Category: Fiction Page 48 of 314

DETAILS:
Publisher: Knopf
Publication Date: February 14, 2023
Format: eARC
Length: 464 pg.
Read Date: January 23-31, 2023

So, you can tell from the title of this post, that this is not a happy tale. The other big hint along those lines is the author’s name. I’m sure that Tiffany McDaniel is perfectly capable of writing a fun romp of a novel—I just have no evidence that she’s interested in doing so.

When you do see her name on a cover, you know a few things going in—the book is going to feature some sort of childhood trauma; the beautifully stylized dialogue (that doesn’t even pretend to be realistic); and prose that can only be described as gorgeous.

Everything else may differ from book to book, but the above are pretty much a given at this point.

What’s On the Savage Side About?

We meet 6-year-old twin sisters Arc and Daffy on the day their father died. Believe it or not, this is likely the best their life is going to be for the rest of this book. They spend most of their childhood in a home with their mother and aunt (I’m very carefully not saying they were raised by their mother and aunt), prostitutes who spend what little money they have on drugs—heroin, primarily. There are brief periods where the children are taken care of by their grandmother—who is kind, loving, and able to take care of them—but those are brief.

We see them age—struggling to separate themselves from their mother and aunt, and eventually following in their footsteps in addiction and profession. As adults, Arc’s focus is her (more fragile) sister’s safety and well-being. It’s because of Daffy that she finds a rehab facility, there’s a (probable) serial killer out there leaving women’s bodies in the river, and Arc is determined to not let Daffy become the next. Hopefully, she can prevent her friends from being the next, too.

Interspersed with chapters describing their lives (with some time jumping involved), we get some selections from their mother’s diary—back when she was capable of keeping one. We see her struggle with addiction and knowing the danger she poses to her daughters (and I was so glad when the book gave us that—it was the first maternal action I saw from her, but we didn’t get to see it for a long time).

We also get chapters describing the point-of-view of the river that flows near their town. How it reacts to being where the bodies of women are discarded, along with its thoughts on other things as well. It’s these chapters—particularly early on—that give the novel its depth and perspective. It feels to me like those chapters are McDaniels speaking with the least amount of artifice. The river feels like her voice unfiltered through the devices she uses the rest of the time.

Chillicothe, Ohio

Until I started this book, I knew Chillicothe, Ohio as the birthplace of Archie Goodwin of Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe books. I half-assumed it was a fictional location, and never bothered to look it up. Now I know that it exists, and I’m going to have a hard time reestablishing the positive associations I had with the name. It feels like a great place to be from, not a great place to be. I’m sure that it’s a perfectly fine place in reality, but the small city does not come across very well in these pages.

So, what did I think about On the Savage Side?

This was just a brutal read. Every time you get a glimmer of hope, a glimmer of a feeling that things might be okay for some of these characters—something snuffs it out. But there’s another source right around the corner. But, to go back to that line from the novel I borrowed above—the book is full of funerals for dreams.

But there’s beauty in the darkness. And a drive to keep persevering shared by the reader and the characters. I wondered more than once why some of them kept trying—but they did. The mother of one of Arc’s adult friends is a strong vision of enduring love and hope—she’s always ready to help her daughter no matter how tight the grip of addiction is on her at the time. She’s always trying, always striving to give her daughter the care she needs—even when (especially when) there’s no reason to think it’ll do any good.

I mentioned a serial killer above—it’s not a serial killer novel, though. It’s a novel about the women that may be his target and their fears about it. But people looking for a Thomas Harris read will be disappointed. Actually, people looking for most things you find in typical novels will be disappointed. Many of the looming questions in our characters’ lives are left unanswered. But you don’t walk away frustrated that you don’t get the answers like you would from other novels—because we’re given answers to questions we never thought to ask. Some of those are more important, too.

Like always, Tiffany McDaniels delivered a book that’s going to stay in my subconscious for a while—lurking there, making me rethink what I read from time to time. It’ll probably stay there until her next novel comes along (Betty‘s been there for a couple of years, and really only was dislodged by this one—and The Summer that Melted Everything is still there all these years later). It’s somber, it’s sober, and it’s difficult to read. But it’s so worth it in ways I cannot adequately explain. It’ll make you think. It’ll make you feel.

I’m having a hard time articulating exactly why you should read this without getting into the details—if you’ve read McDaniels before, you know what I’m saying. If you haven’t—it’s time to.

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Knopf via NetGalley in exchange for this post—thanks to both for this.

4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

The Ballad of Bonaduke—Episode 14: Consequence by R. T. Slaywood: Walking Quickly but Treading Water

By HCNewton

On February 3, 2023

In Urban Fantasy

The Ballad of Bonaduke—
Episode 14: Consequence

by R.T. Slaywood

DETAILS:
Series: The Ballad of Bonaduke, #12
Format: Kindle Vella Story
Read Date: February 2, 2023

The Story So Far…

A drunken Michael Bonaduke decides to use a grift (with maybe some sort of magic/magic-like “help”) to win on a scratch-off lottery ticket so he has money to buy more to drink. He pulls off whatever he did, gets his money and some booze and stumbles off into the darkness to drink himself into oblivion so he can start again the next day. He’s hit by dark memories (probably what’s driving him to the drinking) of fire, pleading, and screaming. There’s going to be a price to pay for his grift, and he’s trying to be ready.

