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Amygdalatropolis by Edia Connole, B.R. Yeager
Despite the slimness of this novel, it's something entirely too disturbing and unflinching. It truly is something to sink your teeth into, it's absolutely and utterly grotesque, and delights in trampling over any boundary that dare exist. There's this thick, almost cloying fog of unease that lingers around this foul little novella, it is an utterly merciless thing, taking pleasure in its own cruelty. Not once does Amygdalatropolis shy away from the disgusting details of its abuse. But, underneath all the grime and filth, there lies a story of a mother who is simply desperate to understand her child - a child that has sunken far too deep, who has been lost to her forever in a sea of hatred. It's entirely gratuitous, but there's a beauty here in a sinister, snarling sort of way, all teeth and drool and flaying flesh. And, that ending? Man, that ending, that's why people read.
"Sort of. Let a girl commit suicide when I could have stopped her. She was gonna do it eventually anyway why not then and there."
4.0
"Thin bony fingers clenched in his chest. He was so scared of what she wanted to say to him - that she had discovered his true being: that all he hid had been uncovered. That his mother had somehow found a mouth into his world and learned what he was. Not a boy anymore, or even a person."
Nihilist defeat, the novel - perhaps the most horrific, bleak, and terrifying kind of book to exist, the sort of novel that can only worsen the pulsing existential crisis within it's readers, the sort of novel that can only deepen the pitch black well of despair inside us, the sort of novel that plunges us headfirst into nihilistic bliss, that's Amygdalatropolis. Amygdalatropolis is many things, it is one of the most authentic accounts of "-Chan" culture printed, it's a desperately bleak and sad little book, a story about the corruption of the soul, it's about the utter horror that is existence and it's about the brutality of the internet. There shall never exist, a better, more accurate novel about internet forums in the history of literature. The only honest way to describe this book, the only way to talk about it, is to say that it's a multi-car pile up, a horrific accident with many fatalities. It's a biblical event.
Few books out there ever manage to elicit the type of emotional devastation that this one does, few books manage to capture the despair, the utter gruesomeness of isolation. It's a novel of dark web vileness, torture, sexual depravity, and parental desperation. Amygdalatropolis strips away the real world until there's nothing left of it but rot and decay, without a doubt, it is a highly experimental thing, told in a hauntingly unconventional style - but why should literature adhere to conventionality, right? Is it not better ignored entirely? Amygdalatropolis shows us this is so. Ushering in the future of horror, B.R. Yeager is a visionary, he lays bare the human condition with a sickening clarity. Amygdalatropolis is a hypnotic, affecting and all too riveting read. As bleak and ruinous as it is, it's simply impossible to look away from the gruesomeness of it all.
Nihilist defeat, the novel - perhaps the most horrific, bleak, and terrifying kind of book to exist, the sort of novel that can only worsen the pulsing existential crisis within it's readers, the sort of novel that can only deepen the pitch black well of despair inside us, the sort of novel that plunges us headfirst into nihilistic bliss, that's Amygdalatropolis. Amygdalatropolis is many things, it is one of the most authentic accounts of "-Chan" culture printed, it's a desperately bleak and sad little book, a story about the corruption of the soul, it's about the utter horror that is existence and it's about the brutality of the internet. There shall never exist, a better, more accurate novel about internet forums in the history of literature. The only honest way to describe this book, the only way to talk about it, is to say that it's a multi-car pile up, a horrific accident with many fatalities. It's a biblical event.
Few books out there ever manage to elicit the type of emotional devastation that this one does, few books manage to capture the despair, the utter gruesomeness of isolation. It's a novel of dark web vileness, torture, sexual depravity, and parental desperation. Amygdalatropolis strips away the real world until there's nothing left of it but rot and decay, without a doubt, it is a highly experimental thing, told in a hauntingly unconventional style - but why should literature adhere to conventionality, right? Is it not better ignored entirely? Amygdalatropolis shows us this is so. Ushering in the future of horror, B.R. Yeager is a visionary, he lays bare the human condition with a sickening clarity. Amygdalatropolis is a hypnotic, affecting and all too riveting read. As bleak and ruinous as it is, it's simply impossible to look away from the gruesomeness of it all.
"He could ask her. He could let her know it was okay. He could find a way to force the capsules down her throat, in such a way that everything could go back to normal the next day until forever.
Despite the slimness of this novel, it's something entirely too disturbing and unflinching. It truly is something to sink your teeth into, it's absolutely and utterly grotesque, and delights in trampling over any boundary that dare exist. There's this thick, almost cloying fog of unease that lingers around this foul little novella, it is an utterly merciless thing, taking pleasure in its own cruelty. Not once does Amygdalatropolis shy away from the disgusting details of its abuse. But, underneath all the grime and filth, there lies a story of a mother who is simply desperate to understand her child - a child that has sunken far too deep, who has been lost to her forever in a sea of hatred. It's entirely gratuitous, but there's a beauty here in a sinister, snarling sort of way, all teeth and drool and flaying flesh. And, that ending? Man, that ending, that's why people read.
"Sort of. Let a girl commit suicide when I could have stopped her. She was gonna do it eventually anyway why not then and there."
Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle
This is a true horror readers' novel - it's almost, a love letter to the genre. Despite the strong social commentary, Chuck Tingle delivers the scares and shows off everything that's so brilliant about the genre. The sheer quality of this novel is an absolute delight, this is the new age of Queer Horror. Bury Your Gays is simply one of those novels that deserves to be read, it deserves to be experienced. While it is an entertaining read it also feels like a deeply personal sort of novel, at times, feeling almost self reflective. It's a book that does, and delivers a lot, it's a deeply moving, incredible, absolutely brilliant piece of horror literature.
"The most unusual thing about The Smoker, however, are his eyes. He has no eyebrows, nor eyelids, and therefore his expression is hauntingly difficult to read. He can't blink - because there's nothing to blink with - and his gaze feels like it cuts right through you, directly into your soul. "
4.0
"It's fitting, really. Los Angeles is a beautiful place, and for the lucky few who can make it work here that splendor can last. But most of the hopefuls who leap from their Greyhound buses with fresh-faced excitement are not as fortunate. When the cold black waves of disappointment come crashing over them, the beauty fades quick."
