Many people are familiar with the psychological phenomenon known as hoarding. Many are familiar with it because of shows like Hoarders, which reveals our morbid fascination with watching people whose lives are overtaken by their possessions. Objects can have meaning beyond their function, but becoming overly attached to so many things can pollute one's living space, to which the subjects on the show can attest. However, it's also surprising that very few horror stories have tackled this phenomenon since it involves both a psychological compulsion and an environment that slowly turns against its owner. An exception to this dearth of coverage, and a well-conceived one, is the new graphic novel Horde by Marguerite Bennett and Leila Leiz.
The story focuses on Ruby Ando, a young woman tasked with helping her mother Mia clear her hoarding house of its massive collection of treasures and trinkets that Mia seems to love more than her flesh and blood. Mia loves them so much, in fact, that these items become alive and very possessive of Mia. Of course, Ruby doesn't know this until she shows her anger toward the house and the house retaliates by pulling Ruby deeper into its clutches but also deeper into her Mother's mindscape, a literal maze full of monsters and memories that will either absorb Ruby into their ranks or simply dispose of her.
Bennett's story is rich in symbolism as she creates a fantasy world that not only keeps Mia trapped in memories of the past but actively tries to stop Ruby from freeing her. Ruby even has a dead cat that serves as her Virgil-like guide through the layers of her mother's psyche. Bennett has created a world that is fed by Mia's misguided love for her possessions while those possessions, given a semblance of life, allow Mia to avoid living beyond her collection, a symbiotic relationship that ensures Mia's imprisonment. I would also be remiss to not mention Leila Leiz's disturbing artwork, whether it involves furniture and household items becoming monsters or people becoming mere treasures themselves. Seeing someone become a vase has never been more horrifying as it is depicted in the book. My only critique of this book, if it is a critique in fact, is that it seemed too short. There seemed to be a much more developed world not yet explored, but Bennett does provide some emphatic resolution that prevents anything like a sequel from happening. That simply means, though, that I, as a reader, must resign myself to eagerly anticipating more collaborations from Bennett and Leiz.
Tuesday, February 25, 2020
Screen to Scream: We Have Always Lived in the Castle
Since it is Women in Horror Month, I thought I'd look at a classic female author, one who has had a great influence on the horror genre as a whole. People might have been introduced to Shirley Jackson in school from her short story "The Lottery," which may have been their introduction to the twist ending. There are others who know her for The Haunting of Hill House, which birthed at least two movies and a crazy awesome Netflix series. However, I have recently discovered Jackson's last tale and, in my opinion, her most disturbing, We Have Always Lived in the Castle. I have also discovered a recently made movie adaptation featuring some well-known stars.
We Have Always Lived in the Castle invokes its terror in much the same way Hill House did: by having a unreliable narrator relay the story, but the audience only realizes how unreliable she is as the story progresses. Hill House's Eleanor Vance is seen for the most part as sheltered and awkward until the house tightens its grip on her. The narrator in We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Merricat Blackwood, begins the novel by announcing she is 18 years old and is sadly not a werewolf. From there, the reader is introduced to her eccentric family, her doting sister Constance, and her invalid uncle Julian, who drifts in and out of the present while working on his true crime book involving the family. It is through interactions with these characters that the reader discovers that the rest of the Blackwood clan was poisoned. Their existence is an unusual one but structured, which is just how Merricat likes it. Then cousin Charles arrives and upends Merricat's orderly existence. Charles's increasingly boorish and domineering behavior, along with the festering resentment from the nearby village create a powderkeg that ultimately explodes, but like the title implies, Merricat remains, eternal, unknowable, a violent trap just waiting to be sprung.
