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Failure to Thrive by Meghan Lamb
It's heart-breaking, soul-shattering, it's absolutely glorious. Reading this novel makes you feel as if you've been hollowed out, as if your soul has been removed, it makes you feel as if you're being swallowed by the coal town, as if you're nothing but a ghost, fading into the nothingness. This could easily be a novel about a real town, we could so very easily, be visiting the lives of real people, that's the true beauty of it all. It's simply a sad, sad look at a waste of potential. Standing witness to the slow decline of these characters, unable to intervene as their lives crumble, it's something striking and poetic and all too affecting.
Failure to Thrive occupies a space in literature in which there is a massive, yawning gap. We need more novels such as this one, they're more than simply books, they are works of art, ones that leave us with an almost impossible to describe level of melancholy. They say the devil is in the details, but here, the devil lies in the subtleties, in the death and decay captured by this novel. It's a wholly unsettling thing, a grim, wonderful, euphoric read about the final breaths of small town America. If there's one last book you're going to read, make it this one.
"It is a late fall night. The smell of burning leaves has been replaced by smells of burnt ash buried underneath the frost. The cold damp of the wind picks up the coal dust. David thinks, it is a lonely smell, the coal dust blowing in the cold. He thinks about the old coal fireplace his parents used to use. It was a pain to load, and to clean, and honestly, it smelled bad. But he feels strange now, standing in his own front yard, with his own family, looking down at the town, breathing the lonely cold."
4.5
"You need to know what once was there, or you will never notice anything. You'll likely just drive through it, up the steep curve of the mountain, on the new highway, not knowing there's an old highway - paint-sprayed and cracked, behind the trees - that had to be abandoned. The whole thing looks like hills and brush."
Desolate. Barren. Bleak. Devastating. Those are the first words conjured when thinking about Failure To Thrive. This is a quiet, harrowing and deeply unsettling yet, painfully beautiful story of a rotting, decaying and deteriorating coal town, whose residents seem unable to fight against the regressive state of their lives. It's realist fiction, there's a rich, deep history to this novel, there's troves of small town gossip and badly kept secrets, there's the hapless inhabitants of the town just trying to survive. Meghan Lamb has somehow managed to breathe life into the mundane, taking something that should be tedious and dull and creating something so captivating and marvelous from it instead. Behind each rotting door and broken window, despite their crushing circumstances and the constantly gray skies, there are people who rise to face the day. This is their story.
Failure to Thrive captures that specific feeling of misery that I seek in fiction, a feeling so rarely found. All possible boundaries, all conventionality, lies in ruin, smudged, practically rubbed away for this enrapturing and depressing story. On the surface it feels all very nihilistic, but, it's actually not, because there is a point to the lives of these characters. In the end, it's all about survival, really. Somehow, this novel feels so rich and dense and yet so, devoid of anything. Failure to Thrive is a novel of tragedy, of pain and sadness and ruined lives and broken hearts, it's so, so crushingly somber that it practically radiates sorrow. Megan Lamb has crafted something wondrous, a story that's both believable and still sinks its hooks into our flesh.
Desolate. Barren. Bleak. Devastating. Those are the first words conjured when thinking about Failure To Thrive. This is a quiet, harrowing and deeply unsettling yet, painfully beautiful story of a rotting, decaying and deteriorating coal town, whose residents seem unable to fight against the regressive state of their lives. It's realist fiction, there's a rich, deep history to this novel, there's troves of small town gossip and badly kept secrets, there's the hapless inhabitants of the town just trying to survive. Meghan Lamb has somehow managed to breathe life into the mundane, taking something that should be tedious and dull and creating something so captivating and marvelous from it instead. Behind each rotting door and broken window, despite their crushing circumstances and the constantly gray skies, there are people who rise to face the day. This is their story.
Failure to Thrive captures that specific feeling of misery that I seek in fiction, a feeling so rarely found. All possible boundaries, all conventionality, lies in ruin, smudged, practically rubbed away for this enrapturing and depressing story. On the surface it feels all very nihilistic, but, it's actually not, because there is a point to the lives of these characters. In the end, it's all about survival, really. Somehow, this novel feels so rich and dense and yet so, devoid of anything. Failure to Thrive is a novel of tragedy, of pain and sadness and ruined lives and broken hearts, it's so, so crushingly somber that it practically radiates sorrow. Megan Lamb has crafted something wondrous, a story that's both believable and still sinks its hooks into our flesh.
"There is the world as it is - as it has always been - for Emily. The world of the town, the mural of the town. The world of chipped paint, boarded windows, beautiful things, ugly things, of two extremes, always together, blending into one. The world of paper rotted into walls, of walls bending and bowing, wires tangled into vines, the shit-creek, of all things that people lose, or toss, forget about, inside that creek, turning in small frustrated circles, burning and disintegrating into nothing. "
It's heart-breaking, soul-shattering, it's absolutely glorious. Reading this novel makes you feel as if you've been hollowed out, as if your soul has been removed, it makes you feel as if you're being swallowed by the coal town, as if you're nothing but a ghost, fading into the nothingness. This could easily be a novel about a real town, we could so very easily, be visiting the lives of real people, that's the true beauty of it all. It's simply a sad, sad look at a waste of potential. Standing witness to the slow decline of these characters, unable to intervene as their lives crumble, it's something striking and poetic and all too affecting.
Failure to Thrive occupies a space in literature in which there is a massive, yawning gap. We need more novels such as this one, they're more than simply books, they are works of art, ones that leave us with an almost impossible to describe level of melancholy. They say the devil is in the details, but here, the devil lies in the subtleties, in the death and decay captured by this novel. It's a wholly unsettling thing, a grim, wonderful, euphoric read about the final breaths of small town America. If there's one last book you're going to read, make it this one.
"It is a late fall night. The smell of burning leaves has been replaced by smells of burnt ash buried underneath the frost. The cold damp of the wind picks up the coal dust. David thinks, it is a lonely smell, the coal dust blowing in the cold. He thinks about the old coal fireplace his parents used to use. It was a pain to load, and to clean, and honestly, it smelled bad. But he feels strange now, standing in his own front yard, with his own family, looking down at the town, breathing the lonely cold."