Bury Your Gays is a trope based book which leans, funnily enough, into examining the "Bury your gays" trope. On the surface of it, it sounds like it would be a rather bleak and grim book, but, in reality, it's a whole barrel of fun. Chuck Tingle who is known for his less than serious books, delivers something striking, masterful and full of heart with this novel. As a piece of horror literature, Bury Your Gays is fantastic - it refuses to shy away from its scares, but it's also able to be so much more than that. It shines an intense light on queer representation in media, examines corporate greed and the race for ratings, and even delves into discussions of AI ethics, all without ever overshadowing the horror part of the novel.
Everything in this novel is so perfectly blended together, which results in a thought-provoking, smart yet intensely creepy and actually scary story. Not only is Bury Your Gays an absolute blast, soaked in a glorious, neon glow L.A. ambiance, it's also a heartfelt and soul shattering story of queer erasure. Chuck Tingle is, clearly, a seriously talented writer. The horror of the entire thing is absolutely brutal, at times grotesque and always frightening. It's just such an immersive and entertaining thrill-ride, and makes for an ultra engaging read. What a wild juxtaposition it is, to be thrust amongst heart-racing moments of terror, murder and plenty of gore, while also being forced to reckon with the cutthroat nature of online media.
Bury Your Gays is a trope based book which leans, funnily enough, into examining the "Bury your gays" trope. On the surface of it, it sounds like it would be a rather bleak and grim book, but, in reality, it's a whole barrel of fun. Chuck Tingle who is known for his less than serious books, delivers something striking, masterful and full of heart with this novel. As a piece of horror literature, Bury Your Gays is fantastic - it refuses to shy away from its scares, but it's also able to be so much more than that. It shines an intense light on queer representation in media, examines corporate greed and the race for ratings, and even delves into discussions of AI ethics, all without ever overshadowing the horror part of the novel.
Everything in this novel is so perfectly blended together, which results in a thought-provoking, smart yet intensely creepy and actually scary story. Not only is Bury Your Gays an absolute blast, soaked in a glorious, neon glow L.A. ambiance, it's also a heartfelt and soul shattering story of queer erasure. Chuck Tingle is, clearly, a seriously talented writer. The horror of the entire thing is absolutely brutal, at times grotesque and always frightening. It's just such an immersive and entertaining thrill-ride, and makes for an ultra engaging read. What a wild juxtaposition it is, to be thrust amongst heart-racing moments of terror, murder and plenty of gore, while also being forced to reckon with the cutthroat nature of online media.
"Raymond's body was obliterated by the falling piano, but in the blended pulp of his meat, fat, and bones a few notable pieces remained. The man's lower jaw was right there sitting in the mess, tongue still attached but torn awkwardly to the side like some silly cartoon expression. His forearm and hand were visible, too, highlighted in the sea of red by some strange yellowish liquid that slowly pooled across the pavement."
This is a true horror readers' novel - it's almost, a love letter to the genre. Despite the strong social commentary, Chuck Tingle delivers the scares and shows off everything that's so brilliant about the genre. The sheer quality of this novel is an absolute delight, this is the new age of Queer Horror. Bury Your Gays is simply one of those novels that deserves to be read, it deserves to be experienced. While it is an entertaining read it also feels like a deeply personal sort of novel, at times, feeling almost self reflective. It's a book that does, and delivers a lot, it's a deeply moving, incredible, absolutely brilliant piece of horror literature.
"The most unusual thing about The Smoker, however, are his eyes. He has no eyebrows, nor eyelids, and therefore his expression is hauntingly difficult to read. He can't blink - because there's nothing to blink with - and his gaze feels like it cuts right through you, directly into your soul. "
The Devil Thinks I'm Pretty by Charlene Elsby
There's a ton of violence to this story but, instead of relying upon the gratuitous and shocking to deliver a fantastic experience, The Devil Thinks I'm Pretty is so very nuanced and complex, there's almost a gorgeousness to the way the violence is handled. As a novel it's as enthralling and barbaric as it is surreal and erotic, it even leans into an almost Bataillean edge. A deep, dark pit of existential dread consumes the pages of this novel as it bridges the gap between grit-lit and horror with philosophical musings. If trailer park horror isn't already a genre, it should be, and this should be the genre defining book - it's a pure work of art, it's absolutely fucking unnerving, it's the kind of book that will leave you reeling for breath, it's the kind of book that will linger in your mind for months after it's over.
"I thought of how if someone died, I would miss them, even if I'd killed them. How it's possible to now lament what hasn't yet been destroyed, because it will be destroyed and I will have a hand in it. Change is inevitable. Becoming rules being. And I am the source of its movement."
4.0
"She always said that she would use a gun if she did it, but she lied. She was too concerned about staying pretty. What men thought. If I told her what she looked like dead, she would have been so embarrassed."
This is a highly experimental horror novel, that leans fully into being a novel of vagueness and subtlety. Reading The Devil Thinks I'm Pretty is like watching the precession of the dead, you simply cannot peel your eyes away from such a horrific sight. It's a really rather difficult novel to review, because, what even is this book? Is it a hyper messed up coming of age story? Is it the end of the world, is it possession? Is the devil of these pages real or purely metaphorical? For all of these questions we're fed nothing more than a tiny trail of breadcrumbs. Regardless of the conclusion you arrive at, one thing is clear, this novel is entirely without mercy. It's brutal, unforgiving and soaked in pure cruelty.
There's a captivating yet extremely depressing bleakness that shades this entire thing, it's absolutely gutting, it's completely and utterly obliterating and is one of the most harrowing reading experiences you'll ever get. The Devil Thinks I'm Pretty is a highly intoxicating read, there's just something about it that makes it impossible to stop. It's almost beautiful, how feral and ghoulish of a novel this is. The whole thing is entirely ambiguous, even as the book propels us towards its sickening conclusion, we're left in the dark. The only honest way to describe this novel is to say that it's an acid trip and a fever dream in a trailer park of a rotting town, everything is all so intense and grotesque and completely awful.