The 2018 movie surprisingly follows the book with a few additions to the plot to tell this story visually. From American Horror Story's Taissa Farmiga and Baywatch's Alexandria Daddario to Winter Soldier Sebastian Stan and generally creepy dad Crispin Glover, this movie can actually be called star-studded. The direction and cinematography reminds me of many quirky directors, such as the title cards reminiscent of a Wes Anderson film and the Danny Elfman-sounding soundtrack that'd seem right at home in a Tim Burton film. The actors also portray their characters as slightly off, particularly Farmiga's twitchy and antisocial mannerism she gives to Merricat. Director Stacie Passon's tale and camera work reminded me of a darker version of the series Pushing Daisies, even as the story takes some dark turns. She also changes to the story that render Charles a much larger douchebag than in the book, and the ending though creepy ends up being more weird than horrifying. Jackson's original story is the more terrifying because it unfolds like a piece of origami, each section opening revealing another part of the whole story, another damaged fragment of Merricat's psyche, but what's really going on isn't revealed until the paper is completely unfolded. The movie is a passable and entertaining homage to Jackson's work but the original book remains a masterclass in storytelling, demonstrating how an unreliable narrator, in what they say and don't say, reveals so much about the story.
We Have Always Lived in the Castle invokes its terror in much the same way Hill House did: by having a unreliable narrator relay the story, but the audience only realizes how unreliable she is as the story progresses. Hill House's Eleanor Vance is seen for the most part as sheltered and awkward until the house tightens its grip on her. The narrator in We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Merricat Blackwood, begins the novel by announcing she is 18 years old and is sadly not a werewolf. From there, the reader is introduced to her eccentric family, her doting sister Constance, and her invalid uncle Julian, who drifts in and out of the present while working on his true crime book involving the family. It is through interactions with these characters that the reader discovers that the rest of the Blackwood clan was poisoned. Their existence is an unusual one but structured, which is just how Merricat likes it. Then cousin Charles arrives and upends Merricat's orderly existence. Charles's increasingly boorish and domineering behavior, along with the festering resentment from the nearby village create a powderkeg that ultimately explodes, but like the title implies, Merricat remains, eternal, unknowable, a violent trap just waiting to be sprung.
The 2018 movie surprisingly follows the book with a few additions to the plot to tell this story visually. From American Horror Story's Taissa Farmiga and Baywatch's Alexandria Daddario to Winter Soldier Sebastian Stan and generally creepy dad Crispin Glover, this movie can actually be called star-studded. The direction and cinematography reminds me of many quirky directors, such as the title cards reminiscent of a Wes Anderson film and the Danny Elfman-sounding soundtrack that'd seem right at home in a Tim Burton film. The actors also portray their characters as slightly off, particularly Farmiga's twitchy and antisocial mannerism she gives to Merricat. Director Stacie Passon's tale and camera work reminded me of a darker version of the series Pushing Daisies, even as the story takes some dark turns. She also changes to the story that render Charles a much larger douchebag than in the book, and the ending though creepy ends up being more weird than horrifying. Jackson's original story is the more terrifying because it unfolds like a piece of origami, each section opening revealing another part of the whole story, another damaged fragment of Merricat's psyche, but what's really going on isn't revealed until the paper is completely unfolded. The movie is a passable and entertaining homage to Jackson's work but the original book remains a masterclass in storytelling, demonstrating how an unreliable narrator, in what they say and don't say, reveals so much about the story.
Wednesday, February 12, 2020
Have You Read This? Doll Crimes by Karen Runge
Librarians concerned about selecting horror for libraries are often concerned about getting a book that crosses the boundaries of violence and/or good taste. They may feel more comfortable with more mainstream choices like Stephen King but might balk when having to determine if The Girl Next Door should go into the collection. My own thoughts are that horror, great horror, should push some boundaries and that libraries are responsible for selecting a wide range of materials, including horror. One example of such a book that should be in a library's collection is Karen Runge's novel Doll Crimes, a book that brazenly and beautifully tells a horrifying and heartbreaking story.