Piñata by Leopoldo Gout
Absolutely drenched in gore and dripping from page to page in entrails, Piñata is an ambitious and entirely crazed horror novel, it's a dread inducing wild ride. Aside from the absolutely gorgeous prose, the strongest two points of this novel are the intensity of its horror, and, its characters. In fact, the characters are often the stand-out moments of this novel. Sure, one could argue that Piñata acts as a character study half of the time, but it still acts as a traditional horror novel too, just one that has some fun and fresh twists. It's a truly fantastic and memorable experience, to read this book, it's a delicately unfurling tale of terror, one that takes its time, but certainly, is worth the wait.
"It was grotesquely proportioned, a parody of human form. A skin of seashells jingled around its skeletal legs as it moved toward a small fluttering light where the small girl had been. The skeletal figure had no visible soul, an apparition. "
4.0
"A terribly pale face, skeletal and eyeless, emerged from the shadow. Near skinless, what flesh it maintained hung tattered and decaying from its visage like ribbons. It's body unrevealed, the face drew nearer to the friar and its neck extended farther and father."
Steeped in folklorish wonder, and absolutely drenched in rich, beautifully detailed Mexican culture, Piñata is a vivid, intensely cinematic and extremely terrifying horror novel that delivers a totally fresh and unique take on the traditional possession story. The kaleidoscopic and decadent cultural influences strengthen this novel, turning it from a typical horror novel into something captivating and shocking. There is some real brutality here, some utterly gruesome and nasty depictions of horrors both of this world and supernatural. Never once does it hold back, Piñata instead, plunges us head first into the depths of Hell and forces us to reckon with some truly scathing, sickening and horrific scenes. This novel is nothing short of savage, it's barbaric, brutal, horrible, and yet, Leopoldo Gout writes with a beauty that goes unmatched.
This intense juxtaposition only heightens the shocking scenes and makes them linger in our brains for longer. Piñata is a punishing, unflinching and fiercely angry novel, one that's strangely and wonderfully female centric for something written by a male author. As with most horror novels, Piñata does have its slower moments, but here, as soon as the action begins, it becomes a picturesque and enrapturing beast. In a way, it's almost a blissful thing, it's striking and glorious just how wonderfully this is written. Unlike most horror novels, however, Piñata opens with a real bang, its prologue is perhaps one of the most harrowing, gut-wrenching and gripping openings to a novel ever penned. As a lover of a good, slow burning story of demonic rage, I greatly enjoyed my time with this one.
Steeped in folklorish wonder, and absolutely drenched in rich, beautifully detailed Mexican culture, Piñata is a vivid, intensely cinematic and extremely terrifying horror novel that delivers a totally fresh and unique take on the traditional possession story. The kaleidoscopic and decadent cultural influences strengthen this novel, turning it from a typical horror novel into something captivating and shocking. There is some real brutality here, some utterly gruesome and nasty depictions of horrors both of this world and supernatural. Never once does it hold back, Piñata instead, plunges us head first into the depths of Hell and forces us to reckon with some truly scathing, sickening and horrific scenes. This novel is nothing short of savage, it's barbaric, brutal, horrible, and yet, Leopoldo Gout writes with a beauty that goes unmatched.
This intense juxtaposition only heightens the shocking scenes and makes them linger in our brains for longer. Piñata is a punishing, unflinching and fiercely angry novel, one that's strangely and wonderfully female centric for something written by a male author. As with most horror novels, Piñata does have its slower moments, but here, as soon as the action begins, it becomes a picturesque and enrapturing beast. In a way, it's almost a blissful thing, it's striking and glorious just how wonderfully this is written. Unlike most horror novels, however, Piñata opens with a real bang, its prologue is perhaps one of the most harrowing, gut-wrenching and gripping openings to a novel ever penned. As a lover of a good, slow burning story of demonic rage, I greatly enjoyed my time with this one.
"He reached behind him with a limp hand and felt the cold edge of the parking sign poking out from the other side of his back, slick with blood. The muscles in his neck fully gave out and his head slumped forward, looking straight down at the opposite corner of the metal sign where a black butterfly was perched, gently opening and closing its wings. That's how they found him. Eyes open, unseeing, and staring at something that was no longer there."
Absolutely drenched in gore and dripping from page to page in entrails, Piñata is an ambitious and entirely crazed horror novel, it's a dread inducing wild ride. Aside from the absolutely gorgeous prose, the strongest two points of this novel are the intensity of its horror, and, its characters. In fact, the characters are often the stand-out moments of this novel. Sure, one could argue that Piñata acts as a character study half of the time, but it still acts as a traditional horror novel too, just one that has some fun and fresh twists. It's a truly fantastic and memorable experience, to read this book, it's a delicately unfurling tale of terror, one that takes its time, but certainly, is worth the wait.
"It was grotesquely proportioned, a parody of human form. A skin of seashells jingled around its skeletal legs as it moved toward a small fluttering light where the small girl had been. The skeletal figure had no visible soul, an apparition. "
The Invocations by Krystal Sutherland
The Invocations is truly a vivid and vibrant experience despite what a dark, devoid of light, pit of despair it feels like. Make no mistake, it's utterly grim, and grapples with some rather disturbing topics yet it still felt like a joy to read. It really ticks all the boxes, there's highly interesting occult elements, fantastic character dynamics, violent, horrifying body horror too. It's a book that has a lot to say, and it demands to be heard. Despite being far from my usual read, as someone who doesn't pull towards YA fantasy horror novels, who doesn't typically explore tales of witches and magic, it was an absolutely delightful experience - a wonderful, fantastical blend of murder mystery and campy horror elements that felt so engrossing and enticing.
"There were three of them, in the beginning. They were monstrous things, their bodies stretched long and thin like sinew. Their skin was dull glass and clung to their bones like wet fabric. They walked on two legs but were just as comfortable loping on all fours like a predator. When you opened your sight to them, you also opened your other senses: smell, hearing. They stank of sulfur and sour rot. They called to each other like animals, the pitch going from low to high like Hyenas. They bickered and snapped at one another. They were grotesque. "
4.0
"The night is heavy when they begin to dig. Kerosene lamps burn softly around them, lighting the orchard where Emer's dead family sleeps. The sounds of the forest come to them, leave them on edge: the screaming of foxes, the rustle of wild things drawn near, curious about these strangers in their midst. The earth is soft as a bruised peach and parts easily beneath their hands. The mire is wet with blood. Each handful of removed mud leaves a pool of red in its wake."