This is a highly experimental horror novel, that leans fully into being a novel of vagueness and subtlety. Reading The Devil Thinks I'm Pretty is like watching the precession of the dead, you simply cannot peel your eyes away from such a horrific sight. It's a really rather difficult novel to review, because, what even is this book? Is it a hyper messed up coming of age story? Is it the end of the world, is it possession? Is the devil of these pages real or purely metaphorical? For all of these questions we're fed nothing more than a tiny trail of breadcrumbs. Regardless of the conclusion you arrive at, one thing is clear, this novel is entirely without mercy. It's brutal, unforgiving and soaked in pure cruelty.
There's a captivating yet extremely depressing bleakness that shades this entire thing, it's absolutely gutting, it's completely and utterly obliterating and is one of the most harrowing reading experiences you'll ever get. The Devil Thinks I'm Pretty is a highly intoxicating read, there's just something about it that makes it impossible to stop. It's almost beautiful, how feral and ghoulish of a novel this is. The whole thing is entirely ambiguous, even as the book propels us towards its sickening conclusion, we're left in the dark. The only honest way to describe this novel is to say that it's an acid trip and a fever dream in a trailer park of a rotting town, everything is all so intense and grotesque and completely awful.
"You think that if you're in with the devil, you'd get something out of it, like money and a nice place to live, people to like you even if they don't like you. So then I look around my trailer and think that if the devil were in me, I'd be better off than I was."
There's a ton of violence to this story but, instead of relying upon the gratuitous and shocking to deliver a fantastic experience, The Devil Thinks I'm Pretty is so very nuanced and complex, there's almost a gorgeousness to the way the violence is handled. As a novel it's as enthralling and barbaric as it is surreal and erotic, it even leans into an almost Bataillean edge. A deep, dark pit of existential dread consumes the pages of this novel as it bridges the gap between grit-lit and horror with philosophical musings. If trailer park horror isn't already a genre, it should be, and this should be the genre defining book - it's a pure work of art, it's absolutely fucking unnerving, it's the kind of book that will leave you reeling for breath, it's the kind of book that will linger in your mind for months after it's over.
"I thought of how if someone died, I would miss them, even if I'd killed them. How it's possible to now lament what hasn't yet been destroyed, because it will be destroyed and I will have a hand in it. Change is inevitable. Becoming rules being. And I am the source of its movement."
We Used to Live Here by Marcus Kliewer
We Used to Live Here is a strange novel, a whirlwind of a horror story, far from your typical tale of haunted houses or strangers turning up in the night. There's a very certain disjointed, disconnected feeling to the entire thing, which, makes a lot more sense once you realize it's a book that began life as a series on Reddit. The fragmented nature of the novel seems only to heighten the unsettling feeling it delivers, and the shifting narratives only add to the dreamlike ambience of it all. It's a truly solid horror story, scary, intense and unnerving, you just have to be prepared to be beguiled and maybe even a little confused. Nothing is going to be fully explained, and that's really very okay.
"A pitch black void. Once they're in, they never leave... The phrase repeats in her head, flitting with the singsong rhythm of a deranged limerick. Once they're in, they never leave... A pale blue light forms in the distance. Once they're in, they never- "
3.5
"You have to hide... You have to hide...You have to- she awakes in a room no bigger than a walk-in closet. Beige walls. Rickety bed. A window that overlooks a murky pond. She's been here for months now, maybe years, she doesn't know anymore, she stopped counting when the snow stopped falling in March, or maybe February. She wonders- "
We Used to Live Here is an intensely horrifying, confined, closed space, cloying, suffocating horror novel that imprints upon us the most claustrophobic and oppressive of feelings. Going into this novel blind is absolutely the way to go, there's some seriously fun and fantastical elements that make up this story that are so very easily spoiled. It's something that you really have to discover for yourself. As a story, it's full of unanswered questions and vagueness - nothing will be easily answered and in fact, you'll likely leave with more questions than you had going into it, it's an absolutely mindfuck. But, it works, for this particular story, having everything wrapped up in a neat little bow would only detract from it, the weird, off-kilter air that shimmers around this novel is what makes it.
Marcus Kliewer prays upon our most basic of fears and insecurities to create a story that's entirely monstrous and horrific - our own memories failing us. Despite the lack of any actual answers, and despite how many times this book forces you to pause and question "What if...?" it's a journey that's so worth taking. We Used to Live Here succeeds in a place where many horror novels fail, it manages to actually be scary, it manages to deliver some seriously creepy scenes. Each and every page is absolutely soaked in layers of dread, from the very beginning, it's clear that something is very, very wrong, and from that very first page, this novel never once lets up. There's an eerie, sinister feel that just oozes off this thing, it makes you feel entirely trapped and isolated.
We Used to Live Here is an intensely horrifying, confined, closed space, cloying, suffocating horror novel that imprints upon us the most claustrophobic and oppressive of feelings. Going into this novel blind is absolutely the way to go, there's some seriously fun and fantastical elements that make up this story that are so very easily spoiled. It's something that you really have to discover for yourself. As a story, it's full of unanswered questions and vagueness - nothing will be easily answered and in fact, you'll likely leave with more questions than you had going into it, it's an absolutely mindfuck. But, it works, for this particular story, having everything wrapped up in a neat little bow would only detract from it, the weird, off-kilter air that shimmers around this novel is what makes it.
Marcus Kliewer prays upon our most basic of fears and insecurities to create a story that's entirely monstrous and horrific - our own memories failing us. Despite the lack of any actual answers, and despite how many times this book forces you to pause and question "What if...?" it's a journey that's so worth taking. We Used to Live Here succeeds in a place where many horror novels fail, it manages to actually be scary, it manages to deliver some seriously creepy scenes. Each and every page is absolutely soaked in layers of dread, from the very beginning, it's clear that something is very, very wrong, and from that very first page, this novel never once lets up. There's an eerie, sinister feel that just oozes off this thing, it makes you feel entirely trapped and isolated.