Before then, he gets himself drunk and we get some of his tragic backstory. As he ponders this, he decides to use some of his ill-gotten-gains to buy more booze and walks into a liquor store robbery. He foils it in some sort of magical fashion, gets some more to drink, and heads off to the park to drink until he’s arrested (probably for the failed robbery). At least that’s his plan, but it gets interrupted by being hit by a car. He wakes up on some sort of short, metal bed and is unsure what’s going on. It turns out that some group is subjecting him to a test—if he passes, everything will be explained to him (and hopefully the reader, too). He passes—and is brought somewhere for answers, or maybe training, or maybe another test. Time will tell (or things are going to get really annoying). Answers aren’t quick to come—but the mysteries and questions keep piling up.

What’s Consequence About?

Bonaduke finds himself in front of the liquor store and sees some cops nearby. The last thing he wants is to be connected with the events he witnessed (but can’t prove he didn’t do)—so he tries to subtly walk away quickly. He also becomes convinced that he needs to get rid of the $5 bill he picked up from the liquor store thanks to his grift. That doesn’t work so well.

So, what did I think about Consequence?

This is another filler episode where not much (anything) happens. I’m getting really tired of these. It’s hard to have an opinion about treading water. I feel shallow complaining about this, but…

2 Stars

The Perception of Dolls by Anthony Croix, Edited by Russell Day: Creepy Dolls, Creepy dolls, and Creepy do!!s

By HCNewton

On January 31, 2023

In Fiction, Russell Day

I did a lousy job on this…I’m just not capable of discussing this book properly. But I gave it a shot, though.

The Perception Of Dolls

by Anthony Croix, Edited by Russell Day

DETAILS:
Publisher: Fahrenheit Press
Publication Date: December 2, 2023
Format: Hardcover
Length: 277 pg.
Read Date: January 16-19, 2023

What’s The Perception Of Dolls About?

There’s no way to simply talk about this book. Period. So this is going to take a bit, bear with me. Let’s start with this from the Publisher’s site:

“It’s almost as if history is trying to erase the whole affair.” – Anthony Croix

The triple murder and failed suicide that took place at 37 Fantoccini Street in 2001, raised little media interest at the time. In a week heavy with global news, a ‘domestic tragedy’ warranted few column inches. The case was open and shut, the inquest was brief and the ‘Doll Murders’ – little more than a footnote in the ledgers of Britain’s true crime enthusiasts – were largely forgotten.

Nevertheless, investigations were made, police files generated, testimonies recorded, and conclusions reached. The reports are there, a matter of public record, for those with a mind to look.

The details of what took place in Fantoccini Street in the years that followed are less accessible. The people involved in the field trips to number 37 are often unwilling, or unable, to talk about what they witnessed. The hours of audio recordings, video tapes, written accounts, photographs, drawings, and even online postings are elusive, almost furtive.

In fact, were it not for a chance encounter between the late Anthony Croix and an obsessive collector of Gothic dolls, the Fantoccini Street Reports might well have been lost forever.

But that’s not all—the late Anthony Croix was an independent journalist, and from that encounter with the doll collector, he gets on the trail of 37 Fantoccini Street and what happened there—from the murders to the repeated trips by students from London North University looking into paranormal activity on the site.

Croix conducted those interviews with those from the visits who were still alive and capable of being interviewed, and wrote up descriptions of the photographs and videos (he wasn’t permitted to copy them or use them in his final work), compiling all this into a book that he was unable to finish before his death.

Enter Russell Day who took the notes and drafts compiled by Croix and assembled them into a (mostly) publishable form. (that’s not a knock on Day’s work, he did what he could to honor Croix’s particular style)

Reading a Documentary

Back in junior high/high school, I remember watching documentaries and documentary-style TV shows about paranormal investigations and unsolved crimes. This reads a lot like one of those. Those would feature a lot of intercut interviews telling the story—some contradicting the others—with a little, but not too much voice-over narration stitching them together. There’d also be some questionable photographs and some dark video clips that are hard to see a whole lot of detail in.

That’s pretty much what The Perception Of Dolls is—just in book form. It’s surprisingly effective—it doesn’t take a whole lot of imagination on the part of the reader to “see” the whole thing. Yeah, the format of interview transcripts and descriptions of the visuals are pretty bare-boned, but you’ll find yourself supplying all the necessary details with almost no prompting from the text.

When Style is Not a Style

Whether I’ve discussed a short story or a novel by Day, one of the things I inevitably talk the most about is his style.

None of that is evident here. Not one bit. As I said, this reads as dryly as a transcript of a documentary—which is exactly what Day was going for. The absence of style is as much work—if not much more—than Day’s typically flashy and gorgeous styles.

“Dry” doesn’t mean dull—not for a second. Day dives so far into the persona of Croix—eliding obscenities, odd typography, purposefully including typos, sentence fragments, etc. that the text of the novel itself becomes a character as vibrant as any of the others.

So, what did I think about The Perception Of Dolls?

So…when I first saw this advertised, I didn’t think this would be my cup of tea—it’s not really a genre I’m all that fond of, and rarely want to try. But then I remembered that the genre of “Things written by Russell Day” is definitely one of my favorites, so I went for it.

I’m so glad that I tried this.

Objectively, I’d say that there’s little reason on the page to feel unease, dread, anxiety, or much of anything actually. But because of the subject matter and/or the way that the story is told—I don’t see how you don’t feel dread, anxiety, and a growing sense of creepiness throughout. The last photograph described by Croix is going to stick with me a little longer than I’m comfortable with, I’ve got to say. It’s impossible to say what precisely happened—at almost any point the book describes—at 37 Fantoccini Street or with some of the related events, but something’s not right about that place. Everything that ever happened there needs to be narrated by Robert Stack.*

* I don’t know if that will mean anything to anyone who wasn’t watching U.S. TV in the late 1980s, but I assure you, it’s an apt observation.