The female protagonist in this story travels the country with her mother, using their good looks and street smarts to live off the kindness of male strangers. Told through the young girl's perspective, the reader gets a sense of this girl's hopes, dreams, and violent imaginings because the world she lives in, this vagabond lifestyle shared with her mother, slowly loses its romantic sheen over the course of the book. The readers are introduced, little by little, to what the mother does to get by as well as what it does to her daughter. By the end of the book, the daughter grows as a person, but not necessarily a well-adjusted one.
What makes Doll Crimes such an extreme book is not the level of violence, really hardly any actual blood is spilled in the novel, but this book does delve into some dark corners of the human psyche through the unreliable view of the daughter and the slow realization of the tragedy that her life has become. I have made a lot of comparisons to The Girl Next Door in this review, and the actual physical violence in Doll Crimes is considerably less than that work, but Runge's work will also tear at the reader's heart as they see a young girl broken by the people that were supposed to be protecting her.
The female protagonist in this story travels the country with her mother, using their good looks and street smarts to live off the kindness of male strangers. Told through the young girl's perspective, the reader gets a sense of this girl's hopes, dreams, and violent imaginings because the world she lives in, this vagabond lifestyle shared with her mother, slowly loses its romantic sheen over the course of the book. The readers are introduced, little by little, to what the mother does to get by as well as what it does to her daughter. By the end of the book, the daughter grows as a person, but not necessarily a well-adjusted one.
What makes Doll Crimes such an extreme book is not the level of violence, really hardly any actual blood is spilled in the novel, but this book does delve into some dark corners of the human psyche through the unreliable view of the daughter and the slow realization of the tragedy that her life has become. I have made a lot of comparisons to The Girl Next Door in this review, and the actual physical violence in Doll Crimes is considerably less than that work, but Runge's work will also tear at the reader's heart as they see a young girl broken by the people that were supposed to be protecting her.
Wednesday, February 5, 2020
Fearsome Five: Top Five Reimaginings of Frankenstein
On February 1st, 1851, Mary Shelley passed away but not before she cemented her legacy in the burgeoning horror genre. Frankenstein, her seminal story about monsters and the men that don't think about the consequences of creating them, lives on in everything from classic movies to cereal mascots. Its longevity is, in part, because this story, like all good horror and science fiction, hits on some timeless and timely themes, ranging from relationships with creators (parents?) to hubris disguised as the pursuit of science, has allowed this tale to come back in a myriad of forms, like its monster, pieced together from our own experiences, cultures, and folklore. On this, the anniversary of her death, to celebrate the monster she has brought to life and we keep resuscitating, here are my top five Frankenstein-inspired reading suggestions.
5) Made Men: Getting the Gang Back Together: It's a continuation of the Frankenstein mythos with a little Kill Bill and Lethal Weapon thrown into the mix. Easily one of the more original takes, this graphic novel, written by Paul Tobin of Colder fame, features Jutte, a police officer and ancestor of the infamous Doctor Frankenstein. When a bust goes wrong, she brings her team back from the dead, more or less, and back together to get revenge on the lowlifes that tried to kill them. This book features hard-boiled modern noir and a guy with a lion's head, if you're into one or the other. Or even both.
4) Monster: A Novel of Frankenstein: David Zeltserman's novel is told from the monster's perspective, and he turns out to be more sympathetic in many ways than in the original story. The monster, named Friedrich, evolves throughout the story into a hero who must stop the evil doctor Victor Frankenstein, a depraved individual and the man responsible for Friedrich's resurrection. Friedrich has his share of supernatural adventures, encountering vampires and Satanists, but still manages to keep the focus on the dichotomy between the monster at its maker.
3) Mary Shelley Monster Hunter: Vol. 1 Abomination: Not only does this graphic novel retell the Frankenstein story but also weaves within it the story of its creator. The tale begins in a Mary Shelley museum and goes back to Mary Shelley's inspiration for the tale, a trip with her fiancee Percy Shelley as well as their companion Lord Byron. Forced out of their accommodations, the group must spend the winter in the castle of Dr. Victoria Frankenstein, where Shelley discovers her real-life attempts to create life. This feminist take, with the doctor and monster maker being a woman, doesn't skimp on the horror and suspense, and authors Adam Glass and Olivia Cuartero-Briggs create something unique while paying homage to a well-known story. It's a tightrope they seem to walk with ease.
