Music to Words: Two Audiobook Reviews:

Making It So: A Memoir, written and narrated by Patrick Stewart (Audiobooks.com)

Be still, my heart. Sir Patrick Stewart’s life in his own words, in his own voice.

I put a hold on this audiobook months before it became available. My library purchased extra copies to accommodate all the requests. To say the wait was worth it is an understatement. The memoir details a fascinating life and an exciting, varied, and long career, much of which I was already familiar with. Sure, I knew Stewart from Star Trek: TNG and its movies, X-Men, I, Claudius, and other films. But I also had a passing familiarity with his charismatic presence on the stage. My daughter and I attended his one-man performance of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, in which Stewart filled the auditorium with his vitality, story-telling genius, and ability to make the text come alive as we’d never before known it. That’s one of the things that stood out for me in his memoir: how he takes a text and makes it emotionally and intellectually accessible, to take the sense of the words and bring them alive. (Highlight: Stewart reciting several of Shakespeare’s Sonnets. This is, of course, to be expected from a highly experienced veteran of the Royal Shakespeare Theater.

And his voice! We all know that rich, supple voice, although since Stewart is now in his 80s, it has acquired “age gravel.” But what the decades have diminished, skill, life experience, and understanding have enhanced even more. He recounts events with intimacy and meaning, as if he had been there, which he had.

I also knew that he came from a working-class family, that his strong stance against domestic violence arose from watching his father’s brutality, that he had been a stage actor long before he ventured into film and television, and that he is so secure in his sexuality that he is comfortable being demonstrably affectionate with a close gay friend (Ian McKellen). Which, needless to say, other straight men ought to emulate. There was much I didn’t know, and discovering it in the course of listening became a delight, one I will not spoil for you. Just download a copy or put yourself on the wait list at your library, and enjoy.

 

Someone You Can Build a Nest In, by John Wiswell, narrated by Carmen Rose (Tantor Audio); print and ebook published by DAW.

I’d heard of John Wiswell, one of the new generation of splendid young authors, so I grabbed a review copy of the audiobook version of his debut novel, Someone You Can Build a Nest In. Narrator Carmen Rose did a splendid job bringing this unusual monster/horror/romance to life. On a panel at the recent Nebula Awards weekend, a speaker referenced this book as a fresh take on the theme of monster as protagonist, in this case monster as heroic, romantic protagonist. Such characters hold a mirror to our deepest fears, offering shared humanity as a path to laying our nightmares to rest. While Wiswell’s book is not an entirely new approach to the point of view of a monster/villain, he brings a wonderful combination of grit, darkness, and lyricism to the story.

Monster Shesheshen, a formless, pluripotent jelly, is rudely awoken from her sleep in the bowels of a ruined manor by human hunters. Quickly assembling hard materials to construct human-like body parts (a metal chain for a backbone, old bones for limbs, and so forth), she disguises herself as a refugee. The ruse works for only a short tome. The hunters are relentless, driven by the obsessive local nobility who, as it turns out, have their own share of horrendous secrets. Badly injured during a chase, Shesheshen experiences her first taste of kindness when a rejected daughter of the noble house rescues her. Bit by bit, step by step, they each heal one another. The monster’s quest eventually becomes how to build a life with, rather than inside of, the love of her life. And to survive her murderous in-laws.

It's a gorgeous, inventive, intoxicating love story, filled with heart-rending truths, self-sacrifice, and gradual unfolding of character. We should all have such a monster in our lives.

Highly recommended.

Short Book Reviews: A Deliciously Bizarre and Terrifying Dystopic Medical Thriller

 Leech, by Hiron Ennes (Tordotcom)

I should preface my review with the confession that although I don’t read a lot of horror, this novel captured my imagination and kept me staying up way too late, turning the pages. It straddles the boundary between science fiction and horror, with a nod to thriller pacing and suggestions of fantastical elements. In a far, but not too far, dystopic future, Earth is barely recognizable. Upheavals have overturned the layers of crust, so that the surface is all but barren. Humans must mine the caverns for wheatrock foodstock. Winters are bitterly cold and getting worse. Even so, settlements persist. One such is an estate ruled by a grossly obese baron who relies on sophisticated machinery to stay alive. When his doctor dies, he sends to the elite Interprovincial Medical Institute for a replacement (the narrator). But this is no simple matter of sending another graduate of the same school. The nameless narrator shares consciousness, knowledge, and memories with every other graduate. In fact, they are all human hosts for a single, telepathic parasite.

