Tag: book review

Why Year of The Mer works

I received an ARC copy of Year of The Mer by L.D Lewis. And when I read the description, I was hooked almost at once. A dark retelling of The Little Mermaid that is bloody and saphic? Yes, please. The Little Mermaid was my favorite Disney movie growing up. And, you know, bloody horror is kind of my jam.

Now that I’ve read it, I can honestly say that it surpassed even my high expectations. I feel confident comparing it to the work of Tamora Pierce. If you’ve been around here for any length of time, you know the sort of compliment that is. And yes, we need to talk about why it works.

What happens after happily ever after?

We all love a good fairy tale. But often we’re left with so many questions. Because, of course, life doesn’t end at happily ever after.

In the Disney version of Ariel, she and Prince Eric get their happily ever after. However, their lives go on after that. And I don’t know how much you know about royal marriages, but they’re not just for love. A marriage in which someone is going to inherit a throne, and in which someone else is going to abdicate their throne, has impacts for other people besides the two exchanging vows.

Especially when one of those two people is a totally different species and is considered a deity by half the population. It’s gonna make shit weird.

The fallout from this situation is where our main character, Yemaya Blackgate, finds herself. She’s the granddaughter of Ariel (Spelled Arielle in the book) and Eric, though I don’t think he’s ever mentioned by name.

Yemi’s parents spent their lives leading their country, Ixia, in war. Many of her people blame these wars on Yemi’s mother’s mer ancestry. And she has no relationship with her mer family at all. Given all that, she’s filled with rage.

The royal people actually love each other

It’s easy to see why royalty often has a reputation for not loving their family members. However, I feel like the whole Knives Out approach to family is a bit played out. (Maybe I read too much Phillipa Gregory.) So it’s wonderful in this book to see royal family members who actually love each other. Yemi misses her father; she’s scared of losing her mother. Yemi and Nova, who are engaged, love each other. There is none of the ‘I am raising you to be royalty, so I’m not going to show you any affection’ sort of bullshit. Just people who genuinely love each other, warts and all.

The story wasn’t about being gay

Our two main characters, Yemi and Nova, are gay. They are in a gay relationship. That’s not what this story is about.

Almost all of the characters are also Black. That’s also not what this story is about.

Now, a story about being gay in this very straight world is a great thing. So is a story about being Black in societies that are very, very white. But people who are gay and Black have stories that are not about being those things.

I can’t speak for the Black community, as I am very, very white. But I am part of the LGBTQ+ community. And yeah, it’s sort of exhausting that every gay character’s story tends to be about them being gay.

This was honestly a breath of fresh air. The characters simply are gay. It’s not a crucial plot point. They can just be. Just exist.

Yemi

Finally, I am thrilled with the main character, Yemi. She feels dangerous.

Yemi loves the people she loves fiercely. She wants to be a good person. She wants to take care of her people.

But she also wants to lead. Not because she thinks she is the best person for the role, but because she feels the throne is hers. That this is something that has been taken from her when a coup takes place.

This is a dangerous sort of person. Someone who believes they’re owed obedience, power, and respect. All of this means that Yemi is the protagonist, but not necessarily the good guy.

Which, of course, made her an incredibly fun character to read.

Overall, there was only one thing I didn’t like about reading Year of The Mer. It ended on a hell of a cliffhanger. And, since I read the book before it even came out, I have no idea when book two will be released!

Year of The Mer launches on April 7th. I highly suggest you preorder it right now. Then you can join me in waiting (in)patiently for the sequel.

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Why Fluid Condensers sort of works

Launching on March 31st, Fluid Condensers is a nonfiction debut work from author Aerik Arkadian. It’s about a form of magic that is perhaps overlooked, but one that practitioners might realize they’re using on a regular basis.

I received an ARC copy from the publisher, Crossed Crow Books. What follows will be an honest review of what I liked about this book and what I didn’t. If you’re a witch like me, maybe you’ll want to check it out. If you’re a writer like me, you might learn something about writing a nonfiction book that people can’t put down.

(As an aside for my witchy followers, the forward for this book is from Christopher Penczak. He wrote one of my favorite witchcraft books, called City Magick. If you’re a witch like me who prefers city lights to a cabin in the woods, that book’s a must-read.)

The information is clear and understandable

Let’s start with the basics. The first reason to read a nonfiction book is usually to learn something. So the main goal for a nonfiction writer is to teach. To instruct. And in that sense, Fluid Condensers did a great job. It was incredibly informative about the topic at hand.

The topic, by the way, is the process of collecting and storing energy in a concoction that includes gold in some form. It’s alchemy, for those who don’t know.

Now, I am not an alchemist. So, this was a branch of magic I knew little to nothing about. But the information in this book was easy to understand. It was easy to follow, even from a novice’s perspective.

I learned things that I didn’t know, as a practicing witch of many years

And on this topic, I am, in fact, a novice. Even though I’ve been a practicing witch for years now, there are so many things I don’t know. Especially about the more alchemical aspects of magic making.

And this, in and of itself, is great. As I get older, it’s more and more rare to find something I know nothing about, literally.

This is something that, if you want to write a nonfiction book, you should strive for. Which I know can be difficult. There’s nothing new under the sun. But finding a niche topic that you’re knowledgeable about is a great thing. Not just for you, but for your readers as well.

We all want to learn something new.

This might not be the sort of book for you

All that being said, I didn’t love this book.

That’s largely on me. Witchcraft is a large tent, with so many different people interested in so many different branches and disciplines. And we all have our own fascinations.

I’m not, as I mentioned, an alchemist. I’m more of a ‘talks to trees, has tea with her ancestors, draws sigils on everything, lights too many candles, and makes friends with the Hat Man’ sort of witch. This is not that sort of witchcraft. It’s the sort that might be seen as more chemistry than charms. And that is some people’s catnip. Just not mine. So if you’re considering reading this book, keep that in mind.

This is also a good thing to remember for writers. Some people, even with the best of intentions, are not going to like your book. And it’s not necessarily because of anything you’ve done wrong. I could write the most fascinating book about the history of zombie fiction in Western PA, and if you aren’t interested in zombies, you aren’t going to give a shit about my book. Don’t take it personally.

It was rather dull

That being said, this wasn’t the most riveting book I’ve ever read. It was actually rather dull.

This, unfortunately, is on the part of the writer. This was not a provocatively written book. There was nothing in the word usage or topic that really caught my attention. It wasn’t overly engaging.

The writing was charming, don’t get me wrong. But, um, not at first. The writing at first was actually quite dry and dull.

And that’s a shame! Because as you get further into the book, Arkadian’s charm shines through. He is clearly a huge nerd. He is fascinated by the process of alchemy. He goes to music festivals and feels inspired to make alchemical concoctions that grab the amazing feelings that sort of events inspire.

Where was that inspired writing in the first few chapters? Why did this intro need to be so static, so devoid of personality?

Look, lots of people find alchemy boring. As far as magic is concerned, it’s rather a dull topic. What sells a nonfiction book about a less-than-riveting topic is the personality of the person who feels passionate about it. So a writer needs to sell us that personality right out of the gate. On the very first page, I need to know why this writer is so passionate about this specific topic.