2) Frankenstein in Baghdad: Ahmed Saadawi takes the familiar tale far from its European roots and creates a timely fantastic tale in the process. Hadi scavenges up the parts of people and stitches them together in order for the dead to be recognized by the government and given a proper burial. However, Hadi soon discovers that his creation gets a mind of its own, a mind centered on revenge and on keeping itself alive by stealing replacement parts. This story excels in showing the struggles of war-torn Iraq using the lens of the fantastic.
1) Victor LaValle's Destroyer: Another timely retelling/continuation of the Frankenstein mythos that leans into the tragedy of police shootings, the tension of contemporary race relations, and the all-too familiar narrative of lives taken too soon. Dr. Baker is a mother who loses her young son to a police shooting. Of course, as a scientist and a descendant of Dr. Frankenstein's, she has the tools to rectify this situation and seek revenge on the world that allowed this tragedy to happen. Expect lots of superscience and secret government organizations, but LaValle's work also forces us to look at what our society has become and whether or not we can do anything about it.
5) Made Men: Getting the Gang Back Together: It's a continuation of the Frankenstein mythos with a little Kill Bill and Lethal Weapon thrown into the mix. Easily one of the more original takes, this graphic novel, written by Paul Tobin of Colder fame, features Jutte, a police officer and ancestor of the infamous Doctor Frankenstein. When a bust goes wrong, she brings her team back from the dead, more or less, and back together to get revenge on the lowlifes that tried to kill them. This book features hard-boiled modern noir and a guy with a lion's head, if you're into one or the other. Or even both.
4) Monster: A Novel of Frankenstein: David Zeltserman's novel is told from the monster's perspective, and he turns out to be more sympathetic in many ways than in the original story. The monster, named Friedrich, evolves throughout the story into a hero who must stop the evil doctor Victor Frankenstein, a depraved individual and the man responsible for Friedrich's resurrection. Friedrich has his share of supernatural adventures, encountering vampires and Satanists, but still manages to keep the focus on the dichotomy between the monster at its maker.
3) Mary Shelley Monster Hunter: Vol. 1 Abomination: Not only does this graphic novel retell the Frankenstein story but also weaves within it the story of its creator. The tale begins in a Mary Shelley museum and goes back to Mary Shelley's inspiration for the tale, a trip with her fiancee Percy Shelley as well as their companion Lord Byron. Forced out of their accommodations, the group must spend the winter in the castle of Dr. Victoria Frankenstein, where Shelley discovers her real-life attempts to create life. This feminist take, with the doctor and monster maker being a woman, doesn't skimp on the horror and suspense, and authors Adam Glass and Olivia Cuartero-Briggs create something unique while paying homage to a well-known story. It's a tightrope they seem to walk with ease.
2) Frankenstein in Baghdad: Ahmed Saadawi takes the familiar tale far from its European roots and creates a timely fantastic tale in the process. Hadi scavenges up the parts of people and stitches them together in order for the dead to be recognized by the government and given a proper burial. However, Hadi soon discovers that his creation gets a mind of its own, a mind centered on revenge and on keeping itself alive by stealing replacement parts. This story excels in showing the struggles of war-torn Iraq using the lens of the fantastic.
1) Victor LaValle's Destroyer: Another timely retelling/continuation of the Frankenstein mythos that leans into the tragedy of police shootings, the tension of contemporary race relations, and the all-too familiar narrative of lives taken too soon. Dr. Baker is a mother who loses her young son to a police shooting. Of course, as a scientist and a descendant of Dr. Frankenstein's, she has the tools to rectify this situation and seek revenge on the world that allowed this tragedy to happen. Expect lots of superscience and secret government organizations, but LaValle's work also forces us to look at what our society has become and whether or not we can do anything about it.