"Her face - an image that etched itself into Eve's retinas - was exposed by the dancing glow, undulating shadows bleeding upward. Her skin was pulled tight, every contour of her skull harshly pronounced, as if the bones might burst through in a blood-soaked mess. And her eye sockets were so deep, so emaciated, it looked like her bulging eyes might fall out if she were to lean too far forward. But even in the dim light, even in the brief glimpse - the vivid green of the woman's irises were unmistakable. "
We Used to Live Here is a strange novel, a whirlwind of a horror story, far from your typical tale of haunted houses or strangers turning up in the night. There's a very certain disjointed, disconnected feeling to the entire thing, which, makes a lot more sense once you realize it's a book that began life as a series on Reddit. The fragmented nature of the novel seems only to heighten the unsettling feeling it delivers, and the shifting narratives only add to the dreamlike ambience of it all. It's a truly solid horror story, scary, intense and unnerving, you just have to be prepared to be beguiled and maybe even a little confused. Nothing is going to be fully explained, and that's really very okay.
"A pitch black void. Once they're in, they never leave... The phrase repeats in her head, flitting with the singsong rhythm of a deranged limerick. Once they're in, they never leave... A pale blue light forms in the distance. Once they're in, they never- "
I Was a Teenage Slasher by Stephen Graham Jones
This is a book with soul, it has character, it's just so entirely rich and creative and it's so full of all those perfect late 80s vibes. At times, it borders upon the supernatural, after all, at its heart, this is a slasher, it leans heavily into the tropes of the genre, and you'll have to suspend your disbelief, even the characters themselves acknowledge this. Despite being the soul-shattering tale that it is, there's a lot of 'feel good' here, too. From its blurb, you may be expecting a rather standard memoir of a teenage murderer, but when you crack this book open, you're faced with a tearjerker of a story, a tale of family and friendship in a small town, a tale of love and loss and sacrifice, this is so much more than your regular summer slasher, this really is something breathtaking.
"When the blood splashed out, it wasn't just gloriously red, it was radioactive, at least in my vision. I thought that was a color I didn't have access to anymore, but now that I was seeing it in its most pure form, I understood that it wasn't about rods and cones, or wavelengths, it was about this particular red being the only one worth studying."
4.0
"I saw Death skulking behind the back fence. It was rotting, its head a skull trailing wisps of hair, its face covered with a... With a white mask? No, no, of course: with a popped balloon. From the cemetery. There were always balloons left out there, bobbing from headstones. Death had snagged one of them, ripped a couple of eyeholes and somehow got it to stick to its face. It didn't matter. Death's death, right?"
Oh my god. I don't think there exists a slasher as heart-breaking as this one. I Was a Teenage Slasher is not only the most quintessential of summer horror novels, it's a story that's got some real, raw emotional power to it. It's packed to the brim with every single trope that makes the slasher genre so delightful, and yet, somehow it manages to be so wholly unique that it transmutes into being something unlike any other slasher before it. Told entirely from the viewpoint of the killer himself, this is a truly quirky novel and is, as one would expect from a slasher, a whole barrel of fun. You'll find everything you'd expect, the blood and guts and gore, the satisfying kills, the most perfect of small town summer atmosphere, but you'll also find the most wonderfully heartfelt story.
I Was a Teenage Slasher is written so fantastically, it made me nostalgic for an era I'm not even from. Is it even possible to miss something you never had? That's part of the genius of Stephen Graham Jones. It's such a captivating, fresh, interesting take on the traditional slasher tale, yet still has all the appeal of the genre classics. When an author can make his villain cast a sympathetic portrait, you know that you're reading something truly special. The story of Tolly is just so heartbreaking, so painstakingly brutal and so wonderfully told that it's impossible not to feel for him, even after you realize this essentially makes you a slasher sympathizer. It's a love letter to the slasher genre, a true horror masterpiece, there's something so outstanding about how this story is delivered, it goes so far beyond just another slasher novel.
Oh my god. I don't think there exists a slasher as heart-breaking as this one. I Was a Teenage Slasher is not only the most quintessential of summer horror novels, it's a story that's got some real, raw emotional power to it. It's packed to the brim with every single trope that makes the slasher genre so delightful, and yet, somehow it manages to be so wholly unique that it transmutes into being something unlike any other slasher before it. Told entirely from the viewpoint of the killer himself, this is a truly quirky novel and is, as one would expect from a slasher, a whole barrel of fun. You'll find everything you'd expect, the blood and guts and gore, the satisfying kills, the most perfect of small town summer atmosphere, but you'll also find the most wonderfully heartfelt story.
I Was a Teenage Slasher is written so fantastically, it made me nostalgic for an era I'm not even from. Is it even possible to miss something you never had? That's part of the genius of Stephen Graham Jones. It's such a captivating, fresh, interesting take on the traditional slasher tale, yet still has all the appeal of the genre classics. When an author can make his villain cast a sympathetic portrait, you know that you're reading something truly special. The story of Tolly is just so heartbreaking, so painstakingly brutal and so wonderfully told that it's impossible not to feel for him, even after you realize this essentially makes you a slasher sympathizer. It's a love letter to the slasher genre, a true horror masterpiece, there's something so outstanding about how this story is delivered, it goes so far beyond just another slasher novel.
"Can I explain how intense and wonderful and fast and slow and beautiful and forever it is to have your actual final girl right there within reach? The world blurs away, just falls somewhere else, and she - she's the only thing there is anymore. The only that matters. Your world is her her her."
This is a book with soul, it has character, it's just so entirely rich and creative and it's so full of all those perfect late 80s vibes. At times, it borders upon the supernatural, after all, at its heart, this is a slasher, it leans heavily into the tropes of the genre, and you'll have to suspend your disbelief, even the characters themselves acknowledge this. Despite being the soul-shattering tale that it is, there's a lot of 'feel good' here, too. From its blurb, you may be expecting a rather standard memoir of a teenage murderer, but when you crack this book open, you're faced with a tearjerker of a story, a tale of family and friendship in a small town, a tale of love and loss and sacrifice, this is so much more than your regular summer slasher, this really is something breathtaking.