The organization was poor, and that led to a rough read

That brings me to the biggest issue I had with this book. The organization was not great.

There are some interesting chapters in this book. I, personally, was fascinated by the history of gold. That was the part of the book that I ate up. It should have been earlier in the book. I would have been more invested.

A nonfiction book is not an obligatory read. We’re not in school anymore; nothing should feel like required reading. And, as people, we are first and foremost interested in people. So starting with the personality of the author is a good way to hook a reader. Then, explaining why the topic at hand is important to the author.

For instance, if I were writing a book about zombies in Western PA, I would start by explaining my love of George Romero. I would explain that he and I share a passion for Pittsburgh, even though neither of us was born here. This ties me emotionally to the subject at hand.

There was no sort of emotional connection in this book. And perhaps it’s just me, but that sort of connection hooks me. It makes everything else come alive.

So, in short, if you’re writing nonfiction, put more of yourself into the book. If by chance the author reads this, please don’t give up. Write more, write personally.

And if you’re interested in alchemy, check out Fluid Condensers. You’ll certainly learn a lot.

mjnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnLaunching on March 31st, Fluid Condensers is a nonfiction debut work from author Aerik Arkadian. It’s about a form of magic that is perhaps overlooked, but one that practitioners might realize they’re using on a regular basis.

I received an ARC copy from the publisher, Crossed Crow Books. What follows will be an honest review of what I liked about this book and what I didn’t. If you’re a witch like me, maybe you’ll want to check it out. If you’re a writer like me, you might learn something about writing a nonfiction book that people can’t put down.

(As an aside for my witchy followers, the forward for this book is from Christopher Penczak. He wrote one of my favorite witchcraft books, called City Magick. If you’re a witch like me who prefers city lights to a cabin in the woods, that book’s a must-read.)

The information is clear and understandable

Let’s start with the basics. The first reason to read a nonfiction book is usually to learn something. So the main goal for a nonfiction writer is to teach. To instruct. And in that sense, Fluid Condensers did a great job. It was incredibly informative about the topic at hand.

The topic, by the way, is the process of collecting and storing energy in a concoction that includes gold in some form. It’s alchemy, for those who don’t know.

Now, I am not an alchemist. So, this was a branch of magic I knew little to nothing about. But the information in this book was easy to understand. It was easy to follow, even from a novice’s perspective.

I learned things that I didn’t know, as a practicing witch of many years

And on this topic, I am, in fact, a novice. Even though I’ve been a practicing witch for years now, there are so many things I don’t know. Especially about the more alchemical aspects of magic making.

And this, in and of itself, is great. As I get older, it’s more and more rare to find something I know nothing about, literally.

This is something that, if you want to write a nonfiction book, you should strive for. Which I know can be difficult. There’s nothing new under the sun. But finding a niche topic that you’re knowledgeable about is a great thing. Not just for you, but for your readers as well.

We all want to learn something new.

This might not be the sort of book for you

All that being said, I didn’t love this book.

That’s largely on me. Witchcraft is a large tent, with so many different people interested in so many different branches and disciplines. And we all have our own fascinations.

I’m not, as I mentioned, an alchemist. I’m more of a ‘talks to trees, has tea with her ancestors, draws sigils on everything, lights too many candles, and makes friends with the Hat Man’ sort of witch. This is not that sort of witchcraft. It’s the sort that might be seen as more chemistry than charms. And that is some people’s catnip. Just not mine. So if you’re considering reading this book, keep that in mind.

This is also a good thing to remember for writers. Some people, even with the best of intentions, are not going to like your book. And it’s not necessarily because of anything you’ve done wrong. I could write the most fascinating book about the history of zombie fiction in Western PA, and if you aren’t interested in zombies, you aren’t going to give a shit about my book. Don’t take it personally.

It was rather dull

That being said, this wasn’t the most riveting book I’ve ever read. It was actually rather dull.

This, unfortunately, is on the part of the writer. This was not a provocatively written book. There was nothing in the word usage or topic that really caught my attention. It wasn’t overly engaging.

The writing was charming, don’t get me wrong. But, um, not at first. The writing at first was actually quite dry and dull.

And that’s a shame! Because as you get further into the book, Arkadian’s charm shines through. He is clearly a huge nerd. He is fascinated by the process of alchemy. He goes to music festivals and feels inspired to make alchemical concoctions that grab the amazing feelings that sort of events inspire.

Where was that inspired writing in the first few chapters? Why did this intro need to be so static, so devoid of personality?

Look, lots of people find alchemy boring. As far as magic is concerned, it’s rather a dull topic. What sells a nonfiction book about a less-than-riveting topic is the personality of the person who feels passionate about it. So a writer needs to sell us that personality right out of the gate. On the very first page, I need to know why this writer is so passionate about this specific topic.

The organization was poor, and that led to a rough read

That brings me to the biggest issue I had with this book. The organization was not great.

There are some interesting chapters in this book. I, personally, was fascinated by the history of gold. That was the part of the book that I ate up. It should have been earlier in the book. I would have been more invested.

A nonfiction book is not an obligatory read. We’re not in school anymore; nothing should feel like required reading. And, as people, we are first and foremost interested in people. So starting with the personality of the author is a good way to hook a reader. Then, explaining why the topic at hand is important to the author.

For instance, if I were writing a book about zombies in Western PA, I would start by explaining my love of George Romero. I would explain that he and I share a passion for Pittsburgh, even though neither of us was born here. This ties me emotionally to the subject at hand.

There was no sort of emotional connection in this book. And perhaps it’s just me, but that sort of connection hooks me. It makes everything else come alive.

So, in short, if you’re writing nonfiction, put more of yourself into the book. If by chance the author reads this, please don’t give up. Write more, write personally.

And if you’re interested in alchemy, check out Fluid Condensers. You’ll certainly learn a lot.

I launched a new website! If you like horror in all forms, check out Weird Wyrlds.

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Why The Witch’s Name Works

Recently, I received an ARC (Advanced reader copy) of the revised The Witch’s Name, by Storm Faerywolf. Originally published in March of 2022, the revised edition is launching on March 10th.

A name is something that we writers will think a lot about when it comes to our characters. But what about our own name? It’s not something we’re given a lot of say over. What if we got to choose our own?

Now, I understand that a lot of you are not here for witchcraft content. But stick with me. For one thing, The Witch’s Name is a great example of a well-written nonfiction book. But it’s also a topic that I think more people should consider, whether your life is mundane or magical.

Let’s discuss.

Passion for the subject

Let’s start with Storm’s writing voice. It’s clear in reading this book that the topic of chosen names is one that is of great importance to him.

Which makes sense. It’s an important subject to me as well. It feels like it should be an important subject for a lot of people.

If you’re going to write a work of nonfiction, it needs to be about something that really matters to you. Something that you really, really care about.

Writing a book takes a long time. We know this. And in order to come to the page every day, you need passion. You need discipline, sure, but discipline and passion work best when they work together.

Of course, it isn’t just about getting a book done. Passion shines through in writing. It makes any subject more interesting if the person telling you about it is passionate.

Research heavy

The Witch’s Name is a well-researched book. There is so much information in here about the history of names from different cultures. About the many different ways a name might change according to different faiths and disciplines. Then, of course, there’s the in-depth information about many famous witchy names.

