestly wasn't "reminded" of real life as much as I expected. This is a fantastical story with supernatural elements, plus, Stephen King's stories never feel too "real" to me - except this one, when I got to the ending. It wasn't the plague that ending up feeling too real. It was the ending. Humans are so fucking doomed, dude. 

Here's what I absolutely loved:

- A collection of astonishingly well-written moments including: when Frannie tells her mother that she's pregnant (and the confrontation that follows - King's use of the parlor space hit me right in the gut), the introduction of Randall Flagg (the entire chapter is breathtaking), the sequence in the Lincoln Tunnel, that fucking ending!! Stuck the landing! With a boom! 

- The narrative criss-crossing. Sometimes I'm bothered by multiple POV's on such an epic scale, but King really nails it here. Sure, the pacing is a bit odd, and sometimes loose threads get tangled up in knots, but I don't feel as though he asks too much of the reader. Plus, everything comes together in the end. 

- Harold and Glen and Tom Cullen and Lloyd and Larry and the way King explores different types of masculinity. Harold especially is a fascinating character - I genuinely couldn't predict his arc until it was over (rather abruptly). King almost always nails the Big Bad, but he truly shines with the sidekick weasels. 

- The way the “heroes” "win” but return to life changed and damaged and unable to settle for good. It’s one of my favorite things about LOTR, which served as a major point of reference for this book, and I think it’s an important part of why I liked this as well.

Here's what bothered me:

- The writing sometimes FEELS old-fashioned. It was originally written in the 70s, so of course it does. And I've never been bothered by that before. But something about the exclamations ("golly!" "gee!" "wowie!") totally jarred me out of the immersion. 

- The length. I’m obsessed with the fact that everyone else seems to be obsessed with how long this book is! I’ve read arguments that say the length is why it works, and I’ve read arguments that say the length is why it doesn’t. Personally, I could’ve gone for some more editing. Especially in the middle, when things drag a bit and we’re extra focused on … like … the paperwork of rebuilding a society from scratch.

- King's portrayal of women. Mother Abigail shows a glimmer of the progressiveness King demonstrates in his other books, but Frannie cries often, as in, in almost every single one of her scenes (I started clocking halfway through and ... yep ... it's every single scene). While showing emotion like that may be realistic for a pregnant woman existing in an apocalyptic world, it drove me CRAZY. She also slips so easily into the compassionate/maternal role that it felt stereotypical and flat. And Nadine - beautiful, sexual... but just.... what was going on there? 

^^ This right here is partly why I've struggled so much with this review - I can barely articulate why I was annoyed. I just was. Maybe I expected King to shake off the sexism of the 70's when he wrote this, or the sexism in his thematic / tonal references (Westerns, Epics, etc.), maybe I expected more from him. Maybe I expected a greater spectrum of heroes, of personalities. For whatever reason I just found myself rolling my eyes quite a bit. 

Despite that weird quibble, this is obviously a masterpiece. There's something incredibly moving about the thought of doing what's right No Matter What. Even if what's right is difficult - I mean difficult right down through your bones. Even if what's right is likely impossible. But I think the standout theme for me is the fact that we all must reconcile with the consequences of our choices. We must own them and pay for them and live with them - or die by them. And that's about as epic as it gets, eh? 

The Stand on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads