Synopsis

Full of heartbreak, revulsion and black humour, a scientist desperately searches for a cure to a zombie virus while also hiding a monumental secret – her undead husband.

Kesta’s husband Tim was the last person to be bitten in a zombie pandemic. The country is now in a period of respite, the government seemingly having rounded up and disposed of all the infected.

But Kesta has a secret . . .

Tim may have been bitten, but he’s not quite dead yet. In fact, he’s tied to a bed in her spare room. And she’s made him a promise: find a cure, bring him back.

A scientist by day, Kesta juggles intensive work under the microscope alongside Tim’s care, slipping him stolen drugs to keep him docile, knowing she is hiding the only zombie left. But Kesta is running out of drugs – and time. Can she save her husband before he is discovered? Or worse . . . will they trigger another outbreak?

Review

The loss of a loved one can be a horror, even if it’s coming is expected. But what if your loved one comes back from death? And what if there was a chance to save them?

This is what is explored in One Yellow Eye, the debut novel by Leigh Radford. This is a book that is a sermon on grief, on loss, terminal illness, and what lengths we would go to for the people we love, all dressed up as a zombie thriller. Following Kesta, a scientist and widowed victim of the recent zombie virus outbreak, who by day searches for a cure to prevent another disastrous outbreak. But at home, she keeps her undead husband locked away in a room, feeding him drugs and supplements to keep him “alive”, all whilst trying everything in her power to desperately cure him.

The zombie virus is used as an allegory for terminal illness, but really can be applied for any life-threatening illness; with COVID especially being prevalent in the underlayers of this novel. I think most people have unfortunately had to suffer the pain of loss, and even witness the inevitability of the end coming for someone that we love. This powerlessness is explored through Kesta, and her journey is so relatable. Ultimately, what would you do to save those that you love, and what lengths would you strive for to achieve that goal? She does a number of questionable things, more and more morally grey as she becomes more consumed by the grief that has its hooks in her. I also felt like it was a believable arc. This zombie outbreak is – to quote every news stations favourite word from the END TIMES OF 2020 – unprecedented, and the suddenness of this loss would rip even the most stoic of hearts apart. But having that light at the end of tunnel of the cure just on the horizon (and the fact that Kesta is actively a part of that process), makes her descent even more convincing.

This is also secretly a romance novel. The love that Kesta has for Tim, even in his undead state, is heart wrenching, and the absolute best moments in this story are when Kesta is at home with her husband reminiscing about the Before Times, about the memories that make her her, how much love she knows and still feels from her husband’s semi-lucid state. You can feel Leigh Radford is writing from the very depths of her soul when penning these parts.

I also liked how believable this zombie outbreak felt. As Kesta is a scientist, there is a large swath of this novel dedicated to the science behind the outbreak, the virus, the cure. It’s well researched, and considering most zombie thrillers either don’t bother with the science (which is fine if the story calls for it), it was refreshing to see just how in depth this went. If I had a gripe, it would be that the science-y bits maybe did outstay their welcome just a tad, but the conflict between Kesta and the bureaucracy of the lab – as she isn’t able to reveal how she is privy to some information without letting on that there’s a zombie chained up at home – is great and always filled with tension.

For me, One Yellow Eye is a deep exploration on love through grief, the devastating effects of loss, the inevitability of terminal illness, and what we do for those we love – and how much may be too much. Leigh Radford explores this sensitive area of discussion with subtlety, care, and aplomb. The closing moments of this novel will stay with me for a long while, and being so engrossed in this heart-breaking journey from the start was a pleasure to experience. I really hope Leigh Radford uses another horror archetype to explore something else in the future, and I’m excited to see where she goes next!

With thanks to Tor Nightfire for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!

Synopsis

A chilling historical horror set in the American west in 1912 following a Lutheran priest who transcribes the life of a vampire who haunts the fields of the Blackfeet reservation looking for justice.

Etsy Beaucarne is an academic who needs to get published. So when a journal written in 1912 by Arthur Beaucarne, a Lutheran pastor and her grandfather, is discovered within a wall during renovations, she sees her chance. She can uncover the lost secrets of her family, and get tenure.

As she researches, she comes to learn of her grandfather, and a Blackfeet called Good Stab, who came to Arthur to share the story of his extraordinary life. The journals detail a slow massacre, a chain of events charting the history of Montana state as it formed. A cycle of violence that leads all the way back to 217 Blackfeet murdered in the snow.

A blood-soaked and unflinching saga of the violence of colonial America, a revenge story like no other, and the chilling reinvention of vampire lore from the master of horror.

Review

Imagine, just for a moment, that whilst renovating a building, you discover an old journal. Not just any old journal, but a journal from your very own great-grandfather. And contained within this journal, isn’t the thoughts of a turn-of-the-century gentleman, but a story within a story, a Russian dolls nest of horror and unimaginable events. A story of bloodshed, wanton and destructive. A tale both lucid and yet seemingly ethereal, charting the events of one man’s life across the plains of Montana, a man who has no place, rejected by both the white man and his own people. But this man’s story is more than just a tall tale; it’s one of revenge. And when seeking revenge, a vampire has all the time in the world to wait.

And so Stephen Graham Jones, author of the award-winning novels The Only Good Indians & The Indian Lake trilogy, is back with another masterpiece, this time tackling the vampire mythos and turning it into something wholly original and new. SGJ harkens back to the great vampire novels that came before it – Interview With A Vampire, Dracula, Carmilla – but using an epistolary narrative form to tell this tale spanning multiple generations, and over 2 centuries of violence. Etsy Beaucarne, one of our three storytellers and chroniclers, is of the present day, having found her great-grandfathers journal in the walls of a building that is being renovated. Desperate for academic success, she begins to transcribe this book. From here, and for the biggest portion of this novel, we then read the journal enters of her descendant, Arthur Beaucarne, a Lutheran priest, as in the spring of 1912, he is visited numerous times by a Blackfeet Native American, a man by the name of Good Stab. Good Stab’s story is then told through first person narration, as he “confesses” his frankly wild life to Arthur.