Wednesday, January 29, 2020
New Arrival: We Are Monsters by Brian Kirk
Nightmares are terrifying, as well as great inspiration for horror, because a) they are a movie reel of terrifying imagery and symbolism--especially if you believe in dream analysis--and b) they unravel in a disjointed, haphazard way along with other logical aspects of the waking world, leading to c) an environment where we have little to no control. Such an environment is a breeding ground for horror, as Freddy Krueger would attest. But there's another new King of Nightmares on the horizon named Brian Kirk, who establishes his reign with his latest novel, We Are Monsters.
The story begins with psychiatrist Alex creating a chemical cure for schizophrenia. People familiar with how science works in these kinds of stories know that it's basically Murphy's Law times a million, that anything bad that can happen will and it will be catastrophic. In his rush to test this formula, he experiments first on his brother Jerry and then on a notorious killer whose mental issues are seemingly given form and substance, along with the nightmares of other hospital staff and its patients. If horror stories are thought of as roller coasters, this book is definitely a fun house where the floor moves and the walls are mirrors offering only twisted reflections. This book can be considered a metaphorical swipe at an industry and society that overly medicates, which may turn off people who like their fiction without opinions (not the best fiction), but it does so without any overt monologues.
People familiar with Brian Kirk's Will Haunt You know that Brian excels at creating an environment where the lead character, nor the reader, cannot trust anyone or anything. What they've expected about the world and its safety, in Kirk's fiction universes, should not be taken for granted. The Fun House aspect of the book mentioned before takes a bit to get there. Kirk lays the storytelling groundwork, setting up the plot and its bananas conclusion while letting the readers get to know the characters before the tentacles of this well-crafted nightmare pulls them in. Perhaps a better analogy for this book then is an elaborate domino set-up. Kirk takes his sweet time placing the dominoes, but they create quite the spectacle when they finally fall. If Brian Kirk is the new King of Nightmares, long may he reign (or at least keep writing).
The story begins with psychiatrist Alex creating a chemical cure for schizophrenia. People familiar with how science works in these kinds of stories know that it's basically Murphy's Law times a million, that anything bad that can happen will and it will be catastrophic. In his rush to test this formula, he experiments first on his brother Jerry and then on a notorious killer whose mental issues are seemingly given form and substance, along with the nightmares of other hospital staff and its patients. If horror stories are thought of as roller coasters, this book is definitely a fun house where the floor moves and the walls are mirrors offering only twisted reflections. This book can be considered a metaphorical swipe at an industry and society that overly medicates, which may turn off people who like their fiction without opinions (not the best fiction), but it does so without any overt monologues.
People familiar with Brian Kirk's Will Haunt You know that Brian excels at creating an environment where the lead character, nor the reader, cannot trust anyone or anything. What they've expected about the world and its safety, in Kirk's fiction universes, should not be taken for granted. The Fun House aspect of the book mentioned before takes a bit to get there. Kirk lays the storytelling groundwork, setting up the plot and its bananas conclusion while letting the readers get to know the characters before the tentacles of this well-crafted nightmare pulls them in. Perhaps a better analogy for this book then is an elaborate domino set-up. Kirk takes his sweet time placing the dominoes, but they create quite the spectacle when they finally fall. If Brian Kirk is the new King of Nightmares, long may he reign (or at least keep writing).
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
Have You Read This? The Twisted Ones
Folk horror seems to be a trend right now. Whether that's a backlash to the encroachment of technological advancement, with people sacrificing traditions on the altar of Apple, or the evolution of writers who like Stephen King had found supernatural horror in a very familiar small town America, folk horror has been receiving attention in both the movies and in novels. Before continuing with this review, however, I should offer some defining characteristics of folk horror:
The story focuses on Mouse, a woman who is tasked with cleaning out her grandmother's house. Joined by her dog Bongo, she encounters a house that is overflowing with clutter as well as a secret world in the woods behind her grandmother's house. With only some quirky local characters, some bizarre stones, and the words of a stepgrandfather she barely knew to guider her, Mouse is gradually pulled into this world and attracts the interest of the eponymous twisted ones.
