Review: Pet Sematary

4 stars. Absolutely horrific. This took me eight months to read, for multiple reasons: pandemic burnout, lack of interest, but also maybe lack of enthusiasm for a book filled with such potent dread you can taste it. I'm so glad I stuck with it, though, because I blasted through to the end in a kind of obsessed panic. Phew, it's dark. Despite the fact that Pet Sematary narrates the story of a doctor who moves his family from Chicago to Maine for a new job - and their subsequent adjustment to the new way of life - this is really, quite definitely, undoubtedly, unsubtly about death.

Death in all its forms, shapes, and sizes. Death as an act and an experience and a thing to be feared, or revered. Death as tragedy; death as escape. Death through the eyes of children; adults; victims; survivors. Death as it is dealt with by different cultures and faiths and religions. King dives deep - really deep - into the idea that death is somehow both the most natural, universal truth of being human, and also one of the most unnatural, surreal events to encounter. Worse still, should it be somehow reversed.

I went in knowing already many of the iconic moments in this book, but the one that truly twisted me up inside was the revelation about Rachel's sister, Zelda. The sequence describing her illness and death had me terrified. It's often King's scenes like this - unexpected detours or side scenes - that really dig deep. Another one that comes to mind is the parlor scene from The Stand ... the interaction between Franny and her mother had me struggling to breathe. It's so good.

From a technical perspective, I would argue that this isn't one of King's best-written books (he knows this). That ending, lol. But also the pacing seems off, and the level of detail during certain scenes (and normally I love his level of detail!) had me skimming. It's a little outdated, a little misogynistic like a lot of King's older writing. Still, it's a must-read for fans of horror and of King. I sort of feel like I have an experience under my belt now, like a notch in my bed post, or an achievement unlocked. There's something really vivid about this one.

Pet Semetary on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Plain Bad Heroines

3 stars. Inn-turr-ess-tinggg. I'm thrown. I didn't hate this, don't worry, but something about it was, well, excruciatingly annoying to me. Between the quirky footnotes, the flashbacks, the lack of horror, the sheer wordiness of it all... plus, character access felt shallow; toe-deep, and the viewfinder felt off-kilter, like we could only see one corner of the full picture, or we could only look at it sideways.

The whole thing just didn't come together in the right way, for me. And it's very possible that it all just went over my head, too.

Story 1: Present. Three young women, two actresses and an author, are brought together to make a movie about Story 2.

Story 2: Early 1900s. Three young women die under mysterious circumstances (two stung by a swarm of yellow jackets; one ate poisonous flowers) at a school for girls in Rhode Island, and the principal must deal with the aftermath.

Our questions: did something sinister lead to their deaths? Why do strange and unusual things still happen on the school's land? How will they make a movie about its hauntings, despite its hauntings? And WTF does Mary MacLane have to do with it, other than connecting all the main characters and being kind of an original badass herself?

And also, in addition to being about all that, it's about women in love with each other and the many different colors of being queer. Which is wonderful.

But back to that sideways viewfinder. Maybe it was sideways, maybe it was foggy. I just couldn’t bring it into focus. I just couldn’t figure out what I was looking at. Carefully built momentum took me nowhere. Deep dives seemed pointless. The author led us down rabbit holes that didn't seem relevant or resolved. It's full of excellent moments, for sure, but the connective tissue just wasn't strong enough, for me. I hate to say it, because this mood board has almost everything I love on it - it's just, when I step back and look at it as a whole, it's a mess.

And back to that shallow character access. Especially in Story 1, I never really got to know the three girls. For real, deep down. The narrator (anonymous? Did I miss something?) tells - it's very tell-y - a lot about their actions and thoughts but they somehow still seemed so ... flat.

Finally, though this is marketed as horror, it doesn't really hit in a scary way. There are creepy moments, and a lot of meta-exposition on the academia of horror (which I admittedly loved), but no true frightening moments. I couldn't even really tell if the stakes were that high, honestly. And the climax proved, unfortunately, that they weren't, canceling any delicious dread I felt as the mystery unfolded.

So there it is. No regrets, truthfully, because I was absolutely picking up what it was putting down about queerness and queer history and I loved the gothic tropes and the themes. And I can't rate this any lower because it is truly impressive and ambitious and like I said above, it's possible it just went right over my head. I would LOVE for someone to convince me what I missed and what it’s all about and why I should LOVE it. But here we are. Thanks for listening, anyway.

Plain Bad Heroines on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Survivor Song

5 stars. Well, in a world that has turned out to be pretty wishy washy, I can always depend on one thing: Paul Tremblay will stress me out. I have no idea how or why he managed to get things so right, nor why I decided to pick this up now of all times, but here we are. Survivor Song is, as expected, a brutal and tense book full of awful things happening to good people. It is full of pain and fear and inconvenient, unfortunate truths. It didn't fuck me up as much as some of his others, but yeah, it's an immersive nightmare, if you're into that sort of thing, which I am. Lol.