The interactions between Arthur & Good Stab, which are always seen from Arthur’s POV/writings, are tense from the beginning. I never knew which direction this was going to go, and to be honest, for the first 200+ pages of this story, I wasn’t sure what exactly was going on or why. This isn’t a bad thing; normally I wouldn’t like what feels so meandering, but SGJ’s writing is so immersive, and all three narrative throughlines are so unique from each other, it becomes so incredibly readable because you are fully encompassed in the journey. And as each layer of both Arthur’s & Good Stab’s stories unfold – when both characters pipes are full – you are pulled along for more. Etsy’s POV is very familiar and modern; Arthur has this almost romantic idea of Victorian style language, and he writes with a long-winded hand. Good Stab is wholly unique from anything I’ve experienced before, and his tale can be confusing (for me at least it was) to comprehend at first. This is book you cannot read fast. SGJ does not hold your hand. Instead, he wants you to dive deep straight in and work things out, puzzle them out until you have your own grip on the events being told between these pages.

Because this is a very deeply thematic novel. It demands to be read slowly, and each section becomes its own learning curve. It’s almost best to read one POV until it switches to another, then break there and think about what has just been said. This story explores the bloody takeover of Native peoples lands, of the violence found in colonial America, how this was built on the wholesale destruction of the lands, peoples, and nature held within. It’s a blood-drenched story of vengeance, of being an outcast, of metamorphosis. It’s also a story that you have to trust in the process. The writing is of a quality that will keep you reading anyway, but as you move through this book, each of these themes and more are hit upon in symbolism, in allegory, and come the final 150 pages of this story, SGJ smashes it into another gear. The final confrontation and closing moments of Arthur’s & Good Stab’s respective stories are up there with some of the best one-on-one face offs I’ve ever read.

Arthur & Good Stab are these two opposites, yet so incredibly alike, and their juxtaposition to one another only becomes more interesting as the book carries on. Good Stab, being a vampire (more on the vampire stuff shortly), dressed in his own set of priest blacks, has an insatiable thirst for blood, a curse that causes him afflictions to the suns light, all of which he cannot control. Arthur, however, has his own gluttony, but it’s entirely something within his control. Yet he always chooses not eat, and eat of the food given to him by his parish he will. I see them as two sides of the same coin.

Now, the vampire shit; I will keep it short as I want you to experience this yourself. This shit is so original and so cool! Vampirism here is truly a curse. There is no romanticism here; Good Stab suffers physically and emotionally. For him, there is no lust, no castle with thralls and a gorgeous lover. There is only rejection, from his own people, from the people who took his land, from everything. And what he must do to survive is pure horror. SGJ said that he wanted this to not feel like other vampires, and the vampire lore we have come to expect. Instead, it had to feel like Good Stab was just scraping by at all times, and that this curse was always there to cause pain. It’s heartbreaking, seeing what he goes through, despite the fact that some of the things he does are monstrous – justifiably or not, that is for you to decide.

Please note: this is not the story for those faint of heart. It is very gory, very bloody, and there’s lots of animal stuff in this one. It’s never gratuitous nor is it done for shock value. It is always in service to the themes, to the characters, to the story at large.  

In short, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter is a masterwork of revenge fiction, coated with one of the most original spins on the vampire I’ve ever experienced. Stephen Graham Jones writes with such confidence and immersion, never holding your hand in this book that is supposed to challenge you. It was my first SGJ novel, and it definitely is not going to be the last. The Buffalo Hunter Hunter is out now, and it’s going to be remembered as a classic.

Good Stab has a story to tell. So you had better listen.

With thanks to Titan Books for sending me an ARC and a finished copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. I am very grateful to have received such a wonderful book!

Synopsis

Blood once turned the wheels of empire. Now it is money.

A new age of exploration and innovation has dawned, and the Empire of the Wolf stands to take its place as the foremost power in the known world. Glory and riches await.

But dark days are coming. A mysterious plague has broken out in the pagan kingdoms to the north, while in the south, the Empire’s proxy war in the lands of the wolfmen is weeks away from total collapse.

Worse still is the message brought to the Empress by two heretic monks, who claim to have lost contact with the spirits of the afterlife. The monks believe this is the start of an ancient prophecy heralding the end of days-the Great Silence.

It falls to Renata Rainer, a low-ranking ambassador to an enigmatic and vicious race of mermen, to seek answers from those who still practice the arcane arts. But with the road south beset by war and the Empire on the brink of supernatural catastrophe, soon there may not be a world left to save . . .

Grave Empire is the first novel in an unmissable new series from Sunday Times bestselling author Richard Swan – a dark flintlock fantasy filled with epic adventure, arcane powers and creeping dread.

Review

If you’ve been a reader of Richard Swan since his fantasy debut, The Justice of Kings, you’ll know his works have been on a steadily more horror-centric trajectory. From the more mystery based and subtle beginnings of The Justice of Kings (if you can call Necromancy and Communication with the dead as subtle), to the bombastic, cosmic Lovecraftian level of the final showdown in The Trials of Empire, each of his books has introduced more monsters, more inter-dimensional horrors, more fear-inducing violence. And if you have loved how each of books has introduced some new level of terror, then you’ll be pleased to know that Grave Empire fully embraces the horror genre, so much so that I’d say this one feels more like a horror novel with fantasy elements, as opposed to the other way around with its predecessor.

Set 200 years after the events of the Empire of the Wolf trilogy (of which you do not have to have read to enjoy this new trilogy), Grave Empire follows three POVs, all of whom are fully unique from each other and largely self-contained. Renata Rainer, arguably our main POV, an ambassador to the merfolk tasked with connecting these vicious people to find answers to the fabled Great Silence. You have Peter, an out of his depth officer in the far flung frontier, facing violent horrors lurking in the jungle. And finally, Count Lamprecht von Oldenburg, an ambitious and ruthless nobleman, who is investigating a strange plague that turns people into mindless entities. All three of these POVs, whilst barely interlinking, are unique in their style. Renata’s plot feels the most fantastical of the lot, and is essentially a quest/travelogue story of a mission, a journey, a destination, but with Swan’s distinct geo-political and darkly magic flavourings. Count von Oldenburg is almost a gothic horror akin to Frankenstein, as we live with a deeply single-minded scientist type character, who finds everything and everyone in his pathway to his ultimate goal (of which is best to find out yourself) to be fully disposable. He’s strangely funny, in his often moustache twirling way, much the same that Nicomo Cosca is in The First Law series. He’s deplorable, but enigmatic and charming too.