Equal parts rather horrifying character study, and gritty, dark murder mystery tale packed with horror elements, The Invocations is a powerful and poignant tale of finding who you really are. A thick, cloying, oppressive, almost dirty atmosphere lingers around the pages of this novel, it feels so rich yet so heavy. There's a real brutality to this story, a savageness, something twisted and festering and foul that churns away at this book's very core. The Invocations is, distinctly, very clearly, a YA novel yet, it doesn't read too young, in fact it's actually pretty damn gruesome, still highly enjoyable for those of us who don't really read much YA. It's a highly engrossing, and beautifully written tale, Sutherland's story is one that won't be so easily forgotten.
The Invocations so masterfully explores the very nature of feeling unsafe, it plunges the horrors that are toxic families, and it shows us the true power of acceptance. Despite the honeyed overtones, it's an extremely gory and sickening little book. Part intense, almost feral murder mystery, part horror story, part witchy fantasy tale, this no holds barred, empowering wild ride is the perfect kind of book for the encroaching spooky season. It's so utterly steeped in luscious, thick, gothic charm, it's packed to it's very brim with grotesque, vile, unpleasant body horror scenes, it's an absolute treat, something monstrous, oozing with rot and dread, yet, something blissful and enrapturing too. There's something truly remarkable about The Invocations, it's at once harrowing and yet also strangely comforting.
Equal parts rather horrifying character study, and gritty, dark murder mystery tale packed with horror elements, The Invocations is a powerful and poignant tale of finding who you really are. A thick, cloying, oppressive, almost dirty atmosphere lingers around the pages of this novel, it feels so rich yet so heavy. There's a real brutality to this story, a savageness, something twisted and festering and foul that churns away at this book's very core. The Invocations is, distinctly, very clearly, a YA novel yet, it doesn't read too young, in fact it's actually pretty damn gruesome, still highly enjoyable for those of us who don't really read much YA. It's a highly engrossing, and beautifully written tale, Sutherland's story is one that won't be so easily forgotten.
The Invocations so masterfully explores the very nature of feeling unsafe, it plunges the horrors that are toxic families, and it shows us the true power of acceptance. Despite the honeyed overtones, it's an extremely gory and sickening little book. Part intense, almost feral murder mystery, part horror story, part witchy fantasy tale, this no holds barred, empowering wild ride is the perfect kind of book for the encroaching spooky season. It's so utterly steeped in luscious, thick, gothic charm, it's packed to it's very brim with grotesque, vile, unpleasant body horror scenes, it's an absolute treat, something monstrous, oozing with rot and dread, yet, something blissful and enrapturing too. There's something truly remarkable about The Invocations, it's at once harrowing and yet also strangely comforting.
"The undead creature finishes its meal and then realizes, when it touches the bolt, that the metal is searing hot. It hisses and rears back. It is trapped. It bucks in its cage. It froths at the mouth. It screams in foul, unknown languages. The fire licks at its feet. The scraps of clothing it is dressed in begin to melt on its body. Finally, it comes to stillness. It locks eyes with Zara. It is haunted and ghostly, its eyes wide. It is frightened. Zara knows then that some of Savana has survived inside it. That her sister is about to die again."
The Invocations is truly a vivid and vibrant experience despite what a dark, devoid of light, pit of despair it feels like. Make no mistake, it's utterly grim, and grapples with some rather disturbing topics yet it still felt like a joy to read. It really ticks all the boxes, there's highly interesting occult elements, fantastic character dynamics, violent, horrifying body horror too. It's a book that has a lot to say, and it demands to be heard. Despite being far from my usual read, as someone who doesn't pull towards YA fantasy horror novels, who doesn't typically explore tales of witches and magic, it was an absolutely delightful experience - a wonderful, fantastical blend of murder mystery and campy horror elements that felt so engrossing and enticing.
"There were three of them, in the beginning. They were monstrous things, their bodies stretched long and thin like sinew. Their skin was dull glass and clung to their bones like wet fabric. They walked on two legs but were just as comfortable loping on all fours like a predator. When you opened your sight to them, you also opened your other senses: smell, hearing. They stank of sulfur and sour rot. They called to each other like animals, the pitch going from low to high like Hyenas. They bickered and snapped at one another. They were grotesque. "
Hairs by Ira Rat
Fiercely emotional, a total void of a novella, blistering and brutal. Each of the stories in Hairs felt like an apocalypse. It's too difficult to define the exact feeling left behind by Hairs, but it was something akin to hunkering down in a bomb shelter while the rest of humanity watches itself crumble. Some real bleak shit. There's something haunting and despairing about this entire collection, what strange little things they are, definitely not horror, yet they fit the bill, being scary, horrible, monstrous things. If minimalist horror is a thing, maybe that's what this is, stripped away, cut down, every single unnecessary word cast aside until all that's left is the most simplistic, distressing and somber of prose. Absolutely electrifying, an experience like no other.
"Again." Her mother demanded from within another spasm of coughs. A bottle of bleach was in her hand, and she slowly began adding it to the water. "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the bible tells me-" Her mother plunged her face into the sink."
4.0
"I pull at the stitches, and they come out without any effort. Just the slow, uncomfortable feeling of floss being dragged across my gums. Tender and as deliberate as I can be until they're gone, and the skin falls loose again, now dropping past my bottom lip."
Lonely, bleak, and deeply upsetting. Ira Rat's Hairs is an anxiety riddled, atmospheric, crushing pit of despair and sadness. These extremely short stories deliver a total gut-punch, so miserable and sorrowful. The tales contained within Hairs are intensely mesmerizing and all too memorable, at first, these weird and wonderful little tales may feel disjointed, but each one is connected by desolation and depression. Each story abruptly ends, utterly unresolved, feeling much like being shoved off a cliff and plunging head first into the murky depths below. With Hairs, Ira Rat has put faith into the minds of the reader, it's on us, after all, to allow our twisted imaginations to run free. There's a brutal uniqueness to this grim little novella, and for a book so tiny, it has some serious teeth.
Hairs reads like almost no other book I've ever experienced. It's art. It's something that totally transcends the written word. Somehow, by saying so little, Ira Rat spins images that twist and gnarl into beastly forms that beg to break free from the pages. This isn't a horror novel, these aren't tales of terror, instead this is a novel of discomfort and abandonment. Perhaps, we may call these tales slices of life, except they're not. They're cutting, scathing, horrendous vignettes that make for a viscerally unpleasant experience. These stories are deeply unnerving, absolutely harrowing, upsetting to the core. It's almost impossible to fully describe what this book even is. It was so short, over so quickly and yet it felt like the end of everything - Hairs made me want to drink bleach.