(I’d add to this information that Mormons are given new names when they’re married in the Temple. But it’s very impersonal and chosen at random.)

Let me tell you, I love to see a witchcraft book that is so amazingly researched! I love to see fellow practitioners putting in the work!

Part of being a witch, for many of us, is indulging in a lifetime of study and learning. We need to understand the why of something. The when, the how.

I was fascinated by the different ways people may come to choose their own name or change their name. I was also fascinated by the many different ways we might come to find our own names. I was fascinated by the history of famous names. I learned so much. For instance, did you know there was a Roman goddess of door hinges? And that there were three total gods or goddesses of the doorway, making a doorwat trinity? That was so cool to learn!

Accessible tools!

It should surprise no one that I read quite a few witchcraft books. I also read magazines and blogs, and listen to podcasts. And one thing bothers me more than anything else when I’m consuming witchcraft content.

Here’s a hint: it’s the same thing that irritates me when I’m looking for recipes online.

I hate when a spell, ritual, or recipe calls for an ingredient or tool that I do not have and don’t know how to get. And so often this ingredient is just tossed out like everyone’s got it in the back of their spice rack.

“Here’s a quick and easy spell/recipe that you can do right now, with things you probably already have at home. Just grab some dill, a peacock feather, some ground flaxseed, distilled water from the Dead Sea, shards of non-lab-grown diamonds, the blood of a three-hundred-year-old man, and a large mixing bowl.”

There is nothing like this in The Witch’s Name. Every single ritual or spell requires simple things that are easy to come by. Candles of various colors. Simple rocks. A journal and a pen. And I am here for accessible tools!

Spicy therapy

Now, here’s where we get to the real reason I loved The Witch’s Name.

A lot of witchcraft is really just spicy therapy. Actually, a lot of the best witchcraft is spicy therapy.

Do I believe that witchcraft can influence the universe and tilt things in our favor? Yes. Do I also believe that the most powerful magic you’ll ever work is the magic you do on yourself? For sure.

The Wich’s Name is about so much more than choosing a name. It is about figuring out who you are. Or at least starting on the path to figuring out who you are, because that can be a lifelong journey.

Who are you? Not what do you do for a living. Not what are your hobbies or passions. Not who are you in relation to other people. Not what religion you are. Not what nationality you are.

Who are you?

This is a question I think we should all seek an answer to. Because everything else can be taken away. There may be a time in my life when I am not a wife, roommate, co worker, American. There might even be a day when I am not a Christian, writer or witch. And if all of those external descriptions were striped from me, who would I be then? At thirty-nine, I don’t know. But if you’d asked me before I read this book, I would have told you I did.

Why are we revising this so fast?

The Witch’s Name was fantastic. I really only had one concern.

Why did it get revised so fast?

The original text came out in 2022. That’s not that long ago.

I didn’t read the original version. So if you already have that book, I don’t know whether you should get this one or not. Personally, I always like to have the latest versions.

But if you didn’t read the original, I do recommend this one with my whole chest. I learned so much reading The Witch’s Name. And as I practice the rituals again, I think I’ll learn even more.

Now, I’m sure that as we close this out, you probably have one remaining question for me. Do I have a witch name? I do. And I highly encourage you to seek out your own. It’s incredibly empowering.

No, I’ll not be sharing mine. Names have power, after all.

If you want your own copy of The Witch’s Name, click here. This is not an affiliate link, nor was I paid for this review. I just had an arc thoughtfully gifted to me.

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Want to start of the year with a free book? Check out Seeming, book one of Station 86.

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Why House of Quiet Works

Released in September of this year, House of Quiet is the latest novel by Kiersten White. This is the same author who brought us Mister Magic, Lucy Undying, The Dark Decent of Elizabeth Frankenstein, and Hide. Which is to say, the author of some of the best books I’ve read in the past few years.

House of Quiet is about a young woman named Birdie. She’s spent the last several years trying to find her little sister Magpie, who vanished after undergoing the mysterious Procedure. Birdie poses as a maid to get into the mysterious house of quiet. But what she finds there is a group of children who need to be rescued.

Today, we’re going to break it down and see why it works. Because there’s a lot that can be learned from this wonderfully dark, sweet tale.

Just jump in

The story starts in the middle of things. It starts with a mysterious woman wandering around the House of Quiet with a candle, bemoaning how loud it was.

We then jump to Birdie, heading to the house of quiet, thinking of all of the shady things she had to do to get there.

As we follow along, we only get an idea of the world she lives in and what she’s doing. We know that she’s grown up in crippling poverty. We know that she’s never speaking to her parents again. And that’s about it.

But that’s okay, because we’re going up to the house. We’re meeting the other new maids. We’re being drugged with tea. There is stuff going on, and there will be time to explain later. The important thing is that we’re not slowing down the start of our story. We are jumping right in.

Don’t over-explain

I spent a lot of this book trying to figure out what in the hell was going on. I wanted to know what happened to Magpie. I wanted to know what the procedure was. I wanted to know what had happened to Birdie’s friends. I wanted to know why Minnow was acting so strange.

And never once was any of this simply out and out explained.

No, the story was moving too fast for that sort of thing.

This was infuriating, but in a good way. Because everything is answered, eventually. It’s just that we have to piece things together as we go. Or, we find out as the characters do.

House of Quiet brought the ‘show don’t tell’ rule almost to its breaking point, but not quite. At no point did I feel so lost I thought I’d never catch up. But it wasn’t until near the end that I really felt like I knew what was happening.

This is a hard line to walk, giving just enough information for the reader to barely understand. But, I think the easiest way to do this is to have faith in your reader. Don’t feel like you’ve got to spell everything out for them. Leave some spaces for them to fill in the blanks themselves.

Anything can be used to world build

One of the most charming things about House of Quiet was the naming structure of the characters. People raised in poverty have animal names like Minnow, Magpie, and Birdie. People from the upper class have names like River or Forest.

This is a super quick and efficient way to give us information about a character with the fewest words possible. We know the character’s name, and we know what class the character is from. And in a book that is all about class warfare, that’s vital information.

This is a great example of using every element you can to world-build. Names, clothes, jewelry. Think about how all of these things impact our real world. And yes, you should be using any of these to show your world, rather than telling us about it.

Now, all this being said, this book wasn’t perfect. My biggest complaint, I think, is the relationship between the characters. They were, in my opinion, a little too sweet. They came together too quickly. They were too kind to each other. But, of course, this is a book for young adults. So maybe that’s why.

This was not enough to ruin the story for me. House of Quiet was a fun, heartwarming tale, and I enjoyed it greatly. If you haven’t read it yet, do it today.

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And while you’re there, you can pick up a copy of my Novel Planner.

Writing a novel is a journey! Here is your roadmap.
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Also included are some useful pages to keep track of your wip, like a map page and an injury tracking chart.

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Why I love haunted houses

This is the speech I gave at my local library this past week. I’m still working on this week’s post, so please en

Hello. My name is Nicole Luttrell. I’m a local speculative fiction writer. That means I write about ghosts, dragons and spaceships. Sometimes I write about the ghosts of dragons on spaceships. 