Peter’s story, however, is pure horror. This is where Swan goes fully balls to the wall, and everything that could possibly go wrong does, and in disgusting fashion! His story is like a blend of Cannibal Holocaust & Bone Tomahawk, but with a bunch of terrified Napoleonic soldiers all fully at breaking point. From disembodied screams to mutilated ghosts to long, drawn out scenes of uber-brutal ritualistic sacrifices, Peter has a pretty shitty time of it. His scenes are far & aware the most overtly horrific, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the book is sunshine and rainbows.

These three plotlines do feel very separate from one another, with only vague nods to tie them together. But knowing Swan’s previous works, and where the book ends up, I should imagine these threads will collide spectacularly. This isn’t a criticism at all, just merely an observation. It’s clear that this book is its completely own new thing, unshackled from the events of the original trilogy, and also a set up for what’s to come. But at no times does it feel like its just trudging along to justify getting to the good stuff. It’s all gripping, action packed stuff, full of the same intelligent, witty, biting prose that you should expect from Richard Swan. It really feels like that, now unshackled from the constraints of the original trilogy (which was spectacular, and Richard knows I loved these books), he’s gone crazy with it and allowed himself to be bold with his decisions. It’s this book that I feel is a great example of what I am hoping will become a trend in modern fantasy publishing. Throughout the 2010’s we had the rise of Grimdark works and a resurgence of Epic works, and now in the 2020’s we have cosy fantasy & romantasy dominating SFF sales charts. I believe these can all exist in tandem, but I’d love to see more Capital H Horror titles, but wearing a fantasy costume, sharing the big name space. Grave Empire is the example that this offshoot should follow.

I realise I’ve written a lot of words and not really said too much. Essentially, if you are looking for very distinct complying characters, following three storylines that are all different enough to keep the reading experience fresh, and to witness a story and author that really feel like they are paving the way for something new, some new trend, then this book is a must read. I’ve always said that Swan’s work is appointment reading, especially for all his character interactions which I rate up there with Abercrombie in their ability to entertain and also bitterly denounce a real world topic (law and order, political nonsense, philosophy, the wealthy). I also haven’t even mentioned the fact that the world feels real in terms of how it is presented here, the peoples that inhabit it, but also how it has evolved since the original trilogy, which, again whilst not necessary to have read to enjoy this one, knowing how things were and seeing the very logical progression to a Flintlock & Gunpowder style world is so cool. I also have a soft spot for these early Industrial Revolution influenced settings. For whatever reason, muskets and incompetent military leadership, steam powered machines and the subjugation of the working class really gets me hooked!

This is a brilliant beginning to a new horror fantasy trilogy that I really hope catches on, as I’d love to see more overt horror in the fantasy genre. Grave Empire rules, and you need to read it right now!

Synopsis

A young musician finds himself locked inside a gas station bathroom in the middle of the night by an unseen assailant, caught between the horrors on the other side of the door and the horrors rapidly skittering down the walls inside.

Review

Let’s start this review with a simple statement.

I love short, sharp, novellas, and I especially love these quick vignettes when they are tense, twisting and anxiety inducing thrill rides. And this is exactly what Rest Stop by Nat Cassidy is.

We follow Abe, a musician on a night drive to see his dying grandmother one final time, whilst also reconnecting with family. On his way, he stops at a gas station rest stop, goes inside to use the bathroom, then finds himself locked in. And really, this is all the set up you need to know before Cassidy grabs you by the proverbial balls and whisks you down this spiralling, locked-in-a-room thriller. Think a weirder, more psychological horror based Green Room (the 2015 movie about a rock band locked in the backstage area of a venue after witnessing a Neo-Nazi gang commit a murder), or even a more creepy crawly infested version of 127 Hours. Rest Stop thrives by putting Abe into this immediately desperate and distressing liminal space.

The rest stop itself is exactly how you’d imagine any middle-of-nowhere gas station bathroom. It’s a compact space with a toilet in one corner and a mirror and sink in another, filled with the histories – the scribblings and doodles, knicks and knocks – of countless other pissers and shitters. These innocuous details, the crudes messages on the wall, the grime around the tap, the dirt streaked mirror, all create this familiar space we have all seen time and again, in various faces and styles that I think can be universally understood. It’s a shared space (if not physically shared when you’re using it) and it’s a place to reset, to break up the journey into more manageable chunks. It’s an area that is liminal, in both its utilisation and familiarity, and so Cassidy’s perversion of this – mainly, how he twists this on its head – is wholly chilling. Knocking that tension up bit by bit as the story progresses in the way that he does also made me sweaty, grinning from ear to ear as things build. I find this feeling hard to describe; I myself HATE to be in any situation where there is tension involved. But reading it, or seeing our character go through it themselves, makes me giddy. It’s the giddiness in my gut that confirms to me that I am reading something special.

It’s also disorienting in its telling, yet a wholly vivid and truly cinematic experience. I felt there, in amongst the piss puddles and pube piles of the bathroom, versus the super bright halogen lights of the store itself. I also felt like I could see the cinematography within the pages. It was so clear to me how certain shots were framed and how certain sequences were filmed, insofar as much as this can be applied to the written word. I mean this in a way that any cinephile would talk about how they love the technicality of a Denis Villeneuve picture, for example. I felt the claustrophobic push of the bathroom walls, I could hear the subtle score and the discordant strings when something more horrific rears its head.