The character of Mouse is a very sympathetic character and a humorous first person narrator. Her humor is something that doesn't distract from the creepy atmosphere of the novel but endears us to her struggles both supernatural and mundane. Another surprising positive in the book is the relationship she has with her dog Bongo. Some may find it distracting that she talks about her dog, but Kingfisher shows Mouse's obvious love for her best friend and Bongo also gets the opportunity to return that love by helping his master discover who the twisted ones and their masters are.
The twisted ones and their masters are also an appeal of the book, particularly for those who like world-building and who likes their worlds weird. The twisted ones are given names by everyone else, from effigies to poppets, but they are all unique, terrifying, and described well by Kingfisher. Made from everything from wire to bones, stones to wasps' nest, the images of these junk and corpse piles animated and full of intent provides some disturbing images that make me look forward to a graphic novel adaptation.
These two elements, the relatable Mouse and her experiences with the bizarrely unrelatable twisted ones, creates a dynamic that kept me reading until the last page. The rural setting offers an anchor for Mouse, but it's ultimately the love of her friends, both two-legged, and four that ultimately gives the book its center.
- Typically a rural setting.
- A religion or ideology that goes beyond traditional Christianity (or completely twisting Christianity out of shape, as in "Children of the Corn").
- The land or earth is involved in the religion/ideology the story references. This may also lead to a kind of ritual.
The story focuses on Mouse, a woman who is tasked with cleaning out her grandmother's house. Joined by her dog Bongo, she encounters a house that is overflowing with clutter as well as a secret world in the woods behind her grandmother's house. With only some quirky local characters, some bizarre stones, and the words of a stepgrandfather she barely knew to guider her, Mouse is gradually pulled into this world and attracts the interest of the eponymous twisted ones.
The character of Mouse is a very sympathetic character and a humorous first person narrator. Her humor is something that doesn't distract from the creepy atmosphere of the novel but endears us to her struggles both supernatural and mundane. Another surprising positive in the book is the relationship she has with her dog Bongo. Some may find it distracting that she talks about her dog, but Kingfisher shows Mouse's obvious love for her best friend and Bongo also gets the opportunity to return that love by helping his master discover who the twisted ones and their masters are.
The twisted ones and their masters are also an appeal of the book, particularly for those who like world-building and who likes their worlds weird. The twisted ones are given names by everyone else, from effigies to poppets, but they are all unique, terrifying, and described well by Kingfisher. Made from everything from wire to bones, stones to wasps' nest, the images of these junk and corpse piles animated and full of intent provides some disturbing images that make me look forward to a graphic novel adaptation.
These two elements, the relatable Mouse and her experiences with the bizarrely unrelatable twisted ones, creates a dynamic that kept me reading until the last page. The rural setting offers an anchor for Mouse, but it's ultimately the love of her friends, both two-legged, and four that ultimately gives the book its center.
Monday, January 13, 2020
Twisted Minds: Christopher Buehlman
With my column Twisted Minds, I like to showcase artists/writers who I feel haven't been given the attention they deserve, creators that have fallen under the radar for whatever reason but are still producing quality, entertaining work. I don't measure the reviews they've gotten on Amazon or Goodreads, however. These are really authors that have slipped under my own personal radar and I am joyfully discovering their body of work. Christopher Buehlman has been publishing novels since 2011 but I have just now discovered him. I feel that readers looking for fresh and fun reinventions of classic horror tropes should discover him as well.
I first discovered his book The Lesser Dead and immediately fell in love with vampire vagabond Joey Peacock, a perpetually young lover of the nightlife who guides readers through late '70s New York and its nocturnal hunters of blood and good times. The book begins with a tone reminiscent of the autobiographies of bon vivants just now recovering from the hangover while knowing they had so much fun. Then the book becomes straight horror as some new, more frightening predators move in. You won't believe a phrase like "Let's make a rabbit of him" can be bone-chilling until you read this book.