"When the blood splashed out, it wasn't just gloriously red, it was radioactive, at least in my vision. I thought that was a color I didn't have access to anymore, but now that I was seeing it in its most pure form, I understood that it wasn't about rods and cones, or wavelengths, it was about this particular red being the only one worth studying."
Supplication by Nour Abi-Nakhoul
Offering up a deeply profound and extremely ugly reflection upon alienation, grief, and the human condition, Supplication is one adventurous and very, very strange horror novel. There is some seriously brilliant storytelling displayed here, Supplication is one of the single most evocative and depressing novels around. Somehow it's both a tale of poignancy and comfort, it's a thing that sits right on the border of nightmare and reality. It defies all convention, refusing to bend and fold to any rules. A highly immersive experience, a novel one can lose themselves within, a delightful, weird, odd, beautiful story that raises more questions than answers - a divisive little thing, Supplication reads like a story penned by the Devil himself.
"As I stared at my dying body tied to the chair something in those life-losing eyes shifted, and they were no longer filled with love but with snarling hate, saliva dripping from the mouth, eyes two black holes that would swallow, that would consume. "
4.0
"The world should have been a void, a non-place where nothing ever happened, which gave shape to nothing. Maybe that is what it was, yet in our desperation, we were made to think it was not so, that the world was something other than a grand delusion."
Supplication is one of the most hallucinatory, vividly fever-dream like, fluid and bizarre of horror novels to exist. As a piece of text it's just rammed full of completely confusing metaphorical, poetic ramblings that make navigating the entire thing insanely difficult but utterly enjoyable. Being gifted the ability to experience Supplication is akin to being dosed on acid, and then being forced to wonder a darkened street at night, alone, only the street, it extends and extends and extends. It goes on forever. That's what reading Supplication is like. A never-ending nightmare. It's truly a novel like no other, and it's all very dreamlike, reminiscent of both obscure older black and white horror games, and the worst drug trip of your entire life. It's an entirely disorienting thing, designed to completely eviscerate readers. It's something so consuming, the only option is to drown in it.
There exist a lot of novels out there, that quite simply make their readers feel foolish. Supplication is one of those novels, it's an unending, rolling stream of consciousness, it's the most brutal of drug trips, it's an entirely too intense, unflinching and savage horror story. Supplication is almost indescribable, it's so damn beautiful and poetic and kaleidoscopic. There's a sadness here, a haunting, surreal and gorgeous sadness, it's one all too painful story of anguish and regret. No matter how vivid of a novel this is, it's something that readers will be forced to stumble through, it's a novel that you must soak up, that you must let devour you. It's an odyssey of a story, it's an event, something so enthralling and enrapturing, you'll be unable to peel your eyes from the page.
Supplication is one of the most hallucinatory, vividly fever-dream like, fluid and bizarre of horror novels to exist. As a piece of text it's just rammed full of completely confusing metaphorical, poetic ramblings that make navigating the entire thing insanely difficult but utterly enjoyable. Being gifted the ability to experience Supplication is akin to being dosed on acid, and then being forced to wonder a darkened street at night, alone, only the street, it extends and extends and extends. It goes on forever. That's what reading Supplication is like. A never-ending nightmare. It's truly a novel like no other, and it's all very dreamlike, reminiscent of both obscure older black and white horror games, and the worst drug trip of your entire life. It's an entirely disorienting thing, designed to completely eviscerate readers. It's something so consuming, the only option is to drown in it.
There exist a lot of novels out there, that quite simply make their readers feel foolish. Supplication is one of those novels, it's an unending, rolling stream of consciousness, it's the most brutal of drug trips, it's an entirely too intense, unflinching and savage horror story. Supplication is almost indescribable, it's so damn beautiful and poetic and kaleidoscopic. There's a sadness here, a haunting, surreal and gorgeous sadness, it's one all too painful story of anguish and regret. No matter how vivid of a novel this is, it's something that readers will be forced to stumble through, it's a novel that you must soak up, that you must let devour you. It's an odyssey of a story, it's an event, something so enthralling and enrapturing, you'll be unable to peel your eyes from the page.
"The hot black rubble of the road was sulphurous and fissured and I could pull it apart with my fingernails, I could turn my hands into spades and dig and dig but never, ever find any bottom to it, never find anything underneath other than more asphalt, endless, noxious and heat-packed all the way down to the core of the earth; and then I would find the core itself was just another impenetrable mass of petrol and waste, that its toxicity was what kept the earth around it belching, vibrating, alive."
Offering up a deeply profound and extremely ugly reflection upon alienation, grief, and the human condition, Supplication is one adventurous and very, very strange horror novel. There is some seriously brilliant storytelling displayed here, Supplication is one of the single most evocative and depressing novels around. Somehow it's both a tale of poignancy and comfort, it's a thing that sits right on the border of nightmare and reality. It defies all convention, refusing to bend and fold to any rules. A highly immersive experience, a novel one can lose themselves within, a delightful, weird, odd, beautiful story that raises more questions than answers - a divisive little thing, Supplication reads like a story penned by the Devil himself.
"As I stared at my dying body tied to the chair something in those life-losing eyes shifted, and they were no longer filled with love but with snarling hate, saliva dripping from the mouth, eyes two black holes that would swallow, that would consume. "
The Pledge by Cale Dietrich
An integral part of the slasher genre is satisfying deaths, and while it may be that the actual gore is light, and the deaths are rather quick, they were still executed in an enjoyable and fun way. In keeping with slasher tradition, this is a very stabby sort of book, it's a fratboy murderparty novel, and it's super, super fun. The Pledge delivers the most perfect of summer horror vibes, and sure, it does border upon the ridiculous, and you'll have to suspend your disbelief a little, but the slasher genre itself heavily relies upon this. It's not the kind of story you need to question, it's designed to entertain, to thrill, it comes with this early slasher, almost 80s sort of feel to it, the kind of novel you can imagine was inspired by Scream.