I’m trying to be vague with the actual events of the story within this review. I feel like all you need to know is “man stuck in bathroom, bad shit happens” and then just let Nat Cassidy take over from there. There’s themes of generational trauma, survivors guilt, relationships with friends & family, “jewishness”, music and our attachment to it. All of these themes and the events that transpire in this 124 page ride weave together to tell something intense, chaotic, thought-provoking, challenging, terrifying, and just plain awesome. It’s like the best A24 movie in novella format, a story crying out for a screen adaption, and frankly, a super exciting literal edge-of-your-seat scream of a tale. I can’t wait to read more Nat Cassidy!

Side note: Nat Cassidy is often featured on the Talking Scared podcast. This isn’t an ad for the podcast, but I’d highly recommend any episode of which he is a guest, particularly if you are a massive Dark Tower junkie like me!

Synopsis

Return to the world of Renfield County from the Bram Stoker Award-nominated author of Edenville. Perfect for fans of Paul Tremblay and Eric LaRocca.

“You remember all the stories, right? Monsters and giants and kid-eaters and that guy in the tub? Of course you do…”

There’s something wrong in Renfield County. It’s in the walls of the county’s historic houses, in the water, in the soil. But far worse than that—it’s embedded deep within everyone who lives here. From the detective desperate to avoid hurting his own family; to the man so consumed with feeling zen that he will pursue horrific, life-changing surgery to achieve it. From the townspeople taken by ancient, unknowable forces; to those who find themselves lost in the woods, pursued by the beasts who lurk within the trees.

Yes, there’s something very wrong in Renfield County—something that has been very wrong for a very long time. Something that is watching.

Something that is hungry.

From the mind of acclaimed author Sam Rebelein, return to the Bram Stoker Award-nominated world of Edenville in this interconnected series of short stories, and discover the true secrets of Renfield County.

Review

One thing that I love about the horror genre is that often times, the author or creative team will make the setting itself as much of a character as the main cast themselves. Castle Rock, Hill House, Silent Hill, the list goes on. Each of these settings feel like they have their own history, their own myths, local legends, skeletons buried deep. You always get the feeling that these are breathing, living entities, with a life blood that flows through them, could exist as its own force, despite the fact that it is the people living their lives and the choices that they make, the histories they build, that are what ultimately make these places come alive.

And this is exactly what Sam Rebelein is going for in this collection of short stories, The Poorly Made & Other Things. Set in the fictional county of Renfield County – which is also the same setting as Rebelein’s debut, Edenville – Rebelein takes us on a journey of an almost mythological retelling level of local legends, stories, CreepyPasta type tales, in 10 shorts that, on their own, completely stand alone. But Rebelein connects all these stories together by a linked thread, an email exchange between a sister and her estranged brother, as she recounts her own research into their home town of Renfield County and the mass murder of a family that seemly has tainted this town.

Amongst these stories, Sam also sprinkles little “easter eggs” between them all. In one story, you have Hector Brim, a mysterious man who features heavily in the first story. Later on, another story references the Brim family. It’s these that also make these stories feel true to life, that make them feel like they are fully part of a community gossiping with one another, and stories, urban legends, being passed from person to person. It’s another layer of depth to this twisted town.

Of course, as I’ve already said, each of these stories also stands as a terrifying, creepy, horrible tale all on their own. And each are wildly different from what comes before – even experimental in their telling. One is told from a second person narrative – a style of storytelling I usually despise – except here it’s done to create a very effective chase type thriller, which an entity relentless stalking the main protagonist (i.e. us). We have a story from the POV of a child, as if that child is telling this story to us, and I could imagine they are distractedly colouring in a picture with some crayons whilst they do it – which makes this story creative. Which is cool to see. Which this reference will go straight over your head if you haven’t read this one.

Ultimately, we have a package of cosmic, body, gothic, slasher, tragic, folkloric horror tales that makes each story feel totally fresh, linked together by an email chain that creates a mystery to bind these together. All the stories are just enough to have the right amount of bite, like sitting down to a Michelin-starred 10 course tasting experience. Yes, you might only have a mouthful per story, but its so rich, bold, and the flavours are so widely varying, that it creates a satisfying experience. This feels like a modern day Icelandic Tales, through the lens of small town USA. I’m really looking to what Sam Rebelein does next, and luckily, I still have Edenville to fall back onto, for one more journey to the fucked-up town of Renfield County! A highly recommended collection!

With thanks to Titan Books for sending me a copy in exchange for an honest review.

Synopsis

A woman must learn to take life by the throat after a night out leads to irrevocable changes in this juicy, thrilling novel from the USA Today-bestselling author of Such Sharp Teeth and Black Sheep.

Sloane Parker is dreading her birthday. She doesn’t need a reminder she’s getting older, or that she’s feeling indifferent about her own life. Her husband surprises her with a birthday-weekend getaway―not with him, but with Sloane’s longtime best friend, troublemaker extraordinaire Naomi. Sloane anticipates a weekend of wine tastings and cozy robes and strategic avoidance of issues she’d rather not confront, like her husband’s repeated infidelity.

But when they arrive at their rental cottage, it becomes clear Naomi has something else in mind. She wants Sloane to stop letting things happen to her, for Sloane to really live. So Naomi orchestrates a wild night out with a group of mysterious strangers, only for it to take a horrifying turn that changes Sloane’s and Naomi’s lives literally forever. The friends are forced to come to terms with some pretty eternal consequences in this bloody, seductive novel about how it’s never too late to find satisfaction, even though it might taste different than expected.

Review

Life sucks. You wake up, go to work, eat, shit, sleep and repeat. And most of the time, you do all this on a form of autopilot, never really confronting the fact that you’re just living, but not really living. Yeah, sure, for most people (and very generally speaking here), you have these moments of life that make the more mundane worth pushing through.

Do you know what doesn’t suck? So Thirsty by Rachel Harrison, which is a book that questions the difference between just surviving and living life to its fullest, about catering for our wants and not just our needs.

