I Want My OtherMommy!

There's something about kids and horror that just go hand in hand. Whether they are the source of evil or the ones evil preys upon, children are just plain creepy -- and occasionally you'll get one that's downright annoying (I'm looking at you, The Babadook), so I knew it was only a matter of time before I got around to Josh Malerman's Incidents Around the House. Besides is being a book that centered around a child, I knew very little by way of what to expect.

The titles implies the possibility of a haunted house novel, while the cover lends itself to the idea that we'll either be dealing with a possessed toy or an imaginary friend gone bad. It turned out to be the latter. What we end up dealing with is an 8-year-old narrator who lives in a house with her mother, her father (who she calls Daddo), and an entity she calls Other Mommy, and, as we learn early on, Bela's mother has been distant recently. Given that bit of information, we, the reader, suspect Other Mommy is either a spirit within the house or an imaginary friend created to replace the often missing or preoccupied mother figure. Things take a sinister turn when we learn that Other Mommy has been asking to go into Bela's heart and there's been talk about "carnations," and that Other Mommy won't stop asking until Bela says "Yes." I really can't say much more than that without giving anything away.

The one thing that stood out for me while reading this book is a story I heard when I was a child, about a little girl who dreamed of a man coming in through her bedroom window every night and asking her to go with him. This unnerves the parents, who think that some pervert is creeping into their daughter's bedroom. They set up their own surveillance. Nothing. They call the cops. Nothing. Then they begin to suspect something more sinister. Something supernatural. So they take it to their priest. The priest tells them that whatever is happening, you must tell her never to say yes to this man. The nightly visitations continue, and the bring their daughter in to talk to the priest. It is then that the little girls looks at a picture of Jesus, points, and says that's the man who keeps coming into her room. The priest maintains that the girl should never say yes, and while the parents agree with him to his face, they don't see the harm in telling their daughter that if that's the man who wants her to go with him, it's okay to go. The next morning, the child was dead. So with that story firmly planted in my head, I was curious to find out where Malerman was going to take the story.

At this point I want to reveal that I listened to the audiobook version, and that probably influenced my reception of the novel. The narrator did a fantastic job of capturing the childlike essence of the character, and she pulled me into the story immediately. There was something captivating about her narration; I didn't want to stop/put down the book. I often wonder, when listening to audiobooks, if it's the narrator that makes the story for me, and if I would have had the same reaction if I had read the book. That's something I'll never know the answer to, but what I do know is that I loved this book. While not fast paced, it is gripping, and Malerman takes you to places that are dark and not exactly comfortable, and you get the feeling the author is intentionally holding back one more revelation, possibly because to include it would make the story cliche and like so many other stories of this type. The only negative I have, which isn't really a bad thing, is that at times the narrator sounded like someone familiar, and that familiar someone is Zelda Rubinstein from Poltergeist, and it happens enough times to the point I have to wonder is it wasn't intentional instead of being coincidental. I happen to love Zelda, though, so it wasn't really an issue for me, but for someone else, it might be enough to pull you out of the story. Final rating, 5/5 stars. Highly recommended. 

The Neighbors from Hell

Adam Nevill has alway been on my radar ever since reading Apartment 16, and while I've accumulated some of his books, I just never got around to reading them. Until now.

The reason why I kept putting him off is because I know from discussions on his work that his books tend to be slow burns. I know Apartment 16 was. Cunning Folk was no different. And I have to be in a certain mood for slow burns. You'd think, though, that a book opening with a man being tormented by unseen things to the point of committing suicide would hit the ground running, but nope... Nevill is quick to apply the brakes as a new family takes possession of the house. Tom, his wife Fiona, and their daughter Gracey. Oh, and their little dog, too. Right from the start there are misgivings, as the place looks more run-down than he remembers, and as city folk wanting to living the dream of a house in the country, they are really living beyond their means, especially when the Moots, their less than pleasant elderly neighbors, start telling him the things that need to be done. What's they're telling him is all cosmetic work to be done on the outside, which Tom thinks is secondary when compared to making the interior livable for his family, but you can tell he sees the cash register tallying up everything the Moots are listing.