"The intruder stops and tilts his head to the side. His mask is horrific: shiny hard plastic the color of faded bone, save for the dark slashes of the eyes, and then a huge, curved grin for a mouth. There are no other features, giving the mask a sort of alien, inhuman quality, like a mannequin come to life."
3.0
"His expression doesn't change now that his identity has come into the light. His features are emotionless, totally plain, like he doesn't have his hands around my neck and is trying to squeeze the life out of me. His eyes are dead, totally dull. Unlike his mask, he isn't smiling. There's no humanity there. Just true evil, to his core."
First and foremost, the Pledge is a YA horror/slasher novel. And, I think, it's fair to say that while it does read in a quite typical manner for a YA novel, there's still something so fresh and enjoyable about it. Really, it's a blend of a horror and a thriller novel, although it's a very traditional kind of slasher with a decently high body count, there's little to nothing in the way of blood or gore, in fact, the kills are almost over as quickly as they start. It absolutely lands on the softer side of horror, opting more for heart-racing action than blood drenched kills, perhaps it even lands more within the realm of a murder mystery. The parts of the novel that were slasher focused could have absolutely been fleshed out a little bit more, but this was still a super fun, enjoyable and lightning quick read.
What makes The Pledge so wonderful is that being queer is so normalized within the story, it's not something that requires delicacy and tons of explaining, it just... Happens to be. It's truly a novel that one can fly through, it can be devoured in an entire afternoon, in a single sitting. It's intense without ever being too intense. The Pledge is the sort of book that will keep you on edge, glancing over your shoulder to make sure you're not being followed, but it won't stop you from sleeping at night either. It's all built around a very simple premise, a queer college campus slasher, and it delivers on this, so well.
First and foremost, the Pledge is a YA horror/slasher novel. And, I think, it's fair to say that while it does read in a quite typical manner for a YA novel, there's still something so fresh and enjoyable about it. Really, it's a blend of a horror and a thriller novel, although it's a very traditional kind of slasher with a decently high body count, there's little to nothing in the way of blood or gore, in fact, the kills are almost over as quickly as they start. It absolutely lands on the softer side of horror, opting more for heart-racing action than blood drenched kills, perhaps it even lands more within the realm of a murder mystery. The parts of the novel that were slasher focused could have absolutely been fleshed out a little bit more, but this was still a super fun, enjoyable and lightning quick read.
What makes The Pledge so wonderful is that being queer is so normalized within the story, it's not something that requires delicacy and tons of explaining, it just... Happens to be. It's truly a novel that one can fly through, it can be devoured in an entire afternoon, in a single sitting. It's intense without ever being too intense. The Pledge is the sort of book that will keep you on edge, glancing over your shoulder to make sure you're not being followed, but it won't stop you from sleeping at night either. It's all built around a very simple premise, a queer college campus slasher, and it delivers on this, so well.
"There's a big neon sign at the top, and the entire building is drenched in light, from the green of the wineglass - or maybe it's an ice cream sundae - sticking out the front, to the strips of blue and red running along the walls. We're one of the only two cars in the lot. The road is greasy, slicks of oil reflecting light. "
An integral part of the slasher genre is satisfying deaths, and while it may be that the actual gore is light, and the deaths are rather quick, they were still executed in an enjoyable and fun way. In keeping with slasher tradition, this is a very stabby sort of book, it's a fratboy murderparty novel, and it's super, super fun. The Pledge delivers the most perfect of summer horror vibes, and sure, it does border upon the ridiculous, and you'll have to suspend your disbelief a little, but the slasher genre itself heavily relies upon this. It's not the kind of story you need to question, it's designed to entertain, to thrill, it comes with this early slasher, almost 80s sort of feel to it, the kind of novel you can imagine was inspired by Scream.
"The intruder stops and tilts his head to the side. His mask is horrific: shiny hard plastic the color of faded bone, save for the dark slashes of the eyes, and then a huge, curved grin for a mouth. There are no other features, giving the mask a sort of alien, inhuman quality, like a mannequin come to life."
Howl by Shaun David Hutchinson
It's a dark, deep pit of a novel, a pitch black oil slick on the blacktop, it's a bottomless void, ready to consume readers. Despite it not being the most conventional of werewolf novels, it's still every bit as visceral, as scary, as violent and terrifying as any werewolf story should be. It's just such a deeply memorable and lovable story, there's this perfect small town atmosphere that just adds to its brilliance. Trauma explorations as horror will always be one of my absolute favorite ways of engaging with this genre, and Howl navigates this tricky concept with an amazing level of compassion and depth. Howl is an obsessive downwards spiral of a book, a snarling beast with teeth so intense and inescapable.
"Hot breath soaks my neck; a clawed hand pushes my face deeper into the mud. Bristly, wiry hair brushes the back of my arms. My shoulder burns where its teeth penetrated me, and I feel its poison in my blood. "
4.0
"It looms over me, framed by the night and the stars and moss-choked oak trees. The smell hits me first. Like a decomposing corpse. Sweet in a way that fools my brain for a fraction of a second before I realize it's rotting flesh."
Howl is a werewolf novel, but, not in the traditional way of being a werewolf novel. Howl is, at its heart, as much of a metaphorical novel as it is a creature feature. Yet, it's never overtly obvious about anything, really. In fact, it's all pretty subtle, simmering away against the backdrop of small town drama. There's something so incredibly deep and compelling about this tale, something so hauntingly beautiful about it, an iron-heavy sense of hopelessness crushes each page. The real beast of this thing is the horror of the agonizing heartache, the werewolf may terrorize the town and lurk in the shadows but, really, at its core, it's a profound and powerful novel about trauma, one that's extremely easy to love.