So Thirsty follows Sloane, a thirty-something year old woman on the cusp of another miserable birthday, as she heads off on a getaway with her best friend, Naomi, organised by her cheating husband. Whilst there, they encounter a group of vampires, and things take a turn that change their lives forever. Now, from the off, this isn’t a book where the vampires are uber scary. They aren’t the kind of Barlow type vampire, terrifying and monstrous beyond understanding. Neither are they brooding vampire who only want love ala Edward Cullen. Really, they feel very human, more akin to Dracula’s “brides” in S.T. Gibson’s A Dowry of Blood. This group they encounter are humorous, multi-faceted, have a deep history with one another with their own wants and desires, yet bound together by a shared bond. It’s a very post-modern take on the vampire concept – if that isn’t a too “up my own arse” thing to say. Yet they still have this sense of danger, at least to start, particularly as Sloane first interacts with them.

Sloane herself is very interesting. The book is entirely in her headspace, and it’s the mind of a person so deeply in denial about her own self that she’s struggling to claw this back, yet she is fully aware of this. It’s fascinating watching her contradict her own actions, her own thoughts, wants and needs to fit with this pre-conceived notion of who she should be. This book is very much a feminist shout of rage at societal norms surrounding women – this idea of suburbanism (if that’s even a word), of having value through how you present outwardly – particularly the whole aging woman thing and losing purpose as a woman ages. I could say I find this very thought pattern to be utterly ridiculous, which I do, but I also acknowledge that me pointing this out just makes me look like a “good guy”, a real fedora twirling “pick me” and can often actually have the opposite effect of what this is trying to challenge. I digress. Sloane’s struggles throughout with her own identity, of her own regrets and paths not tread, of settling down for what she thinks she deserves and never trying to strive for more, and vampirism acts as a metaphor for this. As the need for blood, that overpowering slam of thirst in those early days of vampirism, counters against everything she ever strived for or what she thought she should strive for, and what she really wants from life. I know this book is a feminist take on this, and I’m not detracting from that, but I feel like this sense of longing is a universal feeling in many of us. Like I said previously, I’d like to think that many of us enjoy most aspects of our lives, but there are naturally going to be things we want. To self-indulge for a moment, I think I managed to read this book at a time where I am feeling the same feelings – well, I’m not having a shitty time of life like Sloane, I’m just thinking about where I want to go in my career, how I want to explore my own writing and how to build this, what I need to do to strive for this idea of me becoming a published author etc. Even if you can’t relate to the exact things that are going on in Sloane’s life, you can definitely and would have definitely felt these feelings before.

Sloane & Naomi’s relationship is very realistic. They have this deep unspoken bond that is unexplainable, it’s more like magic really, a bond you tend to have with very few people. I loved the moments where we step away from the events unfolding before us so Sloane can reflect on her friendship with Naomi over the years. Despite them being two completely separate people on paper, throughout the story you can really begin to understand why they have this deep infatuation with each other. It’s a love that’s not romantic at all, it’s a familial love. Sloane’s relationship to the rest of the group also feels natural in both its initial first steps and its culmination. Each person in that group represents some part of Sloane even if she doesn’t know it. But one of my favourite moments is hers and Henry’s first true meeting, alone in a room in a dark house. It’s both scary & sensual. Either way, my heart was pounding!

So Thirsty is a metaphorical title. It’s about that thirst for blood, for base carnal desires, but its also that thirst for something more in life, for a life worth getting up for. Not about getting up and making a huge difference in the world, but just making a change to your own being so you can feel fulfilled in yourself. I think the question that Rachel Harrison conveys here, and the answer that it ultimately comes up with, is a hopeful one. It’s a book I’d highly recommend. Don’t go thinking you’ll be terrified or grossed out or horrified; that isn’t this book. Instead, let yourself be swept away by the characters, the message, the words between the words, and the reflective nature of this books closing few pages. I can’t wait to read more of Harrison’s works. If they make think and feel as much as this one did, then I may have found a new favourite author.

Synopsis

Noah Fairchild has been losing his formerly polite Southern parents to far-right cable news for years, so when his mother leaves him a voicemail warning him that the “Great Reckoning” is here, he assumes it’s related to one of the many conspiracy theories she believes in. But when his own phone calls go unanswered, Noah makes the long drive from Brooklyn to Richmond, Virginia. There, he discovers his childhood home in shambles, a fridge full of spoiled food, and his parents locked in a terrifying trance-like state in front of the TV. Panicked, Noah attempts to snap them out of it and get medical help.

Then Noah’s mother brutally attacks him.

But Noah isn’t the only person to be attacked by a loved one. Families across the country are tearing each other apart-–literally-–as people succumb to a form of possession that gets worse the more time they spend watching particular channels, using certain apps, or visiting certain websites. In Noah’s Richmond-based family, only he and his young nephew Marcus are unaffected. Together, they must race back to the safe haven of Brooklyn–-but can they make it before they fall prey to the violent hordes?

This ambitious, searing novel from “one of horror’s modern masters” holds a mirror to our divided nation, and will shake readers to the core.

Review

I’ve been racking my brain for a coherent, intelligent way to begin my review of Clay McLeod Chapman’s exceptional dissection of right-wing news & parasitic social media relationships, Wake Up and Open Your Eyes. But all I can really say is this:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What I mean by this unfathomable noise is that, merely half way through the first month of 2025, I think I have found my book of the year. It’s certainly going to take something very special to knock this off the top stop. Not only this, but I believe this may be one of the best, most effective horror stories I’ve ever experienced.

Wake Up and Open Your Eyes follows Noah, a man who, after a number of disturbing incidents surrounding his parents, decides to pay them a visit and is greeted by something he’d never expect. This is very much the tip of the iceberg, as this book is so much more than that.