As if that weren’t bizarre enough, the cause of death of the former physician turns out to be a second parasite arising deep in the caverns. It’s not only deadly, it’s incredibly difficult to kill, and it’s spreading from one host to the next like wildfire.

I loved the medical neepery, the skillful way the author introduced the characters and plot elements, the rocketship ride of dramatic tension, and the wildly inventive world-building.

Content warning for violence, gore, mental rape, and a few other horrors. The book might be too nightmarish for some readers.

Revisiting Nightmares: Fantasy/Horror Crossovers and Trauma Recovery

Nightmare by Abildgaard

Fantasy and horror have a natural affinity, one that goes back to the pre-literate times when people sat around the campfire, terrifying each other with stories of ghosts and skin-walkers and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night or that-are-not-quite-dead. Supernatural elements infused these tales with delightful spine-tingling shivers. One might speculate that way back then, the entire world must have seemed a perilous place, filled with phenomena beyond human understanding. I think that does a discredit to peoples who might have a much lower level of technology than we do but were nonetheless extremely sophisticated in their conceptualization and emotional understanding of the world around them. For all our computers and skyscrapers, we are just as enthralled by the uncanny and that jolt of adrenaline.

 

Nightmare by Gauguin

Of course, as individuals we vary in what is pleasurable to us. One person’s fun may be the trigger that causes months of terrifying nightmares for another person. This is especially true for people who have themselves been the victims of trauma, whether the assault has come in the form of physical violence or from psychological or emotional abuse. Reading horror or dark fantasy is not an approved method of psychotherapy, but encountering these stories mindfully can shift our perspective. Good fiction of any kind does not “stay on the page” but has the power to change the way we see ourselves and our lives. Horror, by its focus on frightening elements, carries a particular emotional punch.

Short Book Reviews: Puritans Vs Forest God, with Animal Cruelty Warning

 

Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery, by Brom (Tor Nightfire)

I was interested in this book as historical fantasy, with its setting in mid-17^th Century New England among the Puritans. The main character, Abitha, was appealing and her situation, as a non-Puritan bride trying to adjust to the rigidity of life in mid-17^th Century New England, sympathetic. I liked that the Puritans were not monolithic; some were kind, others cruel and ambitious, some devout, others pragmatic. Abitha’s husband genuinely cares for her and tries to shield her against his greedy, ruthless brother, whose schemes would have both of them working as indentured servants. Then there is Slewfoot, an ancient spirit with amnesia, that the talking animals “wildfolk” want to use to wipe all humankind—Native and European settlers alike—from the forest. What the heck does “slewfoot” mean, anyway? I looked it up: in hockey it means, “using your leg to take someone off balance from behind by sweeping the back of their knee, often resulting in injury.” It could be a version of “slue-foot,” meaning “having big, clumsy, or turned-out feet.” Neither of these really applies to the goat-headed creature that enters into a partnership with Abitha, half-savior, half-demon. Which of course does not go over well in a Puritan community.

Without giving too much away, I found the moral ambiguities unsettling. Clearly, some of the human Puritans are hateful, using piety as an excuse for cruelty. But so, in their way, are the wildfolk. There don’t seem to be any ethical concerns about their deadly interactions with Native communities, or the ease with which even sympathetic European characters are slaughtered. Abitha’s eventual pact with Slewfoot stuck me as one that leaves behind compassion and human fellowship as well as desperate circumstances. There was no resolution, no consequences, no arc of justice. The worst part, though, was the torture and eventual killing of her beloved cat. If I had known such a scene was gratuitously added, I would never have read this book. Consider this fair warning if you, too, are an animal lover who treasures the trust and affection of our feline friends.