Lonely, bleak, and deeply upsetting. Ira Rat's Hairs is an anxiety riddled, atmospheric, crushing pit of despair and sadness. These extremely short stories deliver a total gut-punch, so miserable and sorrowful. The tales contained within Hairs are intensely mesmerizing and all too memorable, at first, these weird and wonderful little tales may feel disjointed, but each one is connected by desolation and depression. Each story abruptly ends, utterly unresolved, feeling much like being shoved off a cliff and plunging head first into the murky depths below. With Hairs, Ira Rat has put faith into the minds of the reader, it's on us, after all, to allow our twisted imaginations to run free. There's a brutal uniqueness to this grim little novella, and for a book so tiny, it has some serious teeth.
Hairs reads like almost no other book I've ever experienced. It's art. It's something that totally transcends the written word. Somehow, by saying so little, Ira Rat spins images that twist and gnarl into beastly forms that beg to break free from the pages. This isn't a horror novel, these aren't tales of terror, instead this is a novel of discomfort and abandonment. Perhaps, we may call these tales slices of life, except they're not. They're cutting, scathing, horrendous vignettes that make for a viscerally unpleasant experience. These stories are deeply unnerving, absolutely harrowing, upsetting to the core. It's almost impossible to fully describe what this book even is. It was so short, over so quickly and yet it felt like the end of everything - Hairs made me want to drink bleach.
"Cancer causes cancer-causing cancers. You've got to avoid them at all costs. My first memory of my mother is her holding her fingers like a bunny quoting. I'm late! I'm late! The last is crying over a radiated husk."
Fiercely emotional, a total void of a novella, blistering and brutal. Each of the stories in Hairs felt like an apocalypse. It's too difficult to define the exact feeling left behind by Hairs, but it was something akin to hunkering down in a bomb shelter while the rest of humanity watches itself crumble. Some real bleak shit. There's something haunting and despairing about this entire collection, what strange little things they are, definitely not horror, yet they fit the bill, being scary, horrible, monstrous things. If minimalist horror is a thing, maybe that's what this is, stripped away, cut down, every single unnecessary word cast aside until all that's left is the most simplistic, distressing and somber of prose. Absolutely electrifying, an experience like no other.
"Again." Her mother demanded from within another spasm of coughs. A bottle of bleach was in her hand, and she slowly began adding it to the water. "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the bible tells me-" Her mother plunged her face into the sink."
Horror Movie by Paul Tremblay
Tremblay's work leaves me with mixed feelings. Some of his novels I've adored, and others, not so much. Horror Movie sits somewhere in the middle - it was an immensely enjoyable experience, but I wasn't in love with the book as a whole. Almost every single thing in this entire novel screams unreliability, it's a twisting, screaming, labyrinthine nightmare. The real issue is, the actual screenplay itself is something so harrowing, so brilliantly surreal and grotesque that, you want that to have been the story instead. However, this novel does have a uniqueness not often found in the mainstream horror scene, it's macabre and highly disturbing, in fact, it's entirely soul crushing. Horror Movie requires you to invest time into it, it's a slowly unraveling tale, but, in the end, it pays off.
"That the houses are well kept and front lawns and shrubs groomed are the only visible signs of human occupancy. This suburban neighborhood is a ghost town - no, it's a picturesque hell so many desperately strive for, and so few will escape."
3.5
"The classroom is cloudy with smoke. The teens cough and grunt and burn the Thin Kid with their cigarettes until finally (this scene lasts an uncomfortably long time; the first burns shocked and thrilled us, but now we don't know what we want, don't know what we must endure) the pack of cigarettes is empty."
Presented to us in an extremely unusual format, Tremblay's Horror Movie is a slow burning yet intensely feverish, extremely fun and highly enjoyable horror novel. Going in to this one, you're almost set to expect a haunted movie set, but, that's absolutely not what you get. This novel is a shocker, it subverts every expectation. Despite it being a bit of a challenge to read, given the way the book is plotted, it's so utterly engrossing and addictive. From the very first page of Horror Movie, it's clear that things can not, will not, end happily, it's clear that this story is heading towards disaster, yet, it's impossible to peel your eyes away. Like a car wreck in slow motion Horror Movie carefully exposes us to horrors best left imagined.
Horror Movie is constantly switching between the present day (the reboot of the movie) the past (the filming of the unreleased movie that started it all) and the screenplay for the movie itself. It's all so very sad, and bleak and soul-destroying. Perhaps, at times, it could be even considered, scary. But the real horror here isn't some monster, it's the brutal, cloying, absolutely ruinous nature of the story itself. Initially, this book is a lot to figure out, but, when it gets going, when the pieces fall together, it's absolutely brilliant. Fearless and wonderful, this story is a total mindfuck. Disorienting and confusing, feeling as if it's about to swallow you whole, Horror Movie is a manipulative little novel, toying with us readers until it feels satisfied enough to make its grand reveal.
Presented to us in an extremely unusual format, Tremblay's Horror Movie is a slow burning yet intensely feverish, extremely fun and highly enjoyable horror novel. Going in to this one, you're almost set to expect a haunted movie set, but, that's absolutely not what you get. This novel is a shocker, it subverts every expectation. Despite it being a bit of a challenge to read, given the way the book is plotted, it's so utterly engrossing and addictive. From the very first page of Horror Movie, it's clear that things can not, will not, end happily, it's clear that this story is heading towards disaster, yet, it's impossible to peel your eyes away. Like a car wreck in slow motion Horror Movie carefully exposes us to horrors best left imagined.
Horror Movie is constantly switching between the present day (the reboot of the movie) the past (the filming of the unreleased movie that started it all) and the screenplay for the movie itself. It's all so very sad, and bleak and soul-destroying. Perhaps, at times, it could be even considered, scary. But the real horror here isn't some monster, it's the brutal, cloying, absolutely ruinous nature of the story itself. Initially, this book is a lot to figure out, but, when it gets going, when the pieces fall together, it's absolutely brilliant. Fearless and wonderful, this story is a total mindfuck. Disorienting and confusing, feeling as if it's about to swallow you whole, Horror Movie is a manipulative little novel, toying with us readers until it feels satisfied enough to make its grand reveal.