At it’s core, this is a book about the corrupting influences of news media outlets, in particular those of a right wing standing, and the vampiric nature of social media, and how this can skews our ideals of what we want and crave as people. Where other authors would use subtle methods, symbolism and moments of reflection, Chapman uses this novel as a sledgehammer to ram home his themes. It’s overt, unrelenting, completely batshit, balls to the wall crazy in every sense. From the various prose styles utilised throughout, to the actual events happening on the page, to its on-the-nose parody of news networks like Fox News and right wing tabloid media, this book thrives of the madness and insanity of modern America. And that’s entirely the point of this novel. It’s here to be in-your-face, and its running repetition of its own title – WAKE UP, OPEN YOUR EYES – is as much a driving mantra for our characters descent as it is to us the reader. It’s begging us to “LOOK AT THIS. LOOK AT HOW THESE NORMAL PEOPLE HAVE SUCCUMB TO HATED, BIGOTRY AND VITRIOL. THIS COULD BE YOU, OR YOUR LOVED ONES. IT’S HAPPENING NOW, DO YOU NOT SEE THAT?”, slamming us in the face time after time. Whilst the events of this book are bombastic to a heart-poundingly entertaining degree, it does feel like the messaging that this book is shouting at us is very true. We see everyday the levels of baseless depravity that these media outlets throw out at their viewers, how social media has become this twisted paradise for the vulnerable, how idealism can twist those who don’t feel satisfied with their own lives, and how this begins to turn people into hate filled, grotesque monsters. It’s clear that this book is calling out a post-Trumpism (sigh, current-Trumpism) world, and in an America that is more divided between left & right politics than ever before – that’s being strangled by this suffocating need to be constantly aware, online and relevant 24/7 – this is easily the most relevant novel I’ve read in a very, very long time. The phrase “woke mind virus” is bandied around in conservative rhetoric as a way, so this books ironic table-turning of this concept into something that’s actually effecting the minds of those of a Red-persuasion is wholly fascinating to watch unfold. Clay doesn’t shy aware from critiquing liberal mindsets either, with the bold, final section of this book being unconventional in its approach so as to point its finger at the left (and again, us) for letting things get this bad. I can’t go into this in more detail because to have its full effect play out on you like the slam of a steam-powered train is best left for you to experience as it unfolds.

Come the end of this book, I was left feeling bleak. It asks the sombre question; are we already too late to turn back? I finished this book in the early hours of this morning (00:15, to be exact) and I felt empty. For a book that is so unstoppably 100-miles per hour throughout, this ending felt like a complete juxtaposition to the rest of the book. But in its dread-filled final few pages, this ultimately works to highlight what has come before it.

Not only this, but Chapman is successful in writing a properly entertaining, horrifying, gut-roiling piece of horror fiction. I’m a massive fan of the Descent Into Madness “trope” (as it turns out) and this is hands down one of the best books to showcase this. Clay’s masterful ability to weave in subtle hints, subconscious repetition, visceral violence and a fully cinematic vivid style of storytelling (despite the brilliantly bonkers choices he makes throughout in the telling of this story), is one that I myself think is genius level. There were moments in this that I was genuinely cringing (in a good way!), I didn’t want to turn the page because I knew what was going to happen even if the characters didn’t. There’s a scene – let’s just say a family meal – that honestly had my heart racing. I was reading that moment at work and I had to get up from my desk and walk around outside and shake my hands just to dispel some energy. The horror in this book is magnificent, and if Clay’s other works are as downright creepy as this, then I can’t wait to read them!

A quick aside – I myself am trying (and sometimes winning, sometimes failing) to write my own stuff, primarily horror as, after years of trying my hand at various fantasy projects, I found I was better at writing horror. Plus I enjoy the emotional reaction I have in its creation. This book is one that will stay with me in terms of influence. I feel like I should have the confidence to make those bold statements, those daring narrative decisions, and take that plunge, thanks to this book. It’s books like this that make me want to put the hard work in even if I’m tired, deflated, defeated. I experience books like this and it makes me want to be a writer and a creative. Art is important. So thank you Clay for giving me the conviction and validity and belief that my own stories matter.

I feel like I have to leave this review here. I could easily wax lyrical for another 1000, 2000, 5000 words, but by then it would just be rambling incoherent praise. Simply put, this is the best book I’ve read in the past few years, is one of the most relevant books of modern times – it should be a WAKE UP call to everyone that reads this. It’s a book that OPENED MY EYES to things that I knew was happening, but was simply too cowardly to face. This book is brilliant, masterful, genius, and simply put, one of my favourite books of all time.

Also – fuck you Clay. You know what you did. #JFR

Synopsis

And Lucifer said: “Let us rise against Him now in all our numbers, and pull the walls of heaven down…”

The year is 1348. Thomas, a disgraced knight, has found a young girl alone in a dead Norman village. An orphan of the Black Death, and an almost unnerving picture of innocence, she tells Thomas that plague is only part of a larger cataclysm—that the fallen angels under Lucifer are rising in a second war on heaven, and that the world of men has fallen behind the lines of conflict.

Is it delirium or is it faith? She believes she has seen the angels of God. She believes the righteous dead speak to her in dreams. And now she has convinced the faithless Thomas to shepherd her across a depraved landscape to Avignon. There, she tells Thomas, she will fulfill her mission: to confront the evil that has devastated the earth, and to restore to this betrayed, murderous knight the nobility and hope of salvation he long abandoned.

As hell unleashes its wrath, and as the true nature of the girl is revealed, Thomas will find himself on a macabre battleground of angels and demons, saints, and the risen dead, and in the midst of a desperate struggle for nothing less than the soul of man.

Review

Recently, I woke up and decided that I really wanted to read a book that is full of colour, joy, light-heartedness and low stakes. So, obviously, I decided to start reading Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman, the medieval Black Plague era set cross-genre travelogue about a disgraced knight, a drunken priest, and a girl of pure heart, as they travel across a ravaged France on a quest from seemingly a higher power. Along the way, they’ll encounter horrific monsters, festering pestilence, and terrible, terrible people. Of course, I jest. I knew this book was going to be dark, and it was deliciously so.

But it will be harder for you if you remember. Love is always harder. Love means weathering blows for another’s sake and not counting them. Love is loss of self, loss of other, and faith in the death of loss.