Short Book Reviews: Nightmare Thanksgiving

 Welcome to Velvet, Az, by Sherry Rossman

For the past eighteen years, the town of Velvet has been under a holiday curse. Thanksgiving is not about turkey and family. On that night the town is beset by Nightmares, terrifying hooded figures that embody a person’s worst fears. A handful of Velvet residents have the ability to absorb the horror of the Nightmares, so every Thanksgiving the town gathers in one place, patrolled by the guardians. The most powerful of these protectors is seventeen-year-old Boone, who was raised by an ageless eccentric and who suffers tremendously by neutralizing the Nightmares. Everyone in Velvet knows the routine. Problems arise, however, when newcomers regard the ritual as mere superstition, to be blithely disregarded, or residents bound to solve the problem with firearms (hint: very bad idea). Two recent arrivals are Nick, who used to live in Velvet and has returned seeking refuge in the midst of a breakdown, and teenager Toni, heavily armored against her traumatic past. While Toni holds Boone at arm’s length, she’s oblivious to the dangers she puts herself in. Nick, on the other hand, delves even deeper into his past and the sequence of events that invoked the curse.

What could possibly go wrong?

Keep turning the pages to find out..

Short Book Reviews: A Gothic Horror in Mexico

 Mexican Gothic, by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (Del Rey)

Slowly building but gripping from the start, this Gothic horror tale set in 1950s Mexico is just the sort of brilliantly executed, engaging tale you’d expect from the author of Gods of Jade and Shadow. It’s gorgeous, sensual, and incredibly creepy, at times reminding me of all the tales and movies in which fungus is the agent of evil or at least creepiness. (Remember Brian Lumley’s story, “Fruiting Bodies”? Or Molly Tanzer’s more recent novel, Creatures of Want and Ruin?) Here Moreno-Garcia has given these elements and the trope of the sinister Gothic mansion her own flair and flavor.

Noemí Taboada ventures to a big, spooky mansion after her newly married cousin sends a desperate, if incoherent, message. We know, of course, that all is not as it appears to be in this realm of shabby British expatriate gentility. There’s the ancient, decaying, bed-ridden patriarch, the cousin’s charismatic but sadistically manipulative husband, the hyper-controlling aunt, and the pale, poetic nephew who draws beautiful sketches of fungi. But Noemí is no ordinary Gothic heroine, she’s a modern (well, 1950s modern) woman with scholarly aspirations, a talent for controlling social situations through flirtation, the ability to drive a car, and an impetuous fearlessness that gets her out of trouble as often as it gets her in. Yet even her forthrightness and independence are not enough to render her immune from the slow intoxication of the mansion, High Place, and its inhabitants. Fungal spores are in the air she breathes, the food she eats, even the wallpaper of her bedroom, and it’s only a matter of time before she succumbs.

From the breezy opening scenes to the slowly building creepiness to the utterly horrific page-turner climax, Mexican Gothic delivers on its promise. It held my imagination in its fungal-laced grip.

This award-worthy novel is definitely not for reading late at night if you intend to get any sleep!

Short Book Reviews: Welcome to the Night Vigil

Sons of Darkness (A Night Vigil Novel), by Gail Z. Martin (SOL)

I met Gail Z. Martin through her #HoldOnToTheLight campaign and was curious to see what kind of fiction she writes (there’s a lot of it, which is a good thing because she’s very good!) I didn’t know that Sons of Darkness is tied into several of her other series, but no prior experience was necessary to enjoy this story.

Martin is highly experienced in her genre and handles pacing, tension, character development, and a host of new twists on old horror themes with deceptive ease that makes for a smooth, fast-paced reading experience.

The book revolves around two men who are both mirrors of one another and distinct individuals. Travis Dominick, ex-priest, psychic medium, and former member of a secret Vatican order of demon hunters, encounters Brent Lawson, vet, ex-cop, ex-FBI agent, former member of a supernatural-black-ops, and surviving twin whose ghost brother hangs around, trying to make contact. Travis’s first thought about Brent as he rescues him from a psi-vampire is: There’s a newbie out there who thinks he’s Van Helsing.