Okay, I take that back—there’s objectively at least one scene that should make any reader feel creeped out and possibly anxious. Croix gets to view the doll collector’s collection. If imagining 897 dolls of various types and conditions in one room (I’ll leave the details to the book) doesn’t give you the heebie-jeebies, you should seek professional help.

Everything in this book is unreliable—the narratives in the newspapers from the original killings were only printed in a newspaper that doesn’t exist anymore, and the photographs from that story—or anytime after that, are only described. Even a documentary related to murder is of dubious quality. You’ll find plenty to question in the witness accounts of what happened—particularly when they differ (and, yes, I’m sure they’re all lying—it’s tough to decide which one is lying when). The reader is given plenty of reasons throughout to wonder about Anthony Croix’s accuracy—and there appear to be pages missing from his manuscript that could change our understanding of the whole thing. All of which serves to increase my general feelings of unease about the whole narrative.

Near the end of the book, Croix is talking about someone he interacted with a lot saying they’re a perfect “reflector”

of the overarching story of number 37. Facts present themselves but offer no revelations and produce questions, not answers.

That’s precisely what this book delivers—and it does so in a way that even people who demand a lot of resolution from a story can be satisfied with it. I wondered more than once what I’d end up thinking about this book as I walked through it, I was uncertain most of the time I spent reading. But the last few chapters solidified things for me. And the days I’ve spent afterward thinking about the whole thing make me even more sure—it’s one of those books that gets better the more you think about it—I’m dazzled by this book. I’m not in awe—and I certainly didn’t enjoy most of it (if by enjoy you mean “had fun while reading”). But I was hooked. I was captivated. I was (at least momentarily) obsessed with it.

5 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

Lost in the Moment and Found by Seanan McGuire: Nothing Comes Free

By HCNewton

On January 26, 2023

In Fantasy, Fiction, Seanan McGuire, Wayward Children

Lost in the Moment and Found

by Seanan McGuire

DETAILS:
Series: Wayward Children, #8
Publisher: Tordotcom
Publication Date: January 10, 2023
Format: Hardcover
Length:  146 pg.
Read Date: January 12-13, 2023

This ended up being one of those books that I could say almost nothing about or could just as easily have said far too much about. It took me a week and a half just to figure out—I hope—the way to strike the balance.

What’s Lost in the Moment and Found About?

Antoinette (known as Antsy) is a little girl whose life is shattered when her father dies unexpectedly. Her mother quickly remarries for security and her stepfather is the stuff of nightmares. He dismantles her idyllic-sounding childhood, almost removing her from the family. When darker (much darker) things loom, Antsy runs away.

Naturally—well, supernaturally—as this is a Wayward Children book, she’s soon presented with a Door. She steps through it, as sure as someone who isn’t even ten can be. And enters a shop. Unusually for this series, she’s not in a new world—but a shop. The Shop Where the Lost Things Go to be precise.

The shop is managed by an old woman named Vineta and a very large (and talking) magpie named Hudson. In addition to the Shop being the place that Lost Things go—those that are needed by their owners can come be retrieved. There is a Door in the Shop that Antsy can open to other worlds (Antsy’s door, and that of those coming to Find something, appears in a different location)—there’s never any telling what world will be on the other side of the Door. If it looks appealing, Vineta and Antsy will go through and purchase some things to sell in the Shop (and feed themselves), otherwise Antsy will close the door and try again.

At some point, Antsy begins finding ominous notes trying to tell her something—will she figure out what the notes are trying to tell her in time?

Worldbuilding

One of the more entertaining things—for me, anyway—about this series is hearing about worlds that we don’t get to spend time in (or more than a quick glimpse, anyway). Just a brief mention along the way to some other point, and you get to fuel your imagination for a bit. Given this setting—and the way the Shop flits between worlds for Antsy and Vineta to go pick up stock, Lost in the Moment and Found is rife in these glimpses, hints of what else is out there. I had so much fun with that—McGuire’s really created a universe for these stories where she can indulge any whim she has for storytelling and it’d work.

But that’s not really what I wanted to talk about.

This entry would be a worthwhile read for fans if only for this one thing—we learn more about the Doors and how they work. I’m not going to go into it, obviously, nor am I going to promise that every question you had about the Doors will be answered—actually you’ll likely end up with new questions, but they’ll be informed questions.

Depth of Darkness

On the whole, this series hasn’t featured “bad guys”—largely, the antagonists have been people with competing visions for the way things ought to be. People who were trying their best, but who couldn’t understand their children (before and/or after their door)—and so on. A lot of people you don’t want to be around and you don’t want to see have much success as they are, but typically it’s possible to see where they’re coming from and why they do what they do (as much as you might object to it).

But in this book? There are a minimum of two evil characters. People that need to be stopped, and you sort of wish Toby Daye would make a cameo and do what she does best.

McGuire’s painted some bleak circumstances for her Wayward Children—but this seems bleaker (I haven’t spent a lot of time reviewing the older books, so I’m prepared to be corrected) and darker than we’re used to. There’s a period where you can forget that, where it almost feels like Antsy is out for a very long lark and everything will be a fun adventure.

I don’t know if this is a turning point and that we’ll see more books like this in the years to come. I doubt it—I think this is a story that needed to be told, but we’ll be back on more familiar ground—with a more familiar tone—soon.

So, what did I think about Lost in the Moment and Found?

This is clearly a personal story of McGuire (just read the Author’s note that precedes the text) and there’s a rawness to the writing that isn’t typical for this series (or McGuire, period). But it’s oh, so fitting.