Howl is written and constructed in such a fantastic and lyrical manner. Hutchinson writes so very authentically, so very beautifully and with a level of empathy and elegance so rarely seen about trauma, which actually turns this novel into a grimly dark and distressing read. It's not an easy book to get through, by any means, yet it's so fabulous and so delightful that it's impossible to put down. It's one of those novels that feels so very deeply personal, it feels so real, so human. It may not be the werewolf book you're expecting when you read the blurb but, arguably, it's something so much better. Howl is, by all accounts, a breathtaking, soul-shattering story. It's absolutely harrowing, unflinching and suffocating.
Howl is a werewolf novel, but, not in the traditional way of being a werewolf novel. Howl is, at its heart, as much of a metaphorical novel as it is a creature feature. Yet, it's never overtly obvious about anything, really. In fact, it's all pretty subtle, simmering away against the backdrop of small town drama. There's something so incredibly deep and compelling about this tale, something so hauntingly beautiful about it, an iron-heavy sense of hopelessness crushes each page. The real beast of this thing is the horror of the agonizing heartache, the werewolf may terrorize the town and lurk in the shadows but, really, at its core, it's a profound and powerful novel about trauma, one that's extremely easy to love.
Howl is written and constructed in such a fantastic and lyrical manner. Hutchinson writes so very authentically, so very beautifully and with a level of empathy and elegance so rarely seen about trauma, which actually turns this novel into a grimly dark and distressing read. It's not an easy book to get through, by any means, yet it's so fabulous and so delightful that it's impossible to put down. It's one of those novels that feels so very deeply personal, it feels so real, so human. It may not be the werewolf book you're expecting when you read the blurb but, arguably, it's something so much better. Howl is, by all accounts, a breathtaking, soul-shattering story. It's absolutely harrowing, unflinching and suffocating.
"Jarret's knees pop as the joints reverse, bending backward now. He falls to the ground and cries. A hand bursts from his chest and Luca claws his way free. He's covered in blood and thick gobbets of rotting meat. His face is red, his eyes are red, his smile is white - A whimper escapes my lips as he rakes his claws across my back. As he pushes through my spine and tears out my heart. I think I'll die from the pain, but I don't. I'll live with the hurt forever."
It's a dark, deep pit of a novel, a pitch black oil slick on the blacktop, it's a bottomless void, ready to consume readers. Despite it not being the most conventional of werewolf novels, it's still every bit as visceral, as scary, as violent and terrifying as any werewolf story should be. It's just such a deeply memorable and lovable story, there's this perfect small town atmosphere that just adds to its brilliance. Trauma explorations as horror will always be one of my absolute favorite ways of engaging with this genre, and Howl navigates this tricky concept with an amazing level of compassion and depth. Howl is an obsessive downwards spiral of a book, a snarling beast with teeth so intense and inescapable.
"Hot breath soaks my neck; a clawed hand pushes my face deeper into the mud. Bristly, wiry hair brushes the back of my arms. My shoulder burns where its teeth penetrated me, and I feel its poison in my blood. "
Summer Rental by Rektok Ross
Summer Rental is a good book, but not a great one. This is more of a case of me not being the intended demographic, however. Summer Rental sits on the younger side of YA, and is honestly, better suited for readers who are fans of trope filled fiction. All in all, it's a pretty regular summer slasher, thankfully, summer slashes have never been boring, have they? It's simply pure entertainment, a lightning fast read that you can absolutely devour in a single sitting. At times, it's a little over the top but, really, what's some added drama when everyone is dying anyway? The entire thing is just, dumb, vapid, irritating, toxic rich people getting slashed, with some added bullying for good measure. It's suspenseful, breezy, and extremely easy to read.
"Girls always lie to each other. Little lies, like saying an outfit looks good, even if it doesn't, and big lies, like saying we're happy even when we're really not. None of that is the same as bullying a friend into killing themselves and then covering it up though. That's sociopathic. "
3.0
"You're an Instagram influencer, not an actress." She brings the knife down, caressing the blade against Nia's long swanlike throat. "Honestly, I'm doing you a favor, Nia. You were never gonna be famous. Better to die now, while you still have clout."
Summer Rental is one of those hyper-fast, ultra-fun, extremely easy to fly through in a single sitting summer slashers. Said to be Mean Girls meets Scream, it delivers exactly on what it promises. All too often, the publishing industry creates these pop culture comps to drive hype in marketing, only for the book to fail to deliver, thankfully, in this case, Summer Rental does exactly what it sets out to do. It's the ideal vacation read, the perfect beach thriller, a novel that allows you to switch your brain off while it entertains you. And, providing you don't take it too seriously, it's perfectly fun. You won't find anything groundbreaking here, the writing isn't exactly spectacular, and it's pretty much exactly the usual thing you'd expect of a summer slasher but, it's still enjoyable, it's blisteringly paced fun, and sometimes, that's all a book needs to be.
Intense and gripping from the get-go, Summer Rental, while reading on the younger side of YA, and also being packed full of clichés and tropes, is actually rather delightful. At times, it's really isolated and brings a claustrophobic, cloying, suffocating feel, especially when it becomes more of a locked room thriller. Packed full of mean, extremely toxic, ultra annoying rich people getting slashed up, this is the ideal novel for those sweltering summer nights, where all you want is some gory entertainment. Drenched in atmosphere and tension and despite its clichés, it's difficult not to have a good time with this one.
Summer Rental is one of those hyper-fast, ultra-fun, extremely easy to fly through in a single sitting summer slashers. Said to be Mean Girls meets Scream, it delivers exactly on what it promises. All too often, the publishing industry creates these pop culture comps to drive hype in marketing, only for the book to fail to deliver, thankfully, in this case, Summer Rental does exactly what it sets out to do. It's the ideal vacation read, the perfect beach thriller, a novel that allows you to switch your brain off while it entertains you. And, providing you don't take it too seriously, it's perfectly fun. You won't find anything groundbreaking here, the writing isn't exactly spectacular, and it's pretty much exactly the usual thing you'd expect of a summer slasher but, it's still enjoyable, it's blisteringly paced fun, and sometimes, that's all a book needs to be.