Dr. Ramola Sherman, already nervous about a new rabies-like virus infecting the human population in Boston, is thrown into an intense emergency situation when her pregnant friend from college, Natalie, is bitten by an infected man. The two of them realize they must navigate from an overrun hospital through an infested area to reach a safe clinic before it's too late, challenged at every turn by miscommunication, government failure, untrustworthy citizens, and Natalie's worsening condition.

Sound familiar? Yyyyyikes. But it's really good. This is probably going to come across as super presumptuous, but I think it's Tremblay's best-written book to date. It's very simple in premise and execution (sort of like an episode of The Twilight Zone or a less-darkly-comedic Creepshow), and he's lost a lot of the analogy-laden writing that weighed down previous books. It's just snappy and well-paced and very frightening. I would also say that he absolutely nails the balance between horror and heart, which is tricky and rare.

I also really admire his female characters in this one. Actually, all the characters. For such a short book, I feel like he committed a ton of time to research, not just the scientific/medical stuff, but the personalities and motivations behind the choices his characters make. You can absolutely expect the sort of grisly ending that would be inevitable in this situation, and Tremblay knows this, so he focuses a ton of effort on the journey we take to get there. And it works really, really well. By the time it hits, we care. A lot. It's really emotional.

The use of location and space in this reminded me a lot of The Stand, which puts you smack dab in the middle of Boulder, CO - street names, landmarks and all. I'm guessing the highways, hospitals and other areas featured are accurate, which makes this even more badass and wonderful. It lends yet another real life flavor to what is already a devastatingly real story.

I think we can expect that Paul Tremblay's work will continue to evolve and grow in new ways. I think we can also expect that no matter where he goes, he will always be reliable for a good, fucking good, scary story. Consider me a superfan.

Survivor Song on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Only Good Indians

5 stars. Absolutely incredible. A surprising, thought-provoking, heavy metal level of scary book that really sticks. I slowed down on this so I could savor it and relish the unfolding of each dynamic, captivating chapter. I wanted to chew on it respectfully; wanted to really taste the creeping dread and brutal punches. Reading it this way - carefully, instead of barreling through - was an incredible experience and I feel kind of cleansed despite the buckets and buckets of blood (good horror does this to me?).

The Only Good Indians, borrowing its title from the infamous phrase, is about four Native American men living ten years after they experienced a strange and disturbing hunting trip on forbidden land. Two of them are eventually killed under brutally violent circumstances, and the others are haunted and hunted unaware as they continue to embrace and defy their cultural identities through fresh grief and old regrets. There's so much more, but I don't want to spoil anything.

This is a story that blurs lines all over the place. It's a slasher, but it's a twisty one - the monster may not be the monster after all. It's a mystery, but not to us as readers - to the characters who are largely oblivious of what stalks them. It's a cautionary fairy tale that teaches many lessons - with an unexpected take on good and evil. It's an exploration of Native American culture - but through a unique and fascinating and terrifying lens. It captures characters that suffer that internal battle within and around and about themselves so well: "He hates being from here. He loves it, but he also hates it so much."

It's a story about tradition and choices and the urge to chafe against your core identity; the urge to defy custom and ignore the rules; the urge to be wasteful for selfish reasons; the urge to resist the reality of your own making; the urge to escape what you can't; the urge to blame everyone and anyone for your decisions knowing that deep down it's you - it's your doing - and you'll pay for it in the end. It's a story about how outrunning the past is impossible. And it's about revenge. Deep, natural, solid, earthly, instinctual, all-encompassing, bigger-than-you-and-me vengeance that is ugly and beautiful at the same time.

It's also, wonderfully, about basketball and marriage and friendship and paperbacks and masculinity and motherhood at its most ancient and primal. It's full of delicious details that lighten up some super dark themes in entertaining ways. Second person is used brilliantly in the second half to a jarring and energetic effect. Pacing, plotting, dialogue - it's all there and it's all excellent. Also, there's a really clever play on the final girl trope.

And the ending brought it home in a way that made me cry, although I don't know if I can articulate why.

Random lines that jumped out to me: "The best jokes are the jokes that have a kind of message to them. A warning." and "They stand together, their doors closing at the same time, an accident of sound that makes the boy straighten his back, like it's bad luck."

By the way, there are two things in this world that I absolutely hate: reading/seeing/hearing about animals getting hurt or killed, and feeling hot, temperature-wise. This book has a lot of both. I don't usually issue trigger warnings but I AM WARNING YOU: if you, like me, were traumatized by Where the Red Fern Grows in fourth grade and can't even think the words Bambi or The Lion King without crying, this book is not for you.