I find myself slipping into misconceptions about this series—I enjoy the characters (so many of our protagonists are just loveable), the concept behind the series and West’s school, and so on—it’s easy to remember the nonsense worlds, the joy that characters frequently experience in finding a Door, going home, or leaving home that you forget that almost everyone goes through a Door from our world to get away from something. When I pause to write something like this or describe the series/a particular novella to someone—all of that comes rushing back. Only to be forgotten again until I start reading the next book.* Antsy’s situation is perhaps the most disturbing we’ve seen—and what she ultimately finds in the shop is equally (but in a very different way) unsettling.

* I hope I’m not alone in that, but I have to assume the rest of you are more careful in your reading/remembering.

The novella is not all dire and troubling—there’s a lot of fun to be had as we follow Antsy. The quick excursion to the lost animal department could’ve filled a novella or two. The reader might see some old friends out of the corner of their eye, too. Most importantly, there is hope. That last line is earned (as we’re told time and time again, nothing comes free), and is so reassuring.

Unsurprisingly, I recommend this book—unlike most in the series, I don’t think this would serve as a good entry point. It’s a good number 8 (these are all novellas, so reading eight of them isn’t that big of an investment). It’s raw, it’s unsettling (at the very least), it’s emotional, and it’s full of some of McGuire’s best prose. I’m sure those who’ve read 1-2 (or all seven) others don’t need me to say this, you’ve probably already read them. But for everyone else, it’s time to start reading these books.

4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

The Ballad of Bonaduke—Episode 13: Realizations by R. T. Slaywood: Right Back Where We Started From

By HCNewton

On January 20, 2023

In Urban Fantasy

The Ballad of Bonaduke—
Episode 13: Realizations

by R.T. Slaywood

DETAILS:
Series: The Ballad of Bonaduke, #12
Format: Kindle Vella Story
Read Date: December 2, 2022

While previously, just seconds before, I had resented her for disappearing, I now resented the fact that I feared whatever she had become.

Just say vampire.

The Story So Far…

What’s Realizations About?

Bonaduke rushes out, trying to catch up with his sister-in-law to get some more answers, but can’t find her. Then he realizes that he forgot to get dressed post-shower. When he gets back to the apartment, he’s alone. He gets dressed and decides to get out while he can—who needs answers when you can get away from the weirdness? He eventually finds himself back at the liquor store we started this story.

So, what did I think about Realizations ?

Eh…I’m of two minds. First—this makes total sense. You’ve got yourself a guy bent on self-destruction—and has been for years. Sure, there’s all this stuff going on around him that he’d like to understand. But more importantly, he’s got a chance to get away from it all and find a new bottle to disappear into. Obviously, what’s behind Door Number 2 sounds better.

On the other hand, in addition to fingers, you’ve got my perennial frustration at the lack of answers. At this point, it almost feels like Slaywood is just stringing us along. I’m pretty sure that if I read this as one story/novella/whatever rather than in installments, I wouldn’t feel this way and it’d all flow nicely. But as an episodic read, I’m unconvinced.

Still, I want answers, so I’ll be back.

3 Stars

REPOSTING JUST CUZ: The King of the Crows by Russell Day: Prescient. Gripping. Haunting. Unpredictable. What stories should be.

By HCNewton

On January 19, 2023

In Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Russell Day

Things have gotten away from me today, so I don’t have anything new to share. But I’ve been thinking a lot about this book this week (I think about this book frequently, to be honest, but several times a day this week), so I figured I’d try to get others thinking about it, too. If you haven’t read this yet, you should strongly consider doing so, as I argue below. Incidentally, re-reading this now serves as a really good argument for me to adopt the current format of my posts using section headers and whatnot (I’d been rethinking them last week, but after this post? They’re sticking around)

King of the Crows

by Russell Day

Kindle Edition, 456 pg.
Fahrenheit Press, 2020

Read: April 28-May 9, 2020

… for me at least, the first week of the Lockdown was the worst.

Knowing it had happened to me. I hadn’t escaped, I wasn’t one of the lucky ones. Lucky to be safe or lucky to be dead. Take your pick. I was neither.

That right there gives you a pretty good idea what kind of light and fluffy read this is going to be.

There are two timelines in this story—the primary focuses on a post-pandemic London, while the other shows what happened to a couple of the characters mid-pandemic (with plenty of material describing what the pandemic was like for others). In the primary timeline, Europe is a disaster—a “wasteland”—and eight years after the Outbreak, it’s beginning to put itself back together. But it’s going to take a long, long time to recover from this. Don’t let the fact that “eight years after” this fictional outbreak is 2028 bother you at all.*

* Good luck with that. I’ll get back to this in a bit.

I’m not going to try to list all the various ways that Day uses to tell this story: I’m certainly going to forget several. So here’s a partial list: here’s a third-person 2028 narrator describing a police investigation, a first-person perspective on the same investigation; a first-person account of that same detective’s life during the Outbreak; selections from a screenplay made about a group of Londoners during the Outbreak; selections from the Outbreak-memoir of one of those Londoners; and third-person narration of the same (N.B.: these three will vary in telling ways); redacted 2028 prison correspondence about the Outbreak; excerpts from scholarly works on aspects of the Outbreak (including a very illuminating work on the slang of the time); graffiti from 2021; internet message boards. Day weaves these together to tell his story, build the world, and help you to understand it. Frequently, I read something from the 2028 timeline, and understood it—only to find a new depth to it several pages later after getting another piece of the puzzle from 2020/2021. It’s hard to juggle that many narrative forms/voices/perspectives/calendars as a reader or a writer—Day pulled it off better than I did (any problems I had following things I attribute to myself, and it was pretty easy to clear out my misunderstanding with a minimum of backtracking*). It definitely helps paint the picture of the scope and variety of effects the sickness had on the world more efficiently than a consistent first- or third-person narrative would be able to.