Let’s cut the awful jokes and get straight to brass tacks: Between Two Fires is a great book. For me, it’s very much like a meaty lasagne. There so many layers to this novel that Buehlman weaves together effortlessly, much like how he blends together the horror, historical fiction and fantasy genres in a manner that feels natural. It’s a very atmospheric novel. I really felt the grit and grime of its medieval setting, the stink of the cities, the mud of the countryside, the rot that slowly permeates throughout its pages as we watch this world decline more and more into a nightmare hellscape. Whilst I’m by no means a learned historian, there was enough historical research included for myself to lend it an air of authenticity which only boosted its twisted atmosphere, yet it does not feel archaic. Instead, the characters and values of this period feel like they have been coated with a modern lens understandable to us nowadays, but never shying away from the faults of this era. Between Two Fires is also a novel steeped in symbolism. There’s not a chapter that goes by that doesn’t add some imagery or allegory, whether it be in relation directly to the characters, overall themes of the story (which include redemption, corruption, faith & forgiveness), or some allusion to religious understanding or mythical beliefs of the time. I’m a pretty stupid person, so some of these went over my head, but to say that I haven’t been finding myself down rabbits holes exploring what smarter people than me have discovered within this book would be a lie. It’s fascinating to explore these interpretations, and it recontextualises many of the bigger moments once you make the connections.

The book itself has a very distinct writing style. I likened it to reading Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, in a sense that this feels like its been bled from the same experimental vein. I felt like it had this very matter-of-fact style of narration, which makes reading the more “mundane” parts feel very grounded, very real. (Mundane is the wrong word to be using. I suppose I mean the more “normal”, but how can I describe a time that is as abnormal as Middle Ages Black Plague Europe using that word?) But then when we move into the moments of madness, of feverish delirium, this style only highlights the wrongness that the characters themselves can’t quite describe or comprehend, but Buehlman does understand these forces of darkness and presents them to us unfiltered. The dialogue heavy interaction between our main trio in particular reads like the script of a play. With very few dialogue tags, and little stage direction where other authors would have included this, its up to the reader to relate themselves to each character in the moment.

Praise has to go to the horror elements, of which they were plentiful and brilliantly depicted. The way that Christopher employs the “less is more” approach (and not the way that Lovecraft does where he just says that something is too horrible to describe and then doesn’t say anything else) and merely hints at the horrors that the characters face is great, leaving room for the reader to fill in the blanks with their own web of awful imagery. I desperately wish I could talk about these elements in more detail, but that would be spoiling the surprises (and the creeps!) for you all.

The scariest part, however, was how the book was set in France!

The injuries of spring are forgotten in the summer, but remembered in the winter.

With all this said, no book would worth its salt unless the characters and character work is up to par, and I’m happy to say that Buehlman delivers in this area too. If you’re a fan of the seminal PlayStation mushroom-‘em-up The Last of Us, you’ll find a lot to love in the relationship between the knight & the girl. Beginning the journey as two people that are reluctantly slammed together after a tumultuous first meeting – and really only sticking together to serve their own wants – following both of their arcs throughout the terrible events that befall them is simply gripping, wholly satisfying, and expertly told, feeling like a natural progression of broken people with their better selves finally breaking through after cracking the shell they’ve encased themselves within. I also don’t think that it’s said enough that this book can, at times, be quite funny. A number of character interactions left me chuckling away. In a bleak book such as this, these moments of levity help to humanise those portrayed. I generally say that if a books character work has me caring about the cast, then that’s the mark of a good book. If it has me crying (or tearing up), then that’s the mark of a great one!

This pestilence cooked away pretense and showed people’s souls, as surely as it eventually showed their bones.

In just one novel, Christopher Buehlman cements himself as an author that I’d consider to be of exceptional talent, and one with who’s other works I’m excited to jump into (notably his latest fantasy releases, The Blacktongue Thief & it’s follow up prequel, The Daughter’s War). This is a novel that can be enjoyed by fans of historical fiction, horror, and fantasy. It’s a dark, dank, depressing and dreadful experience, yet one so thoroughly riveting, visceral and, ultimately, hopeful. I can’t recommend this enough!

Synopsis

An Astra Militarum Novel

Cadia. This proud world stood defiant for centuries – a bulwark against the forces of Chaos residing in the Eye of Terror. All of this would change when it was targeted for destruction by Abaddon the Despoiler as part of his Thirteenth Black Crusade.

READ IT BECAUSE

The Fall of Cadia is a touchstone moment of the Warhammer 40,000 timeline. This incredible battle led to the opening of the Great Rift and ushered in a grim new era in which even greater threats assailed the Imperium.

THE STORY

Cadia licks its wounds in the wake of the Thirteenth Black Crusade. The heretic forces retreat on all fronts. The day is won. But Lord Castellan Creed cannot rest easy. Something tells him the assault was a mere prelude to something greater, something more final. He is right. Out of the Eye of Terror comes Abaddon the Despoiler, at the head of a warhost unmatched in scale since the dread days of the Horus Heresy.

In the face of the looming apocalypse, Creed must weld the champions of Cadia into a bulwark capable of withstanding Abaddon’s fury. And in orbit, the Despoiler himself finds his own alliance teetering on a knife edge…

This is a tale told at epic scale, from the tables of high command to the slaughter of the pylon fields, and with a huge cast of characters from self-styled demigods to the rank-and-file foot soldiers of the Imperium.

This is the story of Abaddon’s greatest conquest. This is Cadia’s last stand.

Review

Robert Rath proves himself in one (admittedly, pretty thicc!) book that he is easily among the top tier echelon of 40K authors on the scene right now. Juggling many multiple POVs plus an extended cast, several plot threads introduced not just in this book but threads originating from campaign books, White Dwarf articles, and years worth of titbits of lore, whilst also telling one of the biggest stories in modern Warhammer 40,000 history, it’s really impressive to see that this book excels in telling such a gripping sci-fi epic.

So let’s get into why I think this is one of the best 40k books of the past 10 years.