I want to start by thanking Dianne and everyone here at the Butler Library for hosting this talk. And frankly, for being here and doing the job they do. Being a librarian has never been easy, but it seems to get harder all the time. 

I’ve written a fantasy series called Woven, which I have copies of today, about a prince who weaves visions and a princess who spins light. I also write a science fiction series called Sation 86. It’s about murder, politics and possibly the end of mankind on the station of First Contact. I have a QR code here so you can get the first book in that series free. 

But what I love writing most is horror. 

This month is my time to shine, yes. 

I became a writer for the same reason most people do. I love stories. I love reading. And that love has been well fed within these very walls for most of my life. One day it occured to me that someone had to write books the same way someone had to build cars or wait tables. Someone had to do it, so why couldn’t that be me? So I came to the library, and I found the section upstairs with the books about writing books. And there I found a copy of the Writer’s Market. 

If you’re not a writer yourself, or even if you’re just a writer who started submitting work after the internet was in everyone’s homes and pockets, you might not know about this book. It’s like a phonebook for the publishing world. Magazines, publishing companies and literary agents are all listed. Itwas a thing of beauty. An expensive thing of beauty that had to be replaced every year. But it made me feel like a real writer to use it. 

The Writer’s Market isn’t updated anymore because, again, internet. And while I certainly wouldn’t use it anymore, I’ll forever be grateful to it for helping me see that writing is a career as well as art. 

But it’s almost Halloween, and today, I want to talk about something scarrier than the publishing industry and a teenage girl’s flounderings through it. If there is anything scarrier than that. 

I wrote a book called Quiet Apocalypse. It’s about a witch named Sadie. She’s enjoying her quiet life as a school nurse, living in a cozy apartment with her dog Sage. 

Yes, Sage makes it.

Then a tree falls on her apartment building, and it lets something loose. Something bloody and dark. 

Allow me now to read the introduction. 

 The end of the world started on a dark winter night.

 Trees circled the apartment building at 437 Oakmont. They weren’t old trees, nor were they tall. Yet to look at them, one would think them ancient. They were twisted and gnarled. Every gust of wind found them, even when no other tree moved. The cold of winter clung in their branches, no matter the weather. Passersby didn’t like to dawdle along the sidewalk. The trees made them feel unwelcome. Children especially felt this, but of course, children always feel these things most keenly. 

 But we weren’t talking about children. We’ll come back to them. For now, we’re discussing the trees. 

 They’d been groaning and moaning for most of their lives. Sometimes you couldn’t hear them unless you were listening carefully. Other times the inhabitants of the apartment had to turn their TVs up to drown the trees out. But on one dark night in February, the sounds were unrelenting. There was a winter storm. The wind was hellacious, cutting through the town like a vengeful spirit. It took out hanging signs for stores on Main Street, brought down the old pine next to the library, and crashed Mr. Wallback’s patio table into his sliding glass window. Ashley Homestead regretted leaving her potted pine tree out for the night. It was thrown against the house from the back porch with such force that the pot shattered. 

Leslie Richard’s trampoline, covered over with a tarp for the season, was lifted and thrown into the yard of his next-door neighbor. 

 The wind rattled windows, pushed its way through cracks in the walls and around doors. Heaters couldn’t keep up with the sharp, blistering cold. The families in the apartment building were kept awake by it, huddled under blankets to keep warm.

The storm built up steam as it headed for Oakmont. It was as though those trees in a circle were its target, and it meant to have them. The storm came to a head at almost four in the morning. One of the trees, exhausted from a night’s battle, couldn’t hold on any longer. It came down, crashing into the roof and jutting sharp, dark branches into the attic apartment.

The wind died away almost at once. Gentle snow replaced it, covering the ice. The next morning this would cause several accidents. 

The trees that remained continued to scream, as though mourning their fallen brother.

I wrote Quiet Apocalypse for two reasons. First, I was starting to feel more comfortable as a witch. I wanted to write a character who was also a witch. A real world witch, not a magical creature one. 

Secondly, and what I really came here to talk about, I wanted to write a haunted house story. Haunted house stories have always been my favorite sort of story. The House Next Door, The Haunting of Hill House, The Amittyville Horror. These are the sort of books that keep me turning pages and rethinking every creak and groan in my own house. 

I’m not alone in my love of haunted houses. They’re a mainstay of the horror genre for a reason. We all want to think that our homes are our safe havens from the world. That our front door acts as a barrier to the bad things. The dark things.

So the thought of something lurking in the dark and dripping corners of our homes is viceral. But it’s also realistic. I would argue that haunted houses are the most realistic horror genre. 

Bad things happen in our homes. House fires from wires we didn’t even know were frayed. Carbon monoxide leaks. Storms large and powerful enough to rip and tear buildings apart. 

When was the last time you checked your smoke alarms? 

Quiet Apocalypse starts with a very mundane and realistic disaster. One that almost takes Sadie’s life before the story even starts. Allow me to read a passage.

 Sadie sat in the doorway of her ruined apartment. Her eyes were itchy, there were rivets of tears dried to her face. She had cried herself out the night before. Now she only wanted a shower and a good long rest. But, as a tree had crashed through the roof of her apartment, neither of those things could happen. 

 She knew she ought to be grateful. She’d been in the kitchen with Sage, her creamy colored lab mix when the tree came down. Branches seared through the exterior wall, crashing through her living room and bedroom. One had pierced right through her bed. It was still there, jammed right in the center of the quilt. If Sadie’d been asleep, she wouldn’t have survived. All she’d lost were things. She should be thankful for that. 

 When she was done mourning her things she would be. Her mother had made her that quilt. The crystals on the altar in her living room were all buried in the rubble. Her whole living room was a loss. What wasn’t destroyed in the crash or buried under the roof was damaged by the snow that had flooded in. 

And her books! Her family had given her irreplaceable books. Thank the Green Man Himself that her grandmother’s grimoire was at Aunt Helen’s place. But Sadie had her mother’s grimoire. And now it was destroyed. 

 She looked at the cardboard box that contained everything she now owned. There was her teapot, gray with a design of cherry blossoms. The cups that matched it had shaken loose from their shelf and shattered. 

There was her grimoire, a battered old sketchbook with a red cover. A french press, some herbs. A truly astounding assortment of tea. A handful of crystals and candles had been on her kitchen windowsill. Sage’s food and water bowl. That was all she had. 

 They were just things. Things that didn’t mean anything aside from everything. Ties to family members lost. Tools for her magical work and her mundane life. Decades of learning were destroyed in no time. 

A haunted house story can be seen as an alligory for accidents and natural disasters that threaten our families. But the ones that scare us the most, and stay with us the longest, are usually about family traumas and abuse. 

Amityville Horror is about a family tortured by dark entities until the father nearly kills everyone. But it’s also about dark financial worries. It’s about a man feeling like he failed as a provider and taking it out on his family. 

Poulterguist is about a house opening a portal to a horrific and hungry dimension. But it’s also about Suburban Sprawl and guilt. 

Quiet Apocalypse is about a demon trying to break free and cause the apocalypse. But it’s also about the fear of dying alone. Of having no one to leave behind a legacy for. 

I’ve been in a haunted house. And I bet you have too. If you’re fortunate enough to not have lived in one, you’ve visited one. It was the friend’s house where things got quiet when their mom came home from work. Or one that got way too loud. Maybe it was a family home after a funeral. 