The Moots, we're quick to learn, are unpleasant people, and they make no bones about wanting Tom and his family gone. You immediately start to wonder if maybe they weren't the ones tormenting the man in the beginning, making him so paranoid that he takes his own life. If that's the case, what do they have in store for Tom, Fiona, and... They wouldn't hurt a child, would they? Would they? You'll just have to read and find out.

Nevill takes his time establishing the relationships and all the characters involved, and sometimes you just want to scream, "Okay, they're miserable old people. We get it. Now move the story along." But we bide our time and wait for the big reveal and for the ooey gooey brown stuff to hit the fan. And it does. With what's revealed about the Moots, you have to ask yourself what chance does Tom have against them, since he's basically fighting alone; his wife refuses to see what he sees and believe what he's been told, and she chalks up is "mental instability" on the stress of such are large DIY project. And with the creation of the Moots, Nevill has introduced to the literary world a pair of the vilest people you can imagine. He also ratchets up the tension with each character that's introduced, because after the revelation, Tom realizes how powerless he is against these people, and really doesn't know who he can trust.

If you're in the market for a supernatural thriller, this is definitely one to check out. Final score? 4.5/5 stars. For me it missed being a 5-star read because if the ending. While it's satisfactory, given the build-up Nevill has given us, I felt robbed, but he more than made up for it in the scenes that follow.

Not the Catch of the Day

After hearing so many good things about John Langan's The Fisherman, I went into it with high expectations. It's always a wonderful thing when a book meets those expectations, even better when it exceeds them, but alas, The Fisherman is not one of those books.

The book has a promising start: two coworkers, both widowers, end up bonding over fishing. The two hit various fishing spots until Dan suggests Dutchman's Creek. Abe has never heard of it, but he's game, so the two set off. At Herman's Diner, a local eatery, the two ask about the fishing spot and are warned away from it, so right there the stage is set for some spooky happenings, and you want the two to hurry up and get there so things can start happening. All this happens in the first 50 pages or so, then you have to wait until page 197 before they finally get there. So what happens for 150 pages? Howard, of Herman's Diner (either his name should have been Herman, or the diner should have been called Howard's Diner), recounts the history of Dutchman's Creek, which, in and of itself, wouldn't be so bad, if it felt as through the reader were immersed in the events as they occurred, but they don't. It comes across as exactly what it is, someone sitting in a room while someone drones on and on and on. It isn't until we come back to present day that the reader once again feels involved with the events as they play out.

For me, this recounting often feels unfinished, as if they author was building up to something, didn't know what that something was going to be and meant to go back to it, and never did. This is often at points where dialogue should be used, but instead the author basically says it's not important what was said, but it feels like the character is about to reveal something, then changes their mind. Quite often I was left feeling frustrated because I'm thinking it's about to get good, but then the author glosses right over it and you never get the full impact. We find out later that Dan learned of the location through his grandfather's fishing journal, and knowing that, this history could have been spaced throughout as Abe discovers the journal and starts reading through it. As a result, what could have been a great cosmic horror novel gets lost in the ramblings of an old man. Not recommended. 2/5 stars.

The FBI's Most Wanted

 I'm a sucker for killer Bigfoot stories, but there are so few well written ones out there, it's like playing Russian roulette every time you pick one up, and it's always a pleasant surprise when you stumble across a good one. The last surprise I got with Bigfoot books was Nick Sullivan's Zombie Bigfoot. So when I spied Heath Stallcup's Genoskwa: A Story of Vengeance, and that it was the beginning of a series, I decided to chance it.