The Fall of Cadia tells the story of, well, the fall of Cadia. For non-40k people, Cadia is a highly-militaristic planet that guards the Imperium against the demonic forces of Chaos that threaten to spill out of the Eye of Terror, a rent in the fabric of space & time. Cadia has been a staple of this vast setting for a good number of years now, and this very event is the catalyst for the direction in which the current narrative canon of Warhammer 40,00 has taken. It’s almost like a BC/AD type thing. In this grand sweeping story we follow not just the Imperial Guards (aka the boots on the ground soldiers), but also their Leaders; we follow fighter pilots, Space Marines, Battle Sisters of the Adepta Sororitas, even traitorous, demon-twisted members of the 13th Black Crusade. And Rath manages to handle this vast cast with aplomb. Every POV is unique from each other, every character with their own personalities, depth, and importance to the narrative. I think one the greatest things you could do with POV characters is make them so recognisable that if you were to hide any mention of their name, you’d still be able to tell who is who, and this is very much the case here. He also handles the reoccurring characters (like Abaddon the Despoiler & Ursarkar E. Creed) really well, knowing what makes them tick and who they are as characters deeply. His portrayal of Abaddon in particular was brilliant! Abbadon is a great antagonist and in this book he is a truly terrifying force of Chaos power.

With the character work being so well done, it’s also great to know that this is a well plotted, well paced, and cinematically written story. The entire time I was reading this, I had such a vivid image in my head of what was happening; the brutality of the 40K setting can very go understated, and this particular battle/war is viscerally depicted. Rath lets you feel the crack of lasfire, the crunch of tank tracks on destroyed ground, the chaotic nature of all-out violence. It reads like a high-budget epic TV series, the kind of thing that sells subscriptions and is appointment viewing. I was so invested in this book, despite the fact that I knew the ultimate outcome of it all, and yet found the final third to be harrowing, emotional, and rousing. Throughout The Fall of Cadia, you get moments of comradery between the Imperial Guard – TWENTY-FOUR, IN THE WAR – or the defiant chant of an entire planets population – CADIA STANDS! – it’s enough to feel you with the same sense of defiant resistance against impossible odds you experience with great movies like Braveheart, Saving Private Ryan, Gladiator etc. There is a poem that gets recited on a number of occasions throughout this book, but I think the opening sums up what I think this book is really showcasing:

This is not a foxhole.
This is the rich earth of my world.
Dirt I threw in handfuls on the coffins of troopers that came before me.
Those who stood in the ranks on the bastion wall, lasgun in hand, And told the Eye it would not have our future.

As much as I loved this book, however, I would say it is definitely boosted by my love of the setting in general. I knew a lot of lore surrounding this going into it, and how this event affected the broad setting as a whole in the future. It does sort of expect you to know a bit about what’s going on beforehand – so if you’re new to the setting, maybe do some homework first – but if I don’t think you’d miss out on much.

I must also give a shout out to the incredible audiobook narration by David Seddon, who manages to add another layer of drama by giving one of my favourite performances of an audiobook I’ve ever listened to. His range of accents (all the Cadians sound like they are from the North East of England, yet the differences are subtle and masterfully vocalised so as to suggest Teeside, Northumberland, Newcastle, as opposed to just a the broader “Gerodie” cadance), vocal effects, and passion for the material on offer really shines through.

So, anyway, as you can tell, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The Fall of Cadia is a must read for all Warhammer 40,000 fans, a book I think should be read by sci-fi enthusiasts in general, and it’s a book that has skyrocketed to becoming one of my favourite 40K books I’ve ever read!

Synopsis

A mindbending and visceral experimental horror about a young man trapped in an infinite Montreal subway station, perfect for readers of Mark Z. Danielewski and Susanna Clarke.

Vicken has a plan: throw himself into the Saint Lawrence River in Montreal and end it all for good, believing it to be the only way out for him after a lifetime of depression and pain. But, stepping off the subway, he finds himself in an endless, looping station.

Determined to find a way out again, he starts to explore the rooms and corridors ahead of him. But no matter how many claustrophobic hallways or vast cathedral-esque rooms he passes through, the exit is nowhere in sight.

The more he explores his strange new prison, the more he becomes convinced that he hasn’t been trapped there accidentally, and amongst the shadows and concrete, he comes to realise that he almost certainly is not alone.

A terrifying psychological nightmare from a powerful new voice in horror.

Review

With only 24 hours left of 2024, I decided to try and fit in one extra little story. So, I pulled this little novella off my shelves and proceeded to consume it in one sitting.

This story took me completely by surprise. What I found behind the very satisfying looking grey tone and red brutalist cover was a tale written very much in a stream of consciousness manner, a tale that was wholly a descent into the dark places of the depressed mind. Following Vickan as they find themselves stuck in an endless twisting subway station, filled with the brutalist architecture and lifeless design one expects from these liminal spaces, we take this journey through purgatory with them and discovery a number of surprising turns along the way.

“Yet, despite all that, I sometimes relapse into hope. Just as Orpheus, just as Lot’s wife, at times I turn, as a result of sudden, mad temptation for the lust of life, of love, of remembering, and look back upon living with fondness, and embrace uncertainty.”

What I immediately latched on to was the imagery and metaphor of this endless subway station. This sprawling, unending labyrinth of grey concrete, grey stairwells and even greyer moods. Sofia punctuates this dull, never ending maze with moments of shocking body horror and visercal brutality, almost dreamlike (no, nightmareish) in their description.

Don’t expect this one to be plot twists, sweeping character arcs, and exciting action; that simply isn’t what Coup de Grâce is. Instead, it is a deep exploration of the effects of depression, suicide, loneliness, aimlessness, regret, capitalism, the futility of life. And what Sofia does in short 135 pages is remarkable. As someone that knows what even a mild state of bad mental health can do to oneself, reading this was both deflating yet also strangely uplifting. Through Vicken’s tunnel vision caused by his mental health, I found myself being able to see the light that he simply couldn’t. The final 30 pages were my absolute favourite, and what Ajram does with the narrative and the techniques he employs really hit home.

“Trauma does not always carry big battle wounds. Sometimes it appears in the broad daylight of cold wars fought in silence.”

I will say, however, read this when you are in a good mood. There are moments in this that I related to, either through my own experience or through those I love, and these moments were so REAL that I could feel myself replaying my experiences in my head.

Overall, I found this to be a brilliant piece of speculative horror! Genuinely mind-bending, and “enjoyable” – if that’s even the word you should be using for something like this – to the point that I very eagerly anticipate the next piece of art that Sofia Ajram produces!