"His appearance is almost a relief, a balm, as much as his arrival is frightening, because we'd begun to believe and fear our vigil might never end. We're eager to be rid of this horrible glimpse at the madness of eternity."
Tremblay's work leaves me with mixed feelings. Some of his novels I've adored, and others, not so much. Horror Movie sits somewhere in the middle - it was an immensely enjoyable experience, but I wasn't in love with the book as a whole. Almost every single thing in this entire novel screams unreliability, it's a twisting, screaming, labyrinthine nightmare. The real issue is, the actual screenplay itself is something so harrowing, so brilliantly surreal and grotesque that, you want that to have been the story instead. However, this novel does have a uniqueness not often found in the mainstream horror scene, it's macabre and highly disturbing, in fact, it's entirely soul crushing. Horror Movie requires you to invest time into it, it's a slowly unraveling tale, but, in the end, it pays off.
"That the houses are well kept and front lawns and shrubs groomed are the only visible signs of human occupancy. This suburban neighborhood is a ghost town - no, it's a picturesque hell so many desperately strive for, and so few will escape."
Cuckoo by Gretchen Felker-Martin
For everything that this novel is, it's also entirely exhausting. Experiencing Cuckoo will tire you out, it'll leave you utterly desperate for a break. Seamlessly blending together mundane real world horrors with something entirely otherworldly, Cuckoo is a novel of contrasts, with a rather stunning depiction of the American landscape being cast against its brutality. A heap of wonderful, traditional horror elements have been flung into this novel, that, in a way, make it all feel rather nostalgic for the days of IT and Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It's a bloodthirsty beast of a story, something dark, twisted, rotting and festering, entirely intent on trampling all over anyone's tolerance for disgusting content. It's startling and utterly gutting, and it deserves to be read.
"This is the nature of separation. Pain. Loneliness. Deformations of desire all to bridge a gap that cannot be bridged, save through union with us. With me. Aren't you tired of being afraid? Of being lonely?"
4.0
"At night she dreamed of Casey torn apart by lions on the African veldt, of hyenas with matted red faces cracking her daughter's blood-slimed femurs in their jaws, of black flies swarming over exposed viscera and vultures roosting on the rotten arch of a scraped knee, plucking Casey's eyes out of their sinking sockets."
This is one angry fucking horror novel. Intense, horrific and highly disturbing, Cuckoo is perhaps one of the single most terrifying and grotesque extreme horror novels there is. It's absolutely relentless and unforgiving, refusing to offer even the smallest moment of respite. Cuckoo is the type of book that invades your personal space and won't ever leave. Despite the gritty, grimy, gore slicked outer coating of this hyper-ferocious novel, there's a real tenderness hidden away, you just have to be brave enough to plunge headfirst into this nightmare. An insanely creative novel, with top-notch body horror, Cuckoo is like stepping right onto a landmine, immensely painful, regrettable, and life changing. The vividty of the awful, horrible focus around smell really elevates this into something absolutely putrid and nasty.
Cuckoo stands as one of the most confrontational, visceral, feral, and blistering horror novels on the market today. This book is guaranteed to make you heave, it promises to find your limit for gross shit. It's uncomfortable, shocking, gory and slimy - packed full of disgusting, god-awful body horror. Really, it's a masterful novel, not only is it horrible and sickening, it's also thought-provoking and weirdly beautiful. Gretchen Felker-Martin writes with such a gorgeous tenderness, it's vivid and entirely unsettling, but there's some real charm to this novel too. Cuckoo is a violent novel, it's a volcano erupting, it's an RPG fired directly into your face, it's a novel made up entirely of cruelty. Be warned, you won't be able to ever forget this one.
This is one angry fucking horror novel. Intense, horrific and highly disturbing, Cuckoo is perhaps one of the single most terrifying and grotesque extreme horror novels there is. It's absolutely relentless and unforgiving, refusing to offer even the smallest moment of respite. Cuckoo is the type of book that invades your personal space and won't ever leave. Despite the gritty, grimy, gore slicked outer coating of this hyper-ferocious novel, there's a real tenderness hidden away, you just have to be brave enough to plunge headfirst into this nightmare. An insanely creative novel, with top-notch body horror, Cuckoo is like stepping right onto a landmine, immensely painful, regrettable, and life changing. The vividty of the awful, horrible focus around smell really elevates this into something absolutely putrid and nasty.
Cuckoo stands as one of the most confrontational, visceral, feral, and blistering horror novels on the market today. This book is guaranteed to make you heave, it promises to find your limit for gross shit. It's uncomfortable, shocking, gory and slimy - packed full of disgusting, god-awful body horror. Really, it's a masterful novel, not only is it horrible and sickening, it's also thought-provoking and weirdly beautiful. Gretchen Felker-Martin writes with such a gorgeous tenderness, it's vivid and entirely unsettling, but there's some real charm to this novel too. Cuckoo is a violent novel, it's a volcano erupting, it's an RPG fired directly into your face, it's a novel made up entirely of cruelty. Be warned, you won't be able to ever forget this one.
"It was waiting at the forest's edge. They must have been almost a mile away by then, but the size of it made distance hard to judge. A landslide of flesh, white and pink and brown and scabby red, banners of wet hair hanging like moss from limbs that coiled around dead tree trunks. Delicate fronds waved among the branches as the thing heaped itself higher, cresting like a wave but never quite breaking for all that it strained toward them."
For everything that this novel is, it's also entirely exhausting. Experiencing Cuckoo will tire you out, it'll leave you utterly desperate for a break. Seamlessly blending together mundane real world horrors with something entirely otherworldly, Cuckoo is a novel of contrasts, with a rather stunning depiction of the American landscape being cast against its brutality. A heap of wonderful, traditional horror elements have been flung into this novel, that, in a way, make it all feel rather nostalgic for the days of IT and Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It's a bloodthirsty beast of a story, something dark, twisted, rotting and festering, entirely intent on trampling all over anyone's tolerance for disgusting content. It's startling and utterly gutting, and it deserves to be read.
"This is the nature of separation. Pain. Loneliness. Deformations of desire all to bridge a gap that cannot be bridged, save through union with us. With me. Aren't you tired of being afraid? Of being lonely?"