Maybe it was just a place that didn’t feel right. It seems safe, but it doesn’t feel safe. Your instincts are screaming at you to run. To get the hell out of there despite no apparent danger. 

In my experience, it’s best to listen to those instincts. 

So we understand why cultures all over the world come back over and over to the haunted house story. But I want to go a step further and suggest that women in particular are drawn to reading and writing haunted house stories. We, along with children, tend to be the main characters and main victims of haunted house stories. 

It’s Eleanore who senses something wrong and eventually goes mad in Hill House. 

It’s Diana Freeling who insists to her husband that something’s wrong in the house, only to be dismissed until their daughter is sucked into the television. 

It’s Col Kennedy who has to convince her husband that there is something very wrong with the beautiful new house next door.

I think this is the case for a number of reasons. First, women historically spend more time at home than their spouses. Or, we at least spend more time caring for our homes and the people in them. So if the kids are talking to invisible playmates, we’re more likely to notice. If there’s blood dripping out of the ceiling, we’re probably the ones cleaning it up thinking it’s rust stains. 

At first. 

If our loved one is suddenly spending an uncomfortable amount of time with their axe collection or singing in a language we don’t recognize, we’ll probably be the ones to point it out. 

In addition to this, haunted house stories are cathartic to women. Consider how often in a horror movie the main character starts out trying like hell to convince someone, usually her partner, that something is wrong. Blood’s coming out of the faucets, there’s a spot in the back yard that’s never warm, bottles are popping and spilling with no one in the room. But no one is listening! No one else seems to see it all happen. It’s almost like they’re looking away at just the wrong time on purpose. Only to calmly and condecendingly explain the shape and color of the trees while missing the forest entirely. 

What else does that sound like to you? Maybe like trying to explain medical symptoms to your partner, or doctor? 

You just need to lose weight.

It’s the house settling.

You’re just getting older.

You didn’t hear a child screaming, it was just these old pipes. 

You’re overreacting.

You’re being histerical. 

Finally, I think women are most often main characters in haunted house stories because home is a place of guilt for us. We feel more responsible for our homes because we’re taught that we’re responsible. At least, I was. So if something is wrong with our house, it’s our fault. 

The dishes aren’t done. It doesn’t matter if we dirtied them, it’s still our fault. The laundry’s piling up, our fault. An ancient demom is cracking through the basement floor, our fault. 

Of course, as society changes so do the stories we tell. A great modern haunted house story is How To Sell A Haunted House by Grady Hendrix. The main character is acutally the one who needs convinced that something is wrong, and it’s her younger brother who does the convincing.

That book, by the way, is a great example of siblings being raised by the same people but very different parents. 

All of that being said, haunted house stories appeal to everyone. There isn’t a culture in the world that doesn’t have haunted house stories. The Himuro Mansion in Japan. The Wolfsegg Castle in Germany. Every community, neighborhood and village has a haunted house. I’m willing to bet our cave dwelling ancestors had certain caves they didn’t want to go into because they were jsut too creepy.

Finally, I would argue that haunted houses are more frightening than other supernatural elements because they are so incredibly intimate. If houses are alive, and as a witch I believe they are, they know us. They see us at our best and our worst. They see us in moments that we manage to hide from everyone else. And so if your home wanted to scare you, wanted to harm you, they’d know just how to do it. 

This is something that Sadie learns in Quiet Apocalypse. Allow me to read one final passage. 

 “Do you know where my mommy is?” the child asked. 

“I don’t know,” Sadie said. “What’s your name?” 

 The child didn’t respond. She just shook her head.

 “Where am I?” 

 Sadie swirled around. There was a little boy, standing in the middle of the main room. He looked terrified. 

 “Oh, it’s okay,” Sadie said. “Here, come over here. I’ll try to help you. I mean, I’m not really good with spirits, but I can-.” 

 “Mommy? Where am I, why can’t I see you?” 

 Another child was coming out of the bathroom. Then another. Suddenly there were two sitting on the futon, and three more standing in the middle of the room. They were all covered in blood. In their hair, on their shoes, on their clothes. It dripped onto the floor, smearing from their feet and dropping from toys or blankets they clutched.

 Sadie spun, looking around at all of the children. There were so many of them, and every moment there were more. Sage stood next to her, gasping out sharp, panicked barks. 

 “Sage, stop barking,” Sadie said. She whirled around again. “Please, calm down. I can help you, but I, I need a minute to think about what to do.” 

 They crowded towards her, reaching out with bloody hands. Crying out for her, reaching for her and pulling at her clothes. “Help, help us,” they cried. 

 “I’ll help you, I will,” Sadie said, but the children were pulling her down. 

 “Help us. You have to help us!” 

 Sadie couldn’t answer. She could barely breathe, drowning in the sea of bloody hands and crying screaming faces. She couldn’t see Sage anymore, couldn’t see anything. There were only the children, clawing at her. Killing her. 

Sadie is a school nurse. As I’m sure you can imagine, that carries an emotional burden. 

Now, unfortunately I don’t have any personal really good haunted house stories to share with you. Most of my experiences are subtle. I saw a shadowy figure out of the corner of my eye. I felt someone staring at me when there wasn’t anyone there. I found myself in a terrible mood, or unable to control my anxiety in certain parts of a house. This is all scary to live with but not overly interesting. And since you’ve all been listening to me ramble for a while now, it’s your turn. Tell us about your haunted house story in the comments below. 

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Discussing Long Quiet Highway

Published in 1993, Long Quiet Highway is the fifth book by Natalie Goldberg. Just in case you don’t know, she is the iconic writing teacher and author of Writing Down The Bones, among other amazing books about writing. This one, though, is not technically a book about writing. It’s a memoir. But, like all of her work, it sent me right to my notebook.

So today, let’s talk about Long Quiet Highway. How it’s different from her other books, and what I learned from it.

Long Quiet Highway starts with the story of Natalie as a child. Her parents were immigrants. She grew up in New York before they moved to the suburbs.

Natalie describes her childhood as being cloistered. Dull. To me, it feels cloying. Safe, fun, and full of little pleasures. Her parents clearly loved her and supported her. But there was little art in her life. There was little to wake her up, to make her feel alive.

This is used as an introduction to a teacher who woke her up. That encouraged her to listen to the rain. To experience it.

As an adult, Natalie taught high school. Or, maybe middle school. I’m honestly not sure which, and I don’t think it matters. While she was teaching the same bland curriculum she herself had learned, she felt lost and dull. Asleep. That’s when she decided to quit her job and join a Zen commune.

Because I guess that’s a thing you can do?!

For years, Natalie learned meditation and Zen from several teachers. Until she met one that changed her life, Katagiri Roshi.

He’s changed mine as well. But we’ll get to that.

The focus on the subject is solid

Through the book, it can feel like the story sort of rambles. One minute, Natalie’s talking about a train ride she took with a friend. The next she’s talking about learning Zen. Then we’re at a diner ordering a soda.

It’s only when we step back and look at the story as a whole that it makes sense. That we realize that every step was going in the right direction, we just couldn’t see the end of the path yet.