* This would be easier in hardcopy than on an e-reader in my opinion. But that’s just a guess.

There are times (several of them) when I felt that the characters were getting lost amongst the plot and worldbuilding and sickness. But when I stopped and thought about it—and eventually got to the point where I didn’t have to—I realized I had a pretty solid idea about who these people were and was more invested in them than I expected. I thought there was so much going on that the people were getting hidden, but really, Day’s work was subtle—working in the characters into my subconscious like you give a dog its medicine. Normally, this isn’t something I require (or would like)—and it’s not Day’s usual M. O. (quite the opposite), but I think this approach really fit the novel and the story/world.

“They weren’t zombies,” he says, softly. “Don’t call them zombies.”

No one who was involved in the Outbreak for real uses the zee word.

So exactly what was the sickness?

I remember reading a couple of years ago about these ants that would succumb to a fungus which would short-circuit their brain and make them do certain things before killing them—or something like that, vague memories here. Then there were stories about parasites controlling the host’s actions—both of these stories had their 15 seconds of fame on social media around the same time (I may be messing the details up a little bit, but I’m not writing history here).

In Day’s world, one of these kinds of parasites will reside—asymptomatically, I should stress—in cats, who would pass it on to humans. Skipping the details, the humans would get very sick and then, survivors would maybe succumb to a psychosis that would make them violent. This sickness, HV-Tg (Human Variant-Toxo gondii), in a little more than a year would kill more than 20 million in Europe (at least 33% of France’s population) Et voilà!—an easy to believe pandemic that results in Zombie-like people wandering around.

Now, if one of those who’d “switched” and become violent infected you during an assault, well, you were likely to succumb. There were enough of these (“psychos” or “Gonzos”), and the sickness was so widespread, that the police and military couldn’t keep up, that civilians were forced to take action and defend themselves, their family and neighbors. People quickly forming into gang-like associations for mutual protection. It was a literal kill-or-be-infected (and likely killed) situation.

One such association became known as The Crows or The Kings of the Crows. They developed a legendary status mid-and post-Outbreak—and are the subjects of the memoir and film mentioned above. One of their number who happened to survive (and gain notoriety enough to get a publishing deal for a memoir) is the subject of the 2028 investigation. They survived the worst of the worst in one of the hardest-hit cities. They did so via means and methods that many (including their own) would find deplorable, but under circumstances that not only permitted, but required, those actions.

We also see what happens to an American in Paris for work when the Outbreak reaches the point that International travel is canceled (particularly to the U.S.). Her allies will never be considered the Kings of anything, and the contrast between how she survives to what the Crows do is pretty striking.

In 2028…eh…you know what? You should read that for yourself. I’m going to say something I’ll regret.

The biggest killer in those days wasn’t the disease or the psychos, it was stupidity.

However, it has been pointed out by many historians, logic was one of the first casualties of the Outbreak.

Some of the best moments of this book have nothing to do with advancing the plot, they’re little bits showing what the world of the Gondii-pandemic looks like. The man telling the story about taking his girlfriend to the ER because of a burn—how they were treated, and how she became infected. The soldiers coming back from a Middle East deployment being completely unprepared for what had happened to their home country. The mother and son who traveled with the Crows for awhile.

Ultimately, it’s not the story you think you’re getting…or is it? The marketing tag line is, “Ocean’s Eleven meets 28 Days Later.” It is, all things considered, a good, catchy line. I’m not sure it’s all that accurate a description of the novel (but it’s not inaccurate). What it is, really slides up on you—and when you see it it feels like it was obvious all along (even if you wouldn’t have said that 20 pages earlier). There’s a straightforward crime story at the heart of this novel—it’s just surrounded by so many layers, that you can miss it—there’s the sickness, there’s the horrible social and political context (both mid- and post-Outbreak), there’s what the characters are going through otherwise—and the whole thing is drenched in social commentary about 2020 society, e.g., sexism, economics, medical care.

And that’s not even touching the context we’re reading it in now. I truly wonder what I’d think of this book if I’d read it last Fall. I’d still like it, I’d still be impressed by it—but I don’t know if it would resonate with me the same way. There’s almost nothing about Gondii that’s comparable to COVID-19. But the way that people and governments respond—well, that’s pretty different, too. but if you can’t see what’s going on around us reflected in this novel? You’re not paying attention. That Day appears so prescient says something about his skill and observation (and a lot about Western culture, too).

I can see why people cling to the idea that the Gonzos were trying to tell us something. Something’s out there trying to get a message through: there’s a plan. Compared to the idea that it was all just chance, it’s a comfort of a type. Chance doesn’t care and can’t be appeased and can’t be reasoned with. Chance means it could all happen again.

5 Stars

PUB DAY REPOST: Killer Story by Matt Witten: A Desperate Reporter Works to Solve a Sensational Murder

By HCNewton

On January 17, 2023

In Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller

Be sure to check out this Q&A with Matt Witten—it’s a great one!

Killer Story

by Matt Witten

DETAILS:
Publisher: Oceanview Publishing
Publication Date: January 17, 2023
Format: eARC
Length: 320 pg.
Read Date: December 26-27, 2022

What’s Killer Story About?