College Novel by Blake Middleton
College Novel is just so god-damn real. It's so amazingly raw and authentic and brutal. It's depressing as all hell. Blake Middleton has created a cataclysmic event of a novel, one that'll fool you with how safe and comforting it all feels, and then, when you're at your most vulnerable, it'll eviscerate you by peeling away the shiny, perfect coating of modern life to expose its rotting innards. It's essentially, at its core, a book about a bunch of kids who decided that drugs were the only worthwhile part of the college lives. It's built entirely around being a novel of dialogue, and it's one of the better offerings in this style. It's a total mind-warp, even now, I'm not quite sure what to say about this book, other than, I loved it.
"I wanna get shot in the back of the head with no warning, Eric said. He drank some beer from the Dough Mahoney glass. I'll shoot you, Olivia said. No, don't. I wanna die from a brain aneurysm."
4.0
"I watched the greatest minds of my generation do whip-its in a Big Lots parking lot. In all seriousness though, the alternatives to not being bohemians seem stupid."
College Novel is one real bleak, entirely crushing, absolutely nihilistic mindfuck of a book. It's both at once something really very ordinary and something very unique and special. There's really no words to describe what experiencing this book is like - It's kind of like hurtling through a nightmarish version of your own life, it's also kind of like being forced to watch the decay of a loved one, or watching roadkill rot at the side of a freeway, it's gross and makes you feel extremely sad and empty but, there's something shocking and brilliant about it too. There's a real artfulness to this, a surrealistic quality that somehow makes the mundane seem riveting.
It's an entirely low stakes novel, but, it's a low stakes novel of drug fueled regret. It's all very sad, and completely depressing, College Novel offers little to smile about. Despite there being next to nothing that actually happens, it's all so harrowing and horrific that it transforms monotony into something wonderful. This will be a piece of literature talked about till time ends. It's also so very nostalgic, conjuring images of the days of crappy house parties and shitty friendship groups. College Novel has a rare authenticity about it, so difficult is it to find a book that really captures this specific feeling. And, that's because it's damn near impossible to ascertain what this feeling even is. Is it melancholy, depression, nihilistic ideation? Whatever it is, College Novel nails it.
College Novel is one real bleak, entirely crushing, absolutely nihilistic mindfuck of a book. It's both at once something really very ordinary and something very unique and special. There's really no words to describe what experiencing this book is like - It's kind of like hurtling through a nightmarish version of your own life, it's also kind of like being forced to watch the decay of a loved one, or watching roadkill rot at the side of a freeway, it's gross and makes you feel extremely sad and empty but, there's something shocking and brilliant about it too. There's a real artfulness to this, a surrealistic quality that somehow makes the mundane seem riveting.
It's an entirely low stakes novel, but, it's a low stakes novel of drug fueled regret. It's all very sad, and completely depressing, College Novel offers little to smile about. Despite there being next to nothing that actually happens, it's all so harrowing and horrific that it transforms monotony into something wonderful. This will be a piece of literature talked about till time ends. It's also so very nostalgic, conjuring images of the days of crappy house parties and shitty friendship groups. College Novel has a rare authenticity about it, so difficult is it to find a book that really captures this specific feeling. And, that's because it's damn near impossible to ascertain what this feeling even is. Is it melancholy, depression, nihilistic ideation? Whatever it is, College Novel nails it.
"Eric said he thought about driving into a tree while listening to emo music on the drive over. They sat and talked. They shared drug stories. Robert talked about snorting hydrocodone when he was in high school. Jordan said he accidentally took one of his dachshund's hydrocodones in the eighth grade instead of taking one of his grandma's hydrocodones. Aubrey said she took three gravity bong hits of spice in high school and got naked in the shower and thought about her parents finding her dead. "
College Novel is just so god-damn real. It's so amazingly raw and authentic and brutal. It's depressing as all hell. Blake Middleton has created a cataclysmic event of a novel, one that'll fool you with how safe and comforting it all feels, and then, when you're at your most vulnerable, it'll eviscerate you by peeling away the shiny, perfect coating of modern life to expose its rotting innards. It's essentially, at its core, a book about a bunch of kids who decided that drugs were the only worthwhile part of the college lives. It's built entirely around being a novel of dialogue, and it's one of the better offerings in this style. It's a total mind-warp, even now, I'm not quite sure what to say about this book, other than, I loved it.
"I wanna get shot in the back of the head with no warning, Eric said. He drank some beer from the Dough Mahoney glass. I'll shoot you, Olivia said. No, don't. I wanna die from a brain aneurysm."
The Summer I Died by Ryan C. Thomas
This is more than just a book that you experience, it's far more than just something you read. The Summer I Died is a thing you endure, it's a thing you survive. A lot like being strapped to the hood of a car that's heading right into oncoming traffic, it's the most unimaginable, horrific nightmare. The real brutality of this novel is that, nothing is explained, these atrocities just happen, there's no reason for them to happen, and everything is so very unfair, but the ugliness of it all just keeps coming. It's page after page after page of torture, it's disgusting and horrible and honestly at times, very difficult to sit through. But, underneath it all, there's a heart-shattering tale of friendship and survival.
"The damn dog wasn't helping my nerves either, and when a moment later I heard the first rumble of thunder in the distance, I knew this was going to be a stressful night. If I'd only known what was going to happen next, I would have taken the gun from Tooth and put bullets in both our brains."
3.0
"He didn't respond, just hung there with his eyes closed, his feet dragging through his own feces. He looked like a monster, an unrecognizable mass of contusions. The razor wire had done its job and I imagined you could flip his head open and use his skull as a bowl."
There is no other way to describe The Summer I Died other than to say that it's unholy. Absolutely savage. Brutal beyond all belief. This is the kind of book that makes scrubbing your eyes with bleach feel like a good idea, it's the kind of book that makes you feel as if you require a lobotomy. It's gross, it's grim, it's heart-breaking and utterly exhausting to sit through. Reading The Summer I Died will make you consider flinging the book through a window, or roasting it on a bonfire. It's a beastly thing, a disgusting monster - but it's also a fucking glorious piece of splatterpunk literature. The only single downside to this novel is that, at times, it does feel like it's trying just a little too hard. It is, however, an absolute rollercoaster of a read.