Intense and gripping from the get-go, Summer Rental, while reading on the younger side of YA, and also being packed full of clichés and tropes, is actually rather delightful. At times, it's really isolated and brings a claustrophobic, cloying, suffocating feel, especially when it becomes more of a locked room thriller. Packed full of mean, extremely toxic, ultra annoying rich people getting slashed up, this is the ideal novel for those sweltering summer nights, where all you want is some gory entertainment. Drenched in atmosphere and tension and despite its clichés, it's difficult not to have a good time with this one.
"I've never known anyone our age who died. I don't know how I'd react either. It seems shitty, but maybe it really is just easier for them to not think about Jordyn. Look at Jonathan and his family. They never bounced back from the loss. Jordyn's suicide destroyed them. I guess it's hard to blame my friends for not wanting that to happen to them, too. Perhaps death is just easier to ignore than to deal with."
Summer Rental is a good book, but not a great one. This is more of a case of me not being the intended demographic, however. Summer Rental sits on the younger side of YA, and is honestly, better suited for readers who are fans of trope filled fiction. All in all, it's a pretty regular summer slasher, thankfully, summer slashes have never been boring, have they? It's simply pure entertainment, a lightning fast read that you can absolutely devour in a single sitting. At times, it's a little over the top but, really, what's some added drama when everyone is dying anyway? The entire thing is just, dumb, vapid, irritating, toxic rich people getting slashed, with some added bullying for good measure. It's suspenseful, breezy, and extremely easy to read.
"Girls always lie to each other. Little lies, like saying an outfit looks good, even if it doesn't, and big lies, like saying we're happy even when we're really not. None of that is the same as bullying a friend into killing themselves and then covering it up though. That's sociopathic. "
The Only Light Left Burning by Erik J. Brown
YA isn't really something I read a whole lot of anymore, and when I do, it's from a carefully curated selection, so it's no real surprise to say that this novel impressed me. Returning to a world I loved so much before was exceedingly good fun. All your usual fanfare is present here, decaying towns, dwindling supplies, zombies, relationship drama, heartbreak and death all around but in a way it feels enjoyable and exciting and so very fresh. It picks up especially around the latter half of the book, while it's never really slow, when the second half starts, it refuses to be stopped.
"It wasn't until the apocalypse that I realized exactly how many stars were out there. With zero light pollution left in the world, it's pretty awesome. Awesome meaning evoking awe, not plain old cool. That's a word that should be reclaimed in the apocalypse."
3.0
"Driving through Fort Collins now feels so different. Eerier somehow. Buildings are burned and there are bullet holes in windows and the sides of disabled trucks. As we head farther into the town, the truck's headlights drift over bloodstained asphalt. "
The Only Light Left Burning sees us return to the apocalypse ravaged wasteland that we left behind in All That's Left in the World. A world overrun by zombies, and now with many more factions vying for power, and of course the continuation of Andrew and Jamie's relationship. A lot goes on in this novel, it's, actually a ton, there's so many themes and plot points blended together to create this heartbreaking, edge of your seat story. It's the kind of tale that will worm its way beneath your skin and give you goosebumps, of course, it's YA, and it reads... Very YA, so it's not all that terrifying. But, since this novel has some real charm, the younger feel to the read is never an issue.
Typically, sequels are never as good as the first novel and, sadly, that is the case here also. It's still a great sequel however, and is still wildly enjoyable, just not as much as the first book. First and foremost, The Only Light Left Burning is a teen drama, and a zombie novel second. It's still fantastically compelling though, still soul-shattering and absolutely brilliant. It's the kind of novel that never offers you a chance to breathe, constantly barraging you with the next wave of action, which actually makes the reading experience go by very quickly. It's a story of constant conflict and chaos, with plenty of murder and a giant cast of characters which lead to this novel feeling so very alive - it's bustling and busy and so very beautifully described.
The Only Light Left Burning sees us return to the apocalypse ravaged wasteland that we left behind in All That's Left in the World. A world overrun by zombies, and now with many more factions vying for power, and of course the continuation of Andrew and Jamie's relationship. A lot goes on in this novel, it's, actually a ton, there's so many themes and plot points blended together to create this heartbreaking, edge of your seat story. It's the kind of tale that will worm its way beneath your skin and give you goosebumps, of course, it's YA, and it reads... Very YA, so it's not all that terrifying. But, since this novel has some real charm, the younger feel to the read is never an issue.
Typically, sequels are never as good as the first novel and, sadly, that is the case here also. It's still a great sequel however, and is still wildly enjoyable, just not as much as the first book. First and foremost, The Only Light Left Burning is a teen drama, and a zombie novel second. It's still fantastically compelling though, still soul-shattering and absolutely brilliant. It's the kind of novel that never offers you a chance to breathe, constantly barraging you with the next wave of action, which actually makes the reading experience go by very quickly. It's a story of constant conflict and chaos, with plenty of murder and a giant cast of characters which lead to this novel feeling so very alive - it's bustling and busy and so very beautifully described.
"More than anything, I'm joking because I don't want to say that the pain is so awful and so relentless that sometimes - despite everything we've survived - I'm not scared of dying anymore. Dying would at least mean no more pain. Now, what scares me the most is the pain not going away. What if it stays hovering at a nine out of ten for my whole life and I become a nasty, miserable person because of it?"
YA isn't really something I read a whole lot of anymore, and when I do, it's from a carefully curated selection, so it's no real surprise to say that this novel impressed me. Returning to a world I loved so much before was exceedingly good fun. All your usual fanfare is present here, decaying towns, dwindling supplies, zombies, relationship drama, heartbreak and death all around but in a way it feels enjoyable and exciting and so very fresh. It picks up especially around the latter half of the book, while it's never really slow, when the second half starts, it refuses to be stopped.
"It wasn't until the apocalypse that I realized exactly how many stars were out there. With zero light pollution left in the world, it's pretty awesome. Awesome meaning evoking awe, not plain old cool. That's a word that should be reclaimed in the apocalypse."