While studying journalism in school, Petra acted as a counselor for a high school journalism camp. In that role, she met and befriended a young girl named Livvy Anderson. Over the years since then, the two forged a strong friendship—almost like sisters. At some point though, the relationship faltered—in college, Livvy started posting videos online spouting (in Petra’s view) extreme right-wing politics, hateful speech, and the like. For example, she defended a star football player accused of raping a woman on campus by trashing her reputation and exposing personal details. Rather than pushing back or even arguing with her friend, Petra chilled communication, assuming it was a phase, and focused on her own work.

And it might have been a phase if Livvy hadn’t been killed. The murder was fairly sensational—it happened while Livvy was recording a video (but she paused the recording so no one saw it or the murderer). The accused killer was acquitted—and most of the country (including Petra) assumed it was a travesty of justice and that he got away with it. The Court of Public Opinion definitely found him guilty.

Years later, Petra has found herself (like most young print journalists) bouncing around from newspaper to newspaper, trying to stay employed. She’s now at a major Boston newspaper and thinks that life is stable—the subjects of her stories might not be that glamorous, but she’s working, and the big story is around the corner.

Until she’s laid off. She panics at this point—her boyfriend (who moved cross-country with her for this job, changing the course of his career) isn’t going to put up with the lack of stability much longer, and it’s going to only get harder getting a job at the rate she’s going. So she throws out a mad pitch to her editor—what if she could definitively prove who killed Olivia Anderson? She tells him this story isn’t just the kind of thing for the paper—it’d make a great podcast.

Visions of the kind of revenue that Serial and similar podcasts could bring to the paper, not to mention the publicity of this kind of story, he gives her two weeks to firm up the story, start producing the podcast, and they’ll see what happens.

Petra heads off to find the evidence she pretended to have during that meeting—and hopefully much more.

The Journalism of this Novel

I’ve talked before about how I’m a sucker for a novel about a driven journalist—typically a print journalist, too. I’m always ready, willing, and able to embrace and fall into the romance of the crusading reporter. Or just one who does the job well, without a crusade.

But those kinds of stories are getting harder to tell and to believe in our current media landscape. Not just because print journalism is dying (for worse or for worser). It’s definitely not the track that Witten takes here. Petra is desperate and acts desperately—she lies to her editor at every turn, overstating her case and the evidence she has at each step of the way. Almost every fictional reporter* cuts a corner here and there and bends a rule and the truth in pursuit of the story and/or the truth. Even thosPetra amputates corners and forces the truth about her actions into positions only the most experienced yogi can handle—at least when it comes to what she tells her editor, coworkers, the police, her boyfriend, and so on.

* Lawyers, please note that I’m not saying anything about the methods of actual reporters or the companies they work for. Please don’t sue me.

When it comes to her actual reporting, however—in print, podcast, and elsewhere—Petra is much more honest. Bowing to editorial pressure she may say something earlier than she should* and while she never lies, she sure edges close to it. Her scripts feature incredibly well-chosen words—true, but open to interpretation.

* There are a few hundred words I could write about other journalistic ethical moves here, but I’d be getting sidetracked.

The journalism—both in print and in the podcast—we see here is very likely what fills our screens and earbuds. It’s sensationalistic, click-driven, and not necessarily all that honest. It’s depressing to think about, and it’s not great to read about if you think about it in those terms—but it makes for a thrilling (and realistic) read. Still, I think I need to go watch Deadline – U.S.A. or something to restore my faith in humanity.

The Alt-Right Depiction

Thanks to Livvy’s online persona, even now, she has a good number of fans. Many of those fans are not happy about Petra’s podcast—and make that displeasure well known online. At least one goes further than that. Between them and Livvy’s videos (and other online activities), Witten has to walk a careful line—he needs to depict them in an honest and believable way without turning them into a convenient punching bag for a reader or character to spend a lot of time venting about their politics (perhaps even himself). Or, to go in the other direction, too.

I really appreciated the restraint he showed in this regard, it’d be easy to slip here, but on the whole, he simply reports on the views espoused—sure, it’s clear that Petra and her colleagues (and many of the witnesses that talk about it) disagree with Livvy and her fans/defenders, but with only one exception, we don’t get details their differences with the alt-right views.

That exception comes from Petra having to do a deep dive into their activities and to try to interact—so it comes about organically. Even then, Witten doesn’t let Petra go too far.

I mention this to say that readers shouldn’t let the politics involved in the book dissuade them—it’s there, but it’s just part of the atmosphere. And it’s fairly evenly handled, and I can’t imagine many readers having a problem with it.

So, what did I think about Killer Story?

Early on in the novel, I made assumptions (as you do) about the kind of story that Witten was telling and what kind of things the reader should expect from the plot and characters. I was wrong on just about every point. It was a very different kind of story, the characters ended up going in directions I wouldn’t have guessed (Petra’s editor, boyfriend, and best friend were probably the exceptions to this), and every theory I had about the killing was wrong.* And the result is a richer, deeper, and more satisfying novel than what I thought I was going to get (and I anticipated this being a good one!).

* Well, almost. I did have the motive and killer right for a chapter or two, but Witten and Petra got me off of that path.

Witten’s story in last year’s Jacked was one of the higher points in a collection full of high points, and this novel solidified my appreciation for his writing. Before I got to the point where I realized that the novel wasn’t telling the story that I thought it was and shifted my expectations, I spent a good deal of time not liking the book—but I couldn’t stop reading it or thinking and talking about it when I wasn’t reading it. It was just too well done. It got under my skin. Actually, it’s still there—I can’t stop thinking about Petra and her choices. I even emailed Witten to ask a couple of questions I had about some points—points that I think the reader could have divergent opinions on, but I wanted his authorial take on it. I’ve never done this before. But I had to know—and even having his take on them, I’m chewing on it.