The Summer I Died sits on the very extreme edge of extreme horror. It teeters so precariously on the edge of gratuitous. It is, however, when it comes to it, a wonderfully compelling story. For the first 60 or so pages, a false sense of security exists, everything is a little slow, a little, relaxed. But, once things get going, it becomes an absolutely harrowing, gnarly, unhinged plunge into the depths of Hell. What makes this novel work so well, is that despite what a revolting, sickening little thing it is, you can't help but care for the characters, you can't help but adore them, root for them, and need for them to survive. From the first page, it's obvious how things are going to end, yet, the hope never quite leaves you. That's the beauty of this entirely horrific reading experience.
There is no other way to describe The Summer I Died other than to say that it's unholy. Absolutely savage. Brutal beyond all belief. This is the kind of book that makes scrubbing your eyes with bleach feel like a good idea, it's the kind of book that makes you feel as if you require a lobotomy. It's gross, it's grim, it's heart-breaking and utterly exhausting to sit through. Reading The Summer I Died will make you consider flinging the book through a window, or roasting it on a bonfire. It's a beastly thing, a disgusting monster - but it's also a fucking glorious piece of splatterpunk literature. The only single downside to this novel is that, at times, it does feel like it's trying just a little too hard. It is, however, an absolute rollercoaster of a read.
The Summer I Died sits on the very extreme edge of extreme horror. It teeters so precariously on the edge of gratuitous. It is, however, when it comes to it, a wonderfully compelling story. For the first 60 or so pages, a false sense of security exists, everything is a little slow, a little, relaxed. But, once things get going, it becomes an absolutely harrowing, gnarly, unhinged plunge into the depths of Hell. What makes this novel work so well, is that despite what a revolting, sickening little thing it is, you can't help but care for the characters, you can't help but adore them, root for them, and need for them to survive. From the first page, it's obvious how things are going to end, yet, the hope never quite leaves you. That's the beauty of this entirely horrific reading experience.
"I stood up, sobbing like a girl. I should have let him shoot me, should have taken it fast and clean. But it's not that easy. You don't just concede defeat in these circumstances. You take every second you can find and use it to pray for another few seconds. Hope is a cruel bitch."
This is more than just a book that you experience, it's far more than just something you read. The Summer I Died is a thing you endure, it's a thing you survive. A lot like being strapped to the hood of a car that's heading right into oncoming traffic, it's the most unimaginable, horrific nightmare. The real brutality of this novel is that, nothing is explained, these atrocities just happen, there's no reason for them to happen, and everything is so very unfair, but the ugliness of it all just keeps coming. It's page after page after page of torture, it's disgusting and horrible and honestly at times, very difficult to sit through. But, underneath it all, there's a heart-shattering tale of friendship and survival.
"The damn dog wasn't helping my nerves either, and when a moment later I heard the first rumble of thunder in the distance, I knew this was going to be a stressful night. If I'd only known what was going to happen next, I would have taken the gun from Tooth and put bullets in both our brains."
The Eyes Are the Best Part by Monika Kim
What begins life as a family drama, what wears the face of a simplistic character study, unravels, slowly unfurling, becoming a kaleidoscopic nightmare of madness - a story that demands your full attention, a story that takes its time and refuses entirely to be rushed. The level of gracefulness and beauty within this debut novel is insane, there's such an intensity to the imagery that this novel displays, it's something that takes a grip of your soul and tears little pieces from it until there is nothing left. Yes, The Eyes Are the Best Part is strange. Honestly? It's fucking weird, it's messed up, but it's also god-damn fantastic and brilliant. It is a novel that refuses to be ignored and will never be forgotten. If you're seeking the most uncomfortable nightmare of your life, you've come to the right place.
"I don't hesitate. I pluck one eye after the other, shoving them greedily into my mouth. I mash them into a pulp, teeth gnashing, feeling each clump slide down my throat. I eat until my stomach is full and aching, until the wall is bare. The room grows bigger, hallways extending. I scramble to my feet and start walking, straining my ears. This place is familiar."
4.0
"A shrill buzz. Just as I'm trying to find the source of the noise, the light flickers on. I blink into the brightness. When my vision adjusts, I scream. Eyes. There are eyes everywhere."
Oh my God. Oh, Jesus. Ew, ew, ew. The Eyes Are the Best part is a book so disgusting, so vile, so grotesque and horrendous, it made even someone well experienced in reading extreme horror, gag. Despite the sickening, slimy, grime slicked top coating this book has, there's a wonderful and insightful commentary hidden away at it's glistening, beautiful core - you just have to be brave enough to submerge yourself in a swirling whirlwind of eyeballs to find it. This is the single defining book of unhinged girlie summer, it's the ideal revenge story. Like plenty of books within this genre, there's a heavy character focus here, and it starts out slow, building over time until it bubbles over uncontrollably.
The Eyes Are the Best Part is a ferocious, snarling beast of a novel. This is what female rage looks like in print form. It's an obsessive, hideous novel, one that will forever change the way you think about the human body. This shocking, powerful thrill-ride is packed to the brim with guts, gore, and of course, eyeballs. It's a surrealist masterpiece, the vividity with which it is told is both gorgeous and horrible. Almost the entire first half acts as a rather candid character study, one that delves slowly over time into madness. This macabre little novel packs as much of an emotional punch as it does fill us up on disgusting imagery. It's entirely enrapturing and foul and nasty, but in just the perfect way, the horror is delightful, stomach-churning and impactful without once being overwrought or gratuitous.
Oh my God. Oh, Jesus. Ew, ew, ew. The Eyes Are the Best part is a book so disgusting, so vile, so grotesque and horrendous, it made even someone well experienced in reading extreme horror, gag. Despite the sickening, slimy, grime slicked top coating this book has, there's a wonderful and insightful commentary hidden away at it's glistening, beautiful core - you just have to be brave enough to submerge yourself in a swirling whirlwind of eyeballs to find it. This is the single defining book of unhinged girlie summer, it's the ideal revenge story. Like plenty of books within this genre, there's a heavy character focus here, and it starts out slow, building over time until it bubbles over uncontrollably.
The Eyes Are the Best Part is a ferocious, snarling beast of a novel. This is what female rage looks like in print form. It's an obsessive, hideous novel, one that will forever change the way you think about the human body. This shocking, powerful thrill-ride is packed to the brim with guts, gore, and of course, eyeballs. It's a surrealist masterpiece, the vividity with which it is told is both gorgeous and horrible. Almost the entire first half acts as a rather candid character study, one that delves slowly over time into madness. This macabre little novel packs as much of an emotional punch as it does fill us up on disgusting imagery. It's entirely enrapturing and foul and nasty, but in just the perfect way, the horror is delightful, stomach-churning and impactful without once being overwrought or gratuitous.