This was a fantastic way of memoir writing. Rather than going in strict chronological order, we skip around. It allows us to become completely immersed in the true subject of the story without even realizing it.

Even when she’s not talking about writing, she’s always talking about writing

I mentioned earlier that Long Quiet Highway is not a book about writing. It is about Natalie’s life. But here’s the thing. Natalie’s life is about writing. She writes passionately. She teaches writing. She exudes writing. This woman writes like the rest of us check social media. So when she talks about her life, she is talking about her writing.

In this way, much can be learned about the habit of writing from this book. Write when you’re happy. Write when you’re sad. Write when you don’t think you can possibly get yourself up off the ground. Fuck it, write from the ground, then. Write when you feel inspired and when you feel dull. Write when you’d much rather be eating chocolate.

Just keep your hand moving.

This is the best advice I’ve ever gotten about writing. Don’t worry about it being good, at least not at first. A lot of your first draft is going to be shit, no matter how many books you’ve written and how many you will write. Trust me, I speak from experience. I have published 12 books, and my rough drafts are still terrible. Hell, my second drafts are also bad. It’s only by the third draft that the story becomes anything I might consider letting someone else see.

And that’s okay. The purpose of a first draft is simply to exist. So if you’re still trying to complete your first piece, but you’re worried it isn’t good enough, it is. Just keep your hand moving.

Her work makes me want to live

I’ve mentioned before that reading Natalie Goldberg always makes me want to write more. More than that, it makes me want to live more. To do more things and to do them deeply.

Never before have I experienced a person who so deeply experiences every part of their life. She talks in such detail about going to get a croissant. Of riding the train.

Goldberg’s work makes me want to sit outside and feel the sun. To write about the rain, the people arguing in the parking lot outside of my window, and the cupcake I bought at a festival.

She also makes me want to travel. To go out and explore the world. To take a long trip alone or just a different route home.

The legacy of a teacher

Finally, I want to talk about how teachers can touch the lives of people they will never meet.

I am not a Buddhist. I am not a Zen student. I practice meditation, but more in a witchy way than a Zen way. And I certainly never met the famous teacher Katagiri Roshi.

And yet he has touched my life in a profound way. Because Natalie Goldberg was his student. And she wouldn’t have written Writing Down The Bones if it hadn’t been for his teachings.

Because of this, Goldberg was able to touch my life. I have learned so much from her work, and I continue to do so. Someday I want to actually work with her, attend one of her workshops. But for now, I have her words, and am one of the many students she’s inspired.

And Natalie is only one of Katagiri’s students. His kind, supportive teachings have touched countless lives.

I highly recommend reading Long Quiet Highway. As well as any of Natalie’s books. If you want to be a writer, or get into mediation, or just experience life more, this book will help you do that.

It will help you wake up.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what I do here, please consider liking and sharing this post and leaving a comment. You can also support me financially on Ko-fi.

Spooky season is coming, and it’s time for some creepy reads. Check out my horror novel Quiet Apocalypse, about a witch trapped in her apartment during a dark winter storm with a demon devoted to ending the world.

Or check out my horror short, The Man In The Woods. A man tries desperately to protect his granddaughter from the mysterious man in the woods. But his fear only grows when a new housing complex is built too close to the woods.

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Why The Dead Husband Cookbook Works

I will do my best to avoid food puns in this post. But I might not be able to help it. Sometimes they’re just too tasty.

See, we’re starting already.

Released on the fifth of this month, The Dead Husband Cookbook is the latest novel from Danielle Valentine. If you’re just joining us, she’s written three novels so far that I’ve absolutely devoured.

Wow, two so far.

The Dead Husband Cookbook is about two women. One, Thea, an editor who’s hanging onto her career by a thread. She committed the ultimate sin of, gasp, revealing an author she was working for to be a predator. But she’s given a chance to redeem herself when a celebrity chef, Maria Capello, asks for her specifically to edit her brand new memoir. The memoir, which might, after years of speculation, put to rest the rumors of how her husband died.

So let’s break it down, like a good recipe. Let’s talk about what went into The Dead Husband Cookbook and why it works.

I loved the recipes

Through the book, we’re treated to some of Maria’s recipes. Now, I’m not as deeply into cooking as I am some other things, but I do enjoy it. I like a simple recipe full of things I can recognize and easily get at Walmart. I like making a recipe with the tools already in my kitchen.

I have managed to not buy an immersion blender for thirty-nine years, and I’d like to keep it that way.

All of these recipes are like that. Well, maybe not the one for duck. I’ve never seen duck at a grocery store here in Western PA. But then, I’ve never looked for one.

I got the e-book version of this book, just to make sure I can hang onto the recipes and try them. This made me feel immersed in the story. I, like Thea, will try my hand at making Maria Capello’s meatballs. Mine probably won’t taste the same either.

But it’s these little details that make reading a book not a passive experience. You get to become part of the story in a small way. That’s fun.

This feels like a book within a book

I am always a sucker for stories with additional documents in them. Journal entries, a VHS someone found tucked behind the guest room dresser, old medical records. And in this case, a manuscript that Thea is editing. As a reader, it breaks up the flow of the story in a good way. We feel like we have as well found something illicit. Something we’re not supposed to read or see, but now we’ve got our hands on it.

As a writer, this is also fun. It’s a way to experiment with different writing styles and formats. Even with different voices, as the pov of found content is different from our main characters. This leaves you open to all sorts of fun experimentation. And if the writer’s having fun, the reader will too. And Valentine was having fun when she was writing Maria.

Maria is creepy as hell, but not for the normal reasons

I loved the character, Maria. As someone who’s spent way too much time in medical waiting rooms, I’m familiar with the celebrity chefs she’s based on. The Pioneer Woman, Martha Stewart, The Barefoot Contessa, Rachel Ray. They all give off this air of near perfection. Like Maria, they appear smiling, joyful, endlessly energetic and endlessly working to feed others. I am a rabid feminist and I still sort of want to be that. I want to be the woman who saunters into a gorgeous, well-lit kitchen and throws together a fabulous meal without getting a single stain on my expensive blouse.

But I think we all know that these women are performing. They’re acting. And under that character, they’re real people. People with a whole range of human emotions and access to many sharp knives.

Maria isn’t scary in the way the killers from Never Flinch or Mexican Gothic are. She’s more like President Snow. She has the power, the money, and the know-how to destroy anyone she wants. She also has the will to do so. And she’ll sleep well that night.

Thea is very relatable

Unlike Maria, Thea is a relatable character. She’s struggling in a very Millennial way, trying to care for her family and her mother. She doesn’t know how to talk about what she needs to other people. She doesn’t know how to stand up to anyone at the start of the book.

But she’ll stand up for other people.

I also loved how much of a mom Thea is. Early in the book, she notes that Maria’s granddaughter has impeccable table manners. She’s not impressed, she’s concerned. That kid sat at the table and ate with a fork without spilling or interrupting seven times with incomprehensible questions? Nope, doesn’t pass the vibe check.

I also loved her constant irritation at having no internet connection. Look, I can’t do my work without the internet either. I have three tabs open just to write this post. She’s not irritated because she can’t scroll through Instagram before bed. She needs to be in communication with the people who depend on her and do research, damn it! Let the woman access Zoom.