I’m going to be haunted by Killer Story for a bit—in the best way. If you’re looking for a mystery you can sink your teeth into and chew on, look no further.

4 Stars

Disclaimer: I received a copy of the eARC of this novel from the author in exchange for this post and my honest opinion. This did not impact my view and the above is my honest opinion.

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

Blackwater Falls by Ausma Zehanat Khan: The Very Model of a Modern American Procedural

By HCNewton

On January 16, 2023

In Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller

Blackwater Falls

by Ausma Zehanat Khan

DETAILS:
Series: Blackwater Falls, #1
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Publication Date: November 7, 2022
Format: Hardcover
Length: 371 pg.
Read Date: January 10-12, 2023

She’d thought to herself many times that the town was too shiny, too perfect, a vision of Americana, with fern-green pastures unfurling north of the reservoir, and pickup trucks and ranches that spoke of a vanished dream: the hardworking people of the heartland.

But there were hate crimes and harassment in this heartland, communities who lived at the mercy of their employers, and vigilantes and cops who were there to make them obey. In Chicago, the exercise of power was naked and direct; she knew that all too well. Blackwater’s old-fashioned gentility masked its insistence on the status quo, an insight that made her uneasy.

What’s Blackwater Falls About?

Well, I could put this in a very bare-bones way—a pair of detectives take over a murder investigation in a small town outside of Denver. There’ve been a number of complaints about the Sherriff, so Denver PD has sent them. One high school girl has been killed, and there are rumors of two others that are missing. The detectives deal with local roadblocks, an antagonistic Sherriff’s department, and some internal troubles as they search for answers.

This is not a new idea to Police Procedurals—at all. And for good reason—that’s the makings of a good story. But…let’s put some meat on those bones and see what Khan does that makes this novel stand out.

Detective Imaya Rahman has recently moved from Chicago to Denver, following some professional failure and personal trauma (it’s initially unclear what both were). She’s part of the Community Response Unit—which is assigned to any case calling for police accountability, particularly in cases involving overpoliced communities/areas. The unit was formed following the protests of 2020, and Rahman was involved in police oversight back in Chicago, it was a natural fit. The murder victim—a Syrian refugee—was a member of the same mosque that Rahman and her family attends (her father’s a criminal defense attorney, and her younger sisters attend a local college, I’m not sure what her mother does other than worry about getting her daughters married), and was discovered in that mosque. Her body was posed and displayed in a way that seemed to invoke both Christ’s crucifixion and the Virgin Mary. Between the victim, the building, and the imagery—this screams hate crime. And the tensions between the Sherriff’s Department and the (largely immigrant) Muslim community in the area are at a boiling point.

Enter CRU and Det. Rahaman, in particular. Her partner was a former trauma therapist who moved into criminal psychology, bringing valuable insights and profiling abilities. Before joining the CRU, Det. Catalina Hernandez had worked for years on the border helping immigrants with legal and medical aid. With her eye for detail, her ability to relate to the immigrant population of Blackwater Falls, and her people skills; and Rahman’s investigative instincts and shared background with the victim’s families—they’re the ideal team for this case.

There’s no dearth of suspects—there’s an evangelical megachurch in town where the preaching is as frequently anti-Muslim and anti-immigrant as it is pro-Christ. There’s the Disciples, a Christian motorcycle club—they appear to be the enforcers of the outlook of said megachurch (and make an aggressive appearance at the victim’s home the day of her body’s discovery). There’s the private (and very white) school the victim attended, where she’d been harassed and assaulted for her race, her apparel, and her success. Part of that success was getting a coveted internship at a local tech firm that she’d recently been fired from. Lastly, her father had been part of a movement to organize a union at the plant he worked at—and management’s response was both aggressive and seemingly targeted at the families of the organizers.

It seemed like a large suspect pool when I was reading it, but having typed it all out just now, it seems even more daunting.

As I said earlier, the Sherriff’s department is hostile—naturally because no one likes being pushed off a case, and possibly because there’s a good reason for them to be removed. At the same time, they seem awfully well-informed about what’s happening in the investigation (as do some of the potential suspects)—does the CRU have a leak?

The Subplots/Worldbuilding

Yeah, even with all of that going on, Khan is able to work in a handful of subplots—some of which serve the story, some establish the characters, and some help build the foundation of a series. It doesn’t feel over-stuffed and nothing is given short shrift. I’m not going to go into them all at this point because I don’t want this post to get too long, so I’ll be vague here.

This is a fantastic world here (well, okay, it’s a horrible world because it’s pretty realistic—but it’s a fantastic world for the purposes of an ongoing series. I’m pretty sure that the entities that proved to have nothing to do with the murder will be seen again in relation to a future crime.

The tensions and problems within the CRU will give all the characters opportunities for growth and development as that Unit becomes better (or devolves into uselessness).

Over the course of the case, Rahman and Hernandez form an alliance (and possible budding friendship) with a local attorney and minority rights activist—the potential for mutual aid and clashes within this group of women alone is enough to fuel readers’ imaginations for a few books.

Also, you have to account for Rahman’s backstory, family, and potential romantic entanglements that we’ve only scratched the surface of in this book, it’s going to take a few more to really explore all of this. And I’m sure the other members of the team could have similar arcs as well.

Culture Clashes

Blackwater Falls is a pretty diverse community at the present (but not historically)—you’ve got the families that have made this community over the generations—largely white, Protestant (of various types), and moderately-to-very affluent. There’s a new Muslim community appearing—Rahman’s family, Syrian refugees, and significant numbers of Somalis—largely brought into do blue-collar work. Denver’s CRU itself is pretty diverse.