Our story opens with a the FBI's Joint Terrorism Task Force checking out a possible terrorist cell deep within the Catskill mountains. When they arrive, they find the camp abandoned, a short bus turned onto its side, blood, lots of blood, and a couple of bodies. Not long after, they come under attack by some unseen threat, which turns out to be the Genoskwa, a subspecies of Sasquatch. When they don't return, a recovery team is sent in, and they too fall under attack. It becomes an all-out battle, and you're on the edge of your seat wondering who dies and who makes it out alive.

Stallcup doesn't waste any time getting you into the action, and even though there's a large cast of characters, none are fully fleshed out. Most of them are cannon fodder, but there are some you get to know well enough to know that if something happens to them, you aren't going to be happy, but then again, when you read this type of fiction, you're not reading it for the characters; you read it for the monster mayhem, and Stallcup provides plenty of that. You won't be disappointed.

If you decide to read this one, I strongly suggest getting an ebook copy or the audiobook because the print edition does have its issues. The first page of each chapter is very difficult to read; there's a full page graphic that acts as a backdrop to white text. I initially bought the print edition and was forced to get the ebook just so I could read the first page of each chapter. The other issue with the print edition is a personal pet peeve, and that's improper line formatting in that there are often large gaps between words within a line. Some might not be bothered by this, but for me, it's distracting enough to pull me out of the story.

If you're looking for killer cryptid fiction, or just want some all-out monster mayhem, this is definitely one to check out. For me, the next three have already been added to my TBR pile. Final rating, 4/5 stars

A Mountie Always Get His Man, Except When They Don't

Outside of reading X number of books for the year, I never really participated in reading challenges that required you to read certain sub categories within the genre. I'd start them, then fall off because some of the categories never interested me. Last year was the first year I was determined to get through an entire challenge. One of the categories was "Slasher," and preferring to read creature features, eco horror, and tales that include monsters or other supernatural creatures, I turned to Google to direct me to popular slasher fiction. One of the titles that came up was Michael Slade's Headhunter. I was familiar with the author's name, but had never read anything by him, and since the story idea appealed to me, I decided this would be the one.

In addition  to being a slasher, Headhunter is also classified as a police procedural, another genre I'm not well versed in, so this was going to be a few firsts for me. The story is about a serial killer preying on women in Canada, raping and beheading the victims, then taunting the police by sending them photos of the women's heads on stakes. Along the way, there are detours to New Orleans (past and present), as well as trips through time, to the point where I felt at times like the book was was a jumbled mess, scattered all over the place and there was no way the dots were going to connect. That's one of the challenges I like about this particular genre (I have read some, just not a lot): trying to piece together the clues to try to figure out who the killer is. However, this turned out not to be that kind of book. For me, the dots never connected, and by the time I got to the end, I felt it came out of left field. Here, the cops are celebrating because the finally got their man, but the reader is left scratching his/her head because the pieces don't fit unless you hammer them into place with a sledgehammer. You begin to feel like maybe you missed something, you go back to check only to realize you didn't miss anything because it just isn't there. Don't get me wrong; I enjoyed the book, but it was just frustrating not being able to follow the trail of bread crumbs, because there wasn't any to follow.

I also wish the reader was a witness to more of the killings (yes, I'm a gore hound) and not brought in after the fact. Towards the end, we're allowed to see through the eyes of the killer, so why not earlier?  And I know this isn't the type of book where you become attached to the characters and want to see them survive until the end, but at least make some of the characters likable. I don't think any of the characters are truly likable. We're supposed to see DeClercq as a somewhat sympathetic character, a retired cop pulled out of retirement for one more case who suffers from PTSD after his wife and daughter were both killed years ago, but his stellar reputation quickly becomes tarnished when you witness him popping pills to get through the day. And any character you begin to warm up to and start thinking, Well, this one seems like a nice person, is quickly dispatched.

After all this, you might think I didn't like the book, and you'd be wrong. The journey is an enjoyable one; it's the destination that leaves a lot to be desired, which is why what started out looking like a 5-star read ended up being a 4-star read.