I next checked out the novel's sort-of sequel The Suicide Motor Club. I say sort-of sequel because it still features vampires but many of these vampires do not invoke any sympathy, especially the leader of the eponymous club Luther Nixon. Luther is a former ridgerunner/race car driver who, along with his crew, run drivers off the road only to feast on the remains. He is crass, loud, and swimming in confidence thanks to his vampiric "charm," which mentally subjugates his victims when he needs them to forget his crew's presence or to simply humiliate and debase them before feeding. The Club soon run across mother Judith and her family, destroying her life and stealing her child. When life as a nun doesn't give Judith the peace she craves, she is recruited as a weapon by a group of vampire hunters. Think about what would happen if the paper scripts for Kill Bill and From Dusk Till Dawn fell down some stairs, were scattered, and then scooped back together into one larger movie.
I recently finished Those Across the River, Buehlman's first novel. It features Frank Nichols and his wife Eudora, a couple from Chicago who have moved down to Georgia to start a new life in a house he inherited. It sounds like the set-up to a conventional ghost story, but this is not a ghost story. It has elements of Southern Gothic, some folk horror, and a heavy dash of monster mayhem. To tell any more about the plot would reveal the twist in the book, but it does give a tragic update to a classic monster, one that's quite different from the power fantasies many paranormal romances, for example, indulge in.
These three books showcase Buehlman's talents for weaving seemingly unconnected plot threads into a rich tapestry that readers can appreciate once they reach the final page. For writers that love a good plot, these books offer an example of how to create one with multiple plot points. For writers (and readers) who love character development, these books also create three-dimensional characters that you fall in love with only to have their tragic circumstances, which are laid like landmines within the plot, break your heart. Like riding a roller coaster, you may feel a little queasy after reading them (particularly if you're squeamish, for Buehlman doesn't shy away from the violence), but the thrills will keep you coming back for more.
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| Christopher Buehlman |
I next checked out the novel's sort-of sequel The Suicide Motor Club. I say sort-of sequel because it still features vampires but many of these vampires do not invoke any sympathy, especially the leader of the eponymous club Luther Nixon. Luther is a former ridgerunner/race car driver who, along with his crew, run drivers off the road only to feast on the remains. He is crass, loud, and swimming in confidence thanks to his vampiric "charm," which mentally subjugates his victims when he needs them to forget his crew's presence or to simply humiliate and debase them before feeding. The Club soon run across mother Judith and her family, destroying her life and stealing her child. When life as a nun doesn't give Judith the peace she craves, she is recruited as a weapon by a group of vampire hunters. Think about what would happen if the paper scripts for Kill Bill and From Dusk Till Dawn fell down some stairs, were scattered, and then scooped back together into one larger movie.
I recently finished Those Across the River, Buehlman's first novel. It features Frank Nichols and his wife Eudora, a couple from Chicago who have moved down to Georgia to start a new life in a house he inherited. It sounds like the set-up to a conventional ghost story, but this is not a ghost story. It has elements of Southern Gothic, some folk horror, and a heavy dash of monster mayhem. To tell any more about the plot would reveal the twist in the book, but it does give a tragic update to a classic monster, one that's quite different from the power fantasies many paranormal romances, for example, indulge in.
These three books showcase Buehlman's talents for weaving seemingly unconnected plot threads into a rich tapestry that readers can appreciate once they reach the final page. For writers that love a good plot, these books offer an example of how to create one with multiple plot points. For writers (and readers) who love character development, these books also create three-dimensional characters that you fall in love with only to have their tragic circumstances, which are laid like landmines within the plot, break your heart. Like riding a roller coaster, you may feel a little queasy after reading them (particularly if you're squeamish, for Buehlman doesn't shy away from the violence), but the thrills will keep you coming back for more.
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