‘I think the word ‘you’ has been linked with the more devastating sentences than any other in the English language’
I recently became infatuated with the writings of Amelia Gray while reading her innovative first book, AM/PM. That slim, impressive volume contained the roots of a fresh new voice, ready to break through the pages and blossom. I watched her tend to her growing charm with the short story collection, Museum of the Weird, which glowed in near equal value. There I found an ethereal elegance in her formation of tone and emotion in the longer stories and felt that she could really dazzle once she stretched out her legs in a full-length novel. Here is that first novel, and the prose is certainly blooming. Threats is a haunting tale that flourishes in a vile world of rot and decay drenched in a mournful tone that drips from each page.

The first half of the novel is nearly suffocating as Gray immerses the reader into an obfuscating haze of swirling surrealism as they piece together the fragmented mind of the tortured protagonist. They must float through ambiguous passages, flowing along in a broken order, as David tries to reconstruct his life and sanity, which were shattered and scattered by the abrupt death of his wife. All the while he is plagued by grief and paranoia, which grow increasingly imminent as the story progresses. Staying true to her short, abrupt style, the chapters in this novel as are very brief and it is the cohesive effect of these seemingly random episodes and memories that build to create an impressive structure fitting to a psychotic break. Each short chapter is brimming with imagery of rotting food, a disgusting build-up of trash, decaying flesh and a decaying life. Gray has a masterful art of delivering a potent tone, and it is the oppressive and gloomy tone of this novel that really drives it home. It is no wonder that one of her many motifs is the feeling of being swaddled, as she swaddles the reader in her menacing words. At times she even mixes the grime and rot with sentimentality, elevating the creepy feel even more as it manages to seep into the soft spots of your heart:
‘David sat next to his wife for three days. They leaned against each other and created a powerful odor. In that way, it was like growing old together.’
Beauty can even be found in the stench of a corpse in Amelia Gray’s world.

This novel threatens your senses, from churning your stomach to sending shivers down your spine