The tension is thick

I was nervous as soon as Thea stepped into Maria’s house. It felt like she was stepping into a killing bottle. A well-appointed one, an expensive one, but a killing bottle nonetheless.

It started when they took her phone. Then her keys. Then she couldn’t get out through the Wi-Fi.

I don’t think we realize sometimes how accustomed we’ve come to being able to communicate with others. We can casually chat with people all over the world. I haven’t seen my best friend face-to-face since December. We talk all day long.

As soon as Thea arrives, though, she can’t contact anyone. Not just anyone. She can’t communicate with her boss, who is looking for an excuse to fire her. She can’t communicate with her team, who are waiting to make crucial publishing decisions on a short deadline. She can’t communicate with her husband and daughter.

Setting aside the horror part of this horror story, that is an anxious situation. Not being able to reach people who might need us, who usually do need us, is stressful.

As always, horror works best when it’s grounded in reality. Most of us will not be trapped in a killer chef’s house. All of us have felt stressed out because someone might need us, and can’t reach us. So when that layer of physical danger is layered over this emotion that we are familiar with, it feels so much more real.

I adored The Dead Husband Cookbook. Aside from everything else, it was a grown-up horror. It was a scary story that felt real to adult experiences. It relied on real fears and anger that real adults feel. All in all, it’s another hit from an author who hasn’t missed yet.

So now I want to hear from you. Did you read The Dead Husband Cookbook? Let us know what you think in the comments. And if there’s a book you want me to pick apart to see why it works, let me know that as well.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what I do here, please consider liking and sharing this post and leaving a comment. You can also support me financially on Ko-fi.

Spooky season is coming, and it’s time for some creepy reads. Check out my horror novel Quiet Apocalypse, about a witch trapped in her apartment during a dark winter storm with a demon devoted to ending the world.

Or check out my horror short, The Man In The Woods. A man tries desperately to protect his granddaughter from the mysterious man in the woods. But his fear only grows when a new housing complex is built too close to the woods.

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Why The Bewitching Works

Released on July 15th, The Bewitching is the latest book from Sylvia Moreno-Garcia. If you don’t know who that is, where have you been?

It’s the story of three women battling dark entities and evil workings. A story that spans decades and miles to tie Mexican witchcraft with New England witchcraft. It’s about blood, greed, and power.

In this book, we meet Alba, a restless young woman who wants to escape her family’s farm with her dashing uncle. We also meet her great-granddaughter, Minerva, a college student suffering from burnout while working on her thesis. Finally, and my personal favorite, we meet Beatrice Tremblay, a young writer in love with her college roommate who mysteriously vanishes one cold, dark winter night.

I loved every second of it. So let’s take the story apart and talk about why The Bewitching works.

Every time I talk about Moreno-Garcia, I have to talk about her settings. When reading one of her stories, you can feel the places her characters live in. In Alba’s parts, we walk on a family-run Mexican farm, plucking chickens and sewing patches on rowdy children’s clothes. When we’re with Beatrice, we can feel the constrained and manicured lives of female college students during the Great Depression. Minerva’s parts feel like a campus town in the summer. All but abandoned.

We see this and feel this because each character feels these things. It’s in the small bits of internal monologue. An itchy collar on a dress. Meeting your dance date in the lobby of your dorm. The trees rustling, the sunlight turned green coming through their leaves.

It’s the smallest details, told matter-of-factly, that make this possible. The characters talk about what they’re experiencing with their senses as though we must know what that feels like. And we do.

A major theme in Moreno-Garcia’s books is romance. Love stories. In Bewitching, the theme is more about lost love. More than that, losing the opportunity for love. The almost romance that will never be. That sort of thing.

This is something I think most of us have felt. The unrequited crush. The relationship was just never timed right. Or the love that was taken from us by the tragedy of one sort or another.

This makes the pain of the characters relatable. And it’s something I don’t think we see enough of in fiction.

There are plenty of meet-cutes. (Bleh). Plenty of slow burn, will they won’t they sort of stories. Even plenty of loves taken too soon. But they got to the love part first.

Losing someone who was never really yours is a different sort of pain. It’s strange, still trying to shift through feelings that were never fully grown. Strange to explain to people why you feel how you feel. Because it’s not the loss of a life or a loved one. It’s the loss of what could have been, and now never will. This is something that is explored in heartbreaking detail in this book.

Finally, I have to talk about the witchcraft in The Bewitching. Because, just in case you didn’t know, I’m a practitioner. There’s a lit spell candle on my desk as I write this.

Much like in Silver Nitrate, another book by the same author, the witchcraft in this book makes sense. I loved the practitioners in Alba’s village, selling protections and trinkets. It feels real. I loved Ginny’s automatic writing being used to contact her mother. I loved the cryptic warnings and tarot cards. And I especially loved the explicit explanation of intent in this book. Because I can tell you from experience, intent is the most important thing in witchcraft. No spell works without it. But I have worked magic with nothing but my intent and words on a page. Candles, crystals and herbs are all well and good. Iron and bowls of blessed water are lovely. But nothing matters more than intent.

I’ve mentioned before that Sylvia Moreno-Garcia is either a practitioner or did all the right research. Either way, the witchcraft in The Bewitching gets this witch’s seal of approval.

If you haven’t read The Bewitching yet, go do it. If you have read it and loved it as much as I did, you have great taste. I recommend reading Lucy Undying by Kiersten White, Mexican Gothic by Sylvia Moreno-Garcia, The Hacienda by Isabel Canas, or Quiet Apocalypse by me. Each one has a witchy or historical vibe that will certainly keep you up at night.

Now I want to hear from you. Did you read The Bewitching? If so, what did you think of it? Let us know in the comments. And if there’s a book or movie you want me to pick apart to see why it works, let me know that as well.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what I do here, please consider liking and sharing this post and leaving a comment. You can also support me financially on Ko-fi.

Spooky season is coming, and it’s time for some creepy reads. Check out my horror novel Quiet Apocalypse, about a witch trapped in her apartment during a dark winter storm with a demon devoted to ending the world.

Or check out my horror short, The Man In The Woods. A man tries desperately to protect his granddaughter from the mysterious man in the woods. But his fear only grows when a new housing complex is built too close to the woods.

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A retrospective on the Hunger Games series

“If a book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children,” 

–Madeleine L’Engle

Hello, my name is Nicole. I’m thirty-nine years old, and I love young adult fiction. No, I don’t think we need a support group for this. Unless we all support each other in telling people who judge us to mind their own damn business.

One of my favorite series is Hunger Games. It’s been getting a lot of talk recently, with the release of the latest prequel, Sunrise on The Reaping. The good news is that the book was terrific. The bad news is that Suzanne Collins has said publically that this will likely be the last Hunger Games book.

However, I think that we’ll still be talking about this series for a very long time. While its popularity will likely wax and wane, this is the sort of story that stands the test of time. 

Inspired by the new book launch, I recently reread the series. And I have some thoughts, both as a writer and as a person living through the prolog of a distopian novel. 

So I know we’ve talked about several of the books by themselves. But today, I want to pull out and look at the series as a whole. Maybe we can learn something about writing a series that will stand the test of time. Maybe we can also learn something about dealing with our political situation. 