Soon, however, the two overcome their animosity to work together as supernatural invasions mount and a pattern emerges:  every fifty years, a hell gate opens and increasingly terrible disasters feed the spirit dwelling there, climaxing in a horrific blood bath.

Short Book Reviews: HP Lovecraft Meets Shirley Jackson's Hill House

In the Shadow of Spindrift House, by Mira Grant (Subterranean) 

I made my acquaintance of the works of Seanan McGuire through Rosemary and Rue, then the “Incryptid” and “Ghost Roads” series. Mira Grant is Seanan’s horror-writing alias, and I’ve only recently dabbled in her work. Even though horror is not usually my cuppa I’m so glad I did! In the Shadow of Spindrift House is a strange little tale, novella-length if I’m not mistaken, a sort of demented love-child of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House, and the work of H. P. Lovecraft. And a gang of kid ghost-busters, now adults adrift in their own lives.

Spindrift House is haunted; that’s the only thing the denizens of “the half-ruined town of Port Mercy, Maine” can agree on. The land itself is valuable, but the title is clouded, and the documents that would establish claim lie within the strange Victorian edifice. The contesting families have offered a huge reward for the documents, but anyone searching for them must remain for the entire search. So our ghost-busters-now-grown embark upon this treasure hunt.

But the house isn’t safe, and neither is the ocean it overlooks (of course – this is Lovecraft territory, isn’t it?) The imagery shifts from “the sweet, beguiling whisper of the sea” to “the sound of the sea . . . like the beating of some huge, horrible heart” The house, too, is described in spine-chilling terms from “like it’s rotting from the inside out . . . the banister was slick under my fingers, damp with some scentless, unspeakable fluid . . .” “the house was moving in my veins, burrowing into my bones . . .”

The language, with its frequent references to rot and decay, the sense of creeping, nameless horror, are all evocative of Lovecraft’s work, but also Jackson’s psychological thriller, with its slow peeling-away of the veneer of normality and civilization to reveal most uncivilized secrets.

This is a quick read, full of shivery moments. Familiarity with either Lovecraft or Jackson isn’t necessary to enjoy it, although fans of either work will relish the references.

The usual disclaimer: I received a review copy of this book, but no one bribed me to say anything in particular about it. Although chocolates and fine imported tea are always welcome.

World Fantasy Awards and Jackson's Middle Earth

First and foremost, congratulations to the winners of the World Fantasy Award, and also to the finalists. Many splendid creations here.

Now this post will veer off in a highly personal direction, applying to no one but myself. I have read one of the winners and when I saw the title, I felt a little sick. Do not get me wrong -- the work absolutely deserved the award. It was highly original and superbly executed, a stellar addition to the field.

And it gave the the absolute shakes. There's no way I can see myself ever reading it again. Our local library got my copy.

I've talked with folks who write and love horror about my aversion to it, and I appreciate their point that horror gives us a way of regaining power over the things that terrify us. Once upon a time, I got a delicious thrill out of that adrenaline jolt and the weird, fascinating dark stuff. I don't anymore. I think my threshold has been permanently re-set, and the consequences of exceeding it are more tenacious.

So why am I not pushed over that edge by the violence in the Peter Jackson Middle Earth films? There's plenty of excitement and twenty ways to kill an orc, each sillier and bloodier than the one before, and characters I love in dire peril. Is it the fantastical setting? The characters, even non-humans like Elves and Dwarves, don't feel unreal. Is it the knowledge that all will be well in the end, or as well as can be, given the price various characters play? I still cry at Boromir's death -- he didn't have a happy ending.

And yet, as I wrote in an earlier, watching the films, with all their flaws -- and also reading the books, albeit less vividly -- leaves me with a feeling of peace. Emotionally wrung-out, but brought to a good place by all the adventures I've gone along on.

Truly, we each see and read a different story. They are all colored by what we as individuals bring to them.