In fact, I typically dock a star automatically for UDDs (Unnecessary Dog Deaths) because I often see it as a cheap shot to play on readers' emotions. I stuck with this book, though, because horror tends to wash differently into my brain than other genres, and it was worth it in the end. Plus it was written so perfectly, and (this is not a spoiler) the animal deaths were absolutely necessary IMO.

A must-read for horror fans - and I think for everyone. I'm obsessed with this and gutted in a good way.

The Only Good Indians on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Flyaway

3 stars. A tasty mix of Shirley Jackson with a pinch of Elmet. This story feels timeless - and by that I mean the time period is rarely marked. You feel like you could be reading about something that happened yesterday or eighty years ago. The uncanny sensation is just one component of this eerie stew of folklore and gothic imagery, a patchwork puzzle about one young woman's quest to capture even a slight impression of her true identity.

To summarize would be difficult and spoilery, so I'll just say that Flyaway is about Bettina Scott, a 19-year-old outcast, who lives with her proper mother in a small town in Queensland. She receives a letter from her missing brother that triggers something deep down under what we know to be a subdued and stifled personality. Unable to shake the implications of the letter and the mystery of her core identity, Bettina ... well ... dives into a rabbit hole and finds some monsters there instead.

It's a fever dream of a short book; a collection of strong scary stories that almost seem familiar, containing fairy tale elements with a cautionary edge. I'm fascinated by the perspective - at times it feels like we are looking at a very, very small corner of a giant tapestry. Questions and answers seem irrelevant and action rarely has the consequences we expect. It's trippy and confusing and absolutely gorgeous in its own way.

Unfortunately I just wasn't in the mood today. I had trouble concentrating and keeping a grip on the thread. The disjointed narrative felt jarring in a confusing way versus a subversive or interesting way. And I didn't feel a strong connection to any character or element of the story, leading to a 3-star rating. That being said, fans of horror, literary fiction and gothic literature should ABSOLUTELY read this. It's spectacular, just not a good fit for me (right now). Can't wait to see where this talented author goes next.

Flyaway on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Ruins

5 stars. FUCKING BRUTAL. And I fucking loved it. I have to say, this is an absolutely brilliant piece of horror. To develop the idea for this story, plot it out, and then fall into the right headspace to write it must have been absolute torture. Sure there's a level of predictability, but it's employed really well, like the meta moments strewn throughout the tropes. It's deeply disturbing and I am in awe.

The Ruins is about two couples who, while vacationing in Mexico, decide as a sort of adventure to help a new German friend find his missing brother. Accompanied by another new friend (a Greek man who speaks no English), the group ventures deep into the jungle to find the guy with varying levels of enthusiasm. It's hot, it's buggy, it's muddy, and by the time they reach what appears to be their destination, a sense of dread and discomfort permeates the group. Something is very wrong in this part of the jungle, and now the locals won't let them leave.

I've seen this book described as survival horror, but I'm not sure it fits so squarely under that umbrella. Ultimately it is about survival, and there are enough anxious parts about finding water and food rationing to satisfy even the most academic reader. But there is another evil central to the story - an unnatural, malevolent force - that threatens them in sadistic, horrifying, almost playful ways. That's true horror right there. That's a monster. To have this force play with and off of the natural attempts to survive exposure is breathtaking. No complaints about the villain.

Along the lines of survival: I have to say, I've read (and watched) horror all my life and I've never really contemplated my own mortality in ways that this book inspired. I think it's mostly due to context (2020, heavily associated with death) and some recent news that sent me spinning a bit, and maybe my own experiences traveling, but man, some of these passages punched me right in the existential feels. You’ve been warned. But for me, no complaints about the triggers.

I have seen other reviews touch on the fact that these characters may or may not be one-dimensional, idiotic, not worth rooting for; may or may not even be likeable. Did I feel annoyed with them, at times? OH MY GOD YES. Did I want to yell at them? PUT DOWN THAT WATER, AMY. Did I want a little more complexity beneath all the hand-wringing and tequila slinging? I FEEL LIKE MATHIAS WAS HOT. HE WAS HOT, RIGHT? But at the end of the day it didn't matter, it didn't impact my reading experience negatively. I thought each character's arc was actually really well-planned and well-written. And so, no complaints about the characters.

I know I fucking drone on about Stephen King all the time and I'm constantly comparing other authors to him and blah blah blah. I'm sorry! I can't help it. But trust me when I say this: The Ruins will appeal to readers who enjoy King. It's that good and Scott Smith is that talented. I can see why it's considered a classic.

And now I'm going to go take a big ol’ shower.

The Ruins on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

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