They're All Gonna Laugh at You

Hot on the heels of White Smoke, I did something I rarely, if ever, do, and that's pick up another book by the same author. I don't even do that with series books, but someone told me to check out Tiffany D. Jackson's The Weight of Blood. They warned me this was a different take on Stephen King's Carrie, so I knew what I was getting myself into going in.

The catalyst for the events in Jackson's book is race and the fact that Madison Washington is biracial but has been passing for white. Once her secret has been revealed, she becomes the target of both the white and black students, as both sides believe Maddie lied because she's ashamed of who she is. They don't realize there's a reason why Maddie has kept her secret all these years, but they don't ever give her a chance to explain. And, as expected, the privileged white students are more open and brutal in their response to Maddie's deceit. It isn't long, however, before the adults in town are also looking at Maddie in an accusing way, as, thanks to social media, the town's racism is exposed for the world to see. For those familiar with King's Carrie, tensions continue to rise until the powder keg is ignited at the prom, with deadly results.

As I said at the beginning, I knew this was going to be a spin on Carrie, and reading the jacket copy, I knew race/racism was going to be the focal point, so I was prepared for similarities. What I wasn't prepared for is the fact that actual scenes are lifted from King's novel and transplanted into Jackson's, changed just enought to reflect the central theme but still obvious as to the source: from the prayer closet to the drenching at the prom. Margaret White, Carrie's overly religious mother, has been replaced by an over-protective father who seems to be lost in the past, and while religion does come into play, the need to shelter Carrie comes from the need to cover up his own sordid behavior. At the time, inter-racial relationships were a BIG NO-NO, especially in the south. This is the one thing in Jackson's book that doesn't work for me: the relationship between Maddie and her Daddy. Daddy wants her to be white, so she is white, and they go through great lengths to maintain the facade. And in Maddie's room (and the prayer closet), photographs of all the Hollywood starlets stare down at Maddie day and night. There's no escaping it. So when she's getting ready for prom, she's basically turning herself into one of these starlets, modeling herself after Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's, complete with black dress and pearls. Dad says she looks like a harlot even though she's turning herself into one of the women staring down at her. It appears there's no winning with this man.

Overall, though, I did enjoy The Weight of Blood. It's a quick read, and it's so easy to get caught up in the lives and relationships of the characters, so even at the points where I was pulled out of the story by an eye roll when I recognized a transplanted scene, it was easy enough to lose myself in the story once again. I just wish the author and put a little more effort into creating scenarios that weren't duplicates of the novel it was modeled after. Despite the issues, though, I would still definitely recommend it. 3.75/5 stars

My House

Searching Amazon for a haunted house, Tiffany D. Jackson's White Smoke was at the top of the search results. After reading the synopsis, I kinda shrugged because it didn't seem to offer up anything new, but Jackson was a New-to-Me author, so I figured why not. The fact that it was classified as YA wasn't even an issue.

When I say it didn't seem to offer anything new, it deals with a family that is uprooted and relocates to a different state, unknowingly taking up residence in the local haunted house. Jackson throws all the trappings at us -- squeaking floorboards; offensive odors with no evident source; items disappearing, never to be found; animals behaving strangely; shadowy figures; and strange whisperings -- but she does it gradually, without overwhelming the reader. She also creates a rather dark, in-depth history of the location, which she does an excellent job weaving it in to the details of the haunting. That doesn't mean the book doesn't have any problems or issues. It does, and they're bad enough (at least for me) where I seriously considered putting this in the DNF file several times, but I persevered and was glad I did, as Jackson delivers a twist that takes it beyond the run-of-the-mill haunted house. She also delivers some genuinely harrowing scenes that will keep the reader on the edge of their seats.

What was so bad that it almost made me stop reading? The central character, Marigold, suffers from crippling anxiety that centers around bedbugs, and she's obsessed with the need to get high, and the reader is hit over the head with these two things repeatedly, to the point where it feels like the author needed filler to reach a certain word count. If you can overlook these two issues, White Smoke is definitely worth checking out. I know I'll be checking out more books by the author. Final score? 4/5 stars