"I bite into the cartilage. It splits open in my mouth, the blood shooting down the back of my throat. I'm whimpering like a dog, but I can't help it. The combination of adrenaline and the taste - oh god, the taste - sends waves of pleasure radiating through my body. I am in ecstasy. I choke down the first one, chewing noisily, before shoving the second into my mouth. I suck the blood and fluids and juices out of it, feeling it deflate in my mouth."
What begins life as a family drama, what wears the face of a simplistic character study, unravels, slowly unfurling, becoming a kaleidoscopic nightmare of madness - a story that demands your full attention, a story that takes its time and refuses entirely to be rushed. The level of gracefulness and beauty within this debut novel is insane, there's such an intensity to the imagery that this novel displays, it's something that takes a grip of your soul and tears little pieces from it until there is nothing left. Yes, The Eyes Are the Best Part is strange. Honestly? It's fucking weird, it's messed up, but it's also god-damn fantastic and brilliant. It is a novel that refuses to be ignored and will never be forgotten. If you're seeking the most uncomfortable nightmare of your life, you've come to the right place.
"I don't hesitate. I pluck one eye after the other, shoving them greedily into my mouth. I mash them into a pulp, teeth gnashing, feeling each clump slide down my throat. I eat until my stomach is full and aching, until the wall is bare. The room grows bigger, hallways extending. I scramble to my feet and start walking, straining my ears. This place is familiar."
Violent Faculties by Charlene Elsby
There's a real deeply personal, extremely horrific quality to this novel, it's a cynical and punishing experience but, one that's ever so rewarding providing you see it through. It, always, at all times, makes your brain feel like it's being dissolved in a vat of acid. Absolutely, without a single shred of a doubt, worth the read. All too vivid and utterly awful, Violent Faculties is a sickening yet deeply thoughtful text. It won't be for everyone, in fact, it's likely to divide opinion, but it will absolutely tick every single box for those who enjoy unhinged, deep, extremely angry works of literature. It's absolutely spectacular and horrible, it's what extreme horror always should have been, less focus on shock factor, and more focus on meaningful brutality.
"My bullet forged a path from one set of Ally's lips to the other, my divine light to shine through. The blood at each end of it tasted the same. And in the morning, when the other nuns came, they'd see that Ally had done her part to make me see the sin of it all. But I am animal become God. The condemnation of humanity."
4.0
"It doesn't take an experiment to show that you can't take someone's humanity away from them. It's a bad faith concept all around. That's the sickening part of it. People only do it to other people. Doing it to other people is what makes it fun. The only real dehumanization is death."
Violent Faculties is a brutal, violent, stunner of a novel. It's at once both hilarious yet disturbing and entirely gross as all hell. See, this is extreme horror with substance, it never fully tips itself off the edge into gratuitous shock factor nastiness, but it balances on that edge all the same. It's a cruel and gruesome little thing, a novel that's entirely difficult to recommend, not because it isn't good, because, it's fantastic, it's riveting and brilliant - but because it's almost impossible to find Violent Faculties' intended audience, because it's so damn intense and strange. It's a brutal, perverse, sickening novel, the word horrific doesn't even begin to describe its vile and ugly nature.
How does one even begin to recommend a book such as this? It's an enrapturing and enigmatic thing despite the strangeness in its writing style. It feels oddly enough, like interlaced stories that connect to make up something bigger - a challenging and complex experience, an unflinching tale that reads like the PhD thesis of someone driven to the brink of insanity. This is extreme horror at it's finest, how it was intended to be, mind-bending and absorbing, an absolute force to be reckoned with, a high rising tide intent on sweeping away everything in its path. Violent Faculties is horrific and uncomfortable, but that's what makes it so enthralling and addictive.
Violent Faculties is a brutal, violent, stunner of a novel. It's at once both hilarious yet disturbing and entirely gross as all hell. See, this is extreme horror with substance, it never fully tips itself off the edge into gratuitous shock factor nastiness, but it balances on that edge all the same. It's a cruel and gruesome little thing, a novel that's entirely difficult to recommend, not because it isn't good, because, it's fantastic, it's riveting and brilliant - but because it's almost impossible to find Violent Faculties' intended audience, because it's so damn intense and strange. It's a brutal, perverse, sickening novel, the word horrific doesn't even begin to describe its vile and ugly nature.
How does one even begin to recommend a book such as this? It's an enrapturing and enigmatic thing despite the strangeness in its writing style. It feels oddly enough, like interlaced stories that connect to make up something bigger - a challenging and complex experience, an unflinching tale that reads like the PhD thesis of someone driven to the brink of insanity. This is extreme horror at it's finest, how it was intended to be, mind-bending and absorbing, an absolute force to be reckoned with, a high rising tide intent on sweeping away everything in its path. Violent Faculties is horrific and uncomfortable, but that's what makes it so enthralling and addictive.
"I realized something about myself that must also be true of others - the protrusion of teeth from the face is unnerving, but something we have become used to by exposure. However, as I removed Gillian's teeth and all that was visible of her became flesh and not skeleton, her physical form achieved a sort of serenity. The face was no longer confused as to which parts were inside and which were outside"
There's a real deeply personal, extremely horrific quality to this novel, it's a cynical and punishing experience but, one that's ever so rewarding providing you see it through. It, always, at all times, makes your brain feel like it's being dissolved in a vat of acid. Absolutely, without a single shred of a doubt, worth the read. All too vivid and utterly awful, Violent Faculties is a sickening yet deeply thoughtful text. It won't be for everyone, in fact, it's likely to divide opinion, but it will absolutely tick every single box for those who enjoy unhinged, deep, extremely angry works of literature. It's absolutely spectacular and horrible, it's what extreme horror always should have been, less focus on shock factor, and more focus on meaningful brutality.
"My bullet forged a path from one set of Ally's lips to the other, my divine light to shine through. The blood at each end of it tasted the same. And in the morning, when the other nuns came, they'd see that Ally had done her part to make me see the sin of it all. But I am animal become God. The condemnation of humanity."