The key to both success when it comes to this case and for the health of the community is understanding each other to some extent. Khan makes this point subtly throughout, but you can’t walk away from the book without it making an impression. The detectives struggle to overcome their lack of understanding of parts of the communities, cultures, and religions in the town, as do the citizens/residents, the suspects, and (I think I can say without spoiling anything) even the killer is tripped up by not really understanding things. The lack of mutual respect and awareness will destroy this unit and community until bridges are built—and used.

For the way she handles this theme alone, Khan deserves a kudos or two.

So, what did I think about Blackwater Falls?

I think I’ve tipped my hand already here. I was very impressed by this book—I’ve seen a lot of people talk about how a good police procedural can be written post-George Floyd. Here’s the answer. Khan tackles the struggles of a police department trying to do the job they’ve always done while making slow changes and resisting others—the CRU’s lieutenant (who I’ve ignored solely for reasons of space up until now) is the poster child for this. There are outside voices wanting these changes to happen more rapidly and others decrying the entire idea—and these detectives are stuck in the middle while trying to stop a murderer.

Is this a template for others? No. But it’s a shining example that the subgenre can survive and thrive. Possibly even drawing new readers in, too.

The character work—both major and minor—is fantastic, there’s not one of them that couldn’t walk off the page as a living, breathing person. The pacing is tight. The tension is organic and ratchets up throughout just the way it should. The mystery(ies) are well-plotted and executed. Khan left a giant red herring for readers to be distracted by, wondering why the detectives weren’t following one line of investigation—and my notes are full of my grumbling about it, smug in knowing that I’d figured out a significant part of the case (and maybe the killer’s identity) hundreds of pages ahead of them. And as I called it a red herring, I clearly couldn’t have been more wrong, but I didn’t give up on it until I had to.

Right now, I have this sense that there are a point or two that I intended to make that I’ve completely forgotten about—and I feel bad about that, because this is one of those books that you can really sink your teeth into. At the same time, I have a sense that I’m nearing the “said too-much” line, so I’ll leave this here and not try to think of those neglected points.

This is a great procedural in the way it embraces the defining traits and pushes them in new ways, it’s a great character study, a good commentary on several issues facing the country—and it’s a pretty solid mystery, too (can’t forget that). I’m more than eager to see where this series goes next. Get your hands on this one, friends.

4 1/2 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

The Ballad of Bonaduke—Episode 12: Whose There? by R. T. Slaywood: A Family Reunion

By HCNewton

On January 13, 2023

In Urban Fantasy

Had to take a couple of weeks off when things got busy on the homefront, but I’m back now (and apparently my 1-2 weeks became a month and change. That wasn’t my intention).

The Ballad of Bonaduke—
Episode 12: Whose There?

by R.T. Slaywood

DETAILS:
Series: The Ballad of Bonaduke, #12
Format: Kindle Vella Story
Read Date: December 2, 2022

“May I come in?” She asked from bluish lips that flashed a pair of pointed teetch as she spoke. I felt like a rabbit in the presence of a snake.

Or a fly to a spider

The Story So Far…

What’s Whose There About?

Before the conversation started in the last episode can bear any fruit, there’s a knock at the door. Before the door is opened, Bonaduke feels a chill—at first you think it’s the kind of chill someone gets when they’re nervous/worried—and he is both, but there’s more. It’s a physical chill that he’ll feel a lot of (and more intensely) as the episode goes on. It’s a relative he hasn’t seen in more than a decade—who apparently is one of the people who put him in this situation. Or maybe she’s just working with the people who abducted him—I’m not sure yet (although I lean toward the latter).

She delivers some bad news and some conditions to the others in the apartment, messes around with Bonaduke (she is not warm and fuzzy to her relative), and leaves. One of the men in the apartment leaves, and the other tells Bonaduke that it’s time to give him that explanation he has been waiting for (the reader, too).

Naturally, that’s when the episode ends.

So, what did I think about Whose There?

We start to get some answers here, and more are promised. Of course, we get new questions, too. Regardless, this is the best episode in quite a while. Things happen, a little more supernatural ability is thrown around, and it looks like the story is about to go somewhere.

Okay, the editing on this one was just bad. Distractingly and annoyingly bad. It happens (I know that better than anyone). But ick.

Regardless, I enjoyed this one, and am eager for the next.

3 Stars

The Friday 56 for 1/13/23: Lost in the Moment and Found by Seanan McGuire

By HCNewton

On January 13, 2023

In Currently Reading, Fantasy, Fiction, News/Misc., Quotations, Seanan McGuire, The Friday 56, Wayward Children

This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.

from Page 56 of:
Lost in the Moment and Found

Lost in the Moment and Found by Seanan McGuire

On the other side of the door, where the shop should have been, a jungle stretched all the way to the horizon, fat, round-trunked trees dripping with vines and flowers, their twisting branches reaching for the sky like the spread fingers of enormous hands. Something moved in the deep foliage, and brightly colored birds perched on the vines, clacking their beaks and calling to each other at the sight of her.

It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Antsy stepped through the door. Only one foot; she was at least clever enough to leave her other foot solidly on the wooden floor of the thrift store. One of the vast, bright-petaled flowers was close enough for her to lean over and pluck it before retreating back through the door and closing it behind her. The flower didn’t disintegrate when pulled into the thrift store. It remained in her hand, bright and blooming, petals almost the same color as a good, ripe watermelon.

She stared at it, trying to understand how this could be happening.