There are so many questions remaining

At this point I’ve read the whole series twice, except for Sunrise. And I still have so many questions. If anything, I have more questions after the reread. What happened to Lucy Gray? Is the Tigress that shelter’s Katness Snow’s cousin? If so, why does she now hate him so much?!

A great story doesn’t do all the heavy lifting from us. It leaves things open to interpretation, and argument. It allows fans to feel like we’re a part of the story. It also builds a community. A fandom. 

Speaking of which. What do you think happened to Lucy Gray? Let me know in the comments. I personally think she ran off and found a covey in the forest. 

The characters are complicated

There are several characters in Hunger Games that are wonderful people.

Katness is not one of those people. Neither is Haymich. And I don’t even think I need to discuss what sort of person Snow is. 

But, maybe I do? Because he’s not always a monster. Sometimes he’s kind. Sometimes he’s compassionate. He’s brave even, in some ways. 

That’s probably the best thing about this series. The main characters are morally gray. They do some bad things. And some good. These are characters that I think we can all see ourselves in, for better or worse. I think it’s the worse part that’s the bigger hook, actually. 

For me, Katness has a lot of the flaws I see in myself. She’s selfish. She uses people. She refuses to consider that other people might care about her. And she clearly doesn’t ever trust another human soul.

These are parts of myself that I don’t like. And so, I don’t like Katness. But I’ll also never forget her.

It asks something of us

I don’t think it’s any surprise to anyone that we are living through some dark times. Honestly, I lack the energy and time to list all the things wrong with our society right now. 

In the Hunger Games series, Katness is raised in a very dark world. She hates this world, but she accepts it. Her aim is never to overthrow the Capital. It’s just to make sure her sister survives. And while Peeta is happy to fight, he probably never would have if he hadn’t been backed into a corner where it was his only option.

Haymich wants to fight in Sunrise on The Reaping. So does Lenore Dove. They fight. They do not go quietly. They battle with everything they have, as little as it is. 

They paint their posters.

Hunger Games asks us to consider our actions in the America of right now. Are we painting our posters? Are we making good trouble? Or are we just enjoying the bread and circus?

We should strive to be Haymich and Lenore Dove, so that later generations don’t have to be Katness and Peeta. Sing the protest songs. Vote. Send physical mail to representitives. Protect your neighbors and show up for your community. 

Speaking of showing up for your community. I know a lot of people are struggling right now. But if you can, please consider donating to The Trevor Project. Their federal funding ended on July 17th, and they do crucial work to support LGBTQ+ youth.

Another charity that means a lot to me is the Brigid Alliance. They help people travel to access abortion care. 

Please do what you can, when you can, while you can. Don’t let the sun rise on another facist regime. 

Oh, I guess that got a little political. It’s almost like art is crucial in dark times. Go write something rebellious today. 

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Why Never Flinch Works

I recently finished reading Stephen King’s latest novel, Never Flinch. And it was a fun book. I mean, most of King’s books are fun. But this one was especially so.

Never Flinch is about a serial killer, a religious bigot, a political activist and a soul singer. And about how all of these people come together in a gloriously bloody mess.

Now, I will say that I think the ending was a bit anticlimactic. I think the end game could have been a little cooler. I don’t want to ruin it for you, but you’ll know what I’m talking about if you’ve read it. However, it wasn’t bad enough that it ruined the journey for me.

Today, let’s talk about why Never Flinch worked. Let’s pick it apart and see exactly why it was a great, light Summer read.

The story gave away a lot, only to have more secrets to reveal

Never Flinch is, like most of the Holly books, not a horror novel. It’s a crime novel. Yes, there’s a touch of supernatural right at the end. But for the most part, this book was firmly planted in reality.

In most crime and mystery novels, the fun is largely derived from figuring out ‘who dunnit’. I think we’re all trying to recapture the childhood joy of reading Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys, feeling quite clever when we figure out who the bad guy is along with the teenage sleuths.

So when the book opens up with a chapter from the pov of the killer, you might think this takes away a bit of the fun. But it doesn’t. Mostly because we know him by the name Trig, but we’re told early on that this isn’t his legal name. So while we know him, we don’t know his public persona. He might walk past our main characters, even have full-on conversations with them, and we’d never know.

This does happen several times, by the way.

Lots of real-world horrors baked in here

While I love a good haunting story, there’s something great about real-world horrors. Horror is, I think, smarter than critics give it credit for. Through horror, we often talk about the things that really scare us. Not the ghosts and eldritch monsters. But the real things that keep us up at night.

Never Flinch is great at this. This book talks about guilt. About the weight a false conviction can have, and how that can impact so many people. It also talks about the fear of standing up for what you believe in and the price you have to pay to do that.

We see Trig, eaten up by the death of a man who should never be in jail. We see Corrie, putting her life on the line to support Kate and spread the message of feminine power. (Hell yes, by the way. Get me a Kate McKay Woman Power shirt!) We see Kate willingly risk her life to keep spreading this good work. And we see, in a darker turn, siblings Chris and Chrissy sacrifice their lives to shut her up.

All of these are real things we are really scared of. My favorite example is Holly. Holly faces her fears in this book. She steps out of her comfort zone over and over. She is not the sort of person you’d expect to be a bodyguard. She is learning that she can do hard things. She steps out of her comfort zone, and she is still not smoking.

Holly’s my hero.

I like the way King writes women.

This brings me to my next point. I love the way King writes women in this book.

The short reason for this is that he writes them like real people. Our two main characters are women. The majority of characters are women. And never once does anyone ‘breast boobily down the stairs’.

King writes women like people. What an amazing thing. Not one of them is perfect. There are no scream queens. They do dumb, selfish things. But they also do amazing and brave things. They do dumb things, too. And great things. They are messy, ego-driven, protective, kind, cruel. They are, in short, actual people.

Well done.

One of the antagonists is sympathetic

While I certainly don’t agree with Trig or his motivations, I do feel sympathy for him. He saw something wrong, very wrong, happen. He felt guilty. And he wanted to do something to balance the scales. He wanted people to learn from this.

He was wrong and messed up. He reminded me of a meme currently going around Instagram. You’ve probably seen it. A video starts ‘Probably needed therapy, did (insert thing) instead’. The thing might be making jewelry, or adopting cats, or starting a farm. In Trig’s case, he probably needed therapy and started killing innocent people instead.

But he’s so broken. He’s so scared and sad and ill. It’s impossible not to feel a little bad for him.

We’ve had so much time to know Holly

Finally, I want to talk about Holly. Because I love her. And we’ve had so much time to get to know her.

She was introduced in the Mr. Mercedes series, scared of everything, and a hot mess. We saw her blossom in The Outsider. Then, in If It Bleeds. Finally, she got her starring role in Holly. And now she’s back.

I hope King keeps writing about Holly. It’s so nice to see a main character be a middle-aged woman with severe anxiety issues.

Gee, wonder why I like that.

In short, Never Flinch isn’t going to be my favorite book of all time. It isn’t even my favorite King book. But it’s a fun book. It’s funny, dark, and inspiring. And we as writers can certainly learn a lot about writing through reading it.

Do you have a book or movie you want me to talk about? Did you read Never Flinch and have thoughts? Let us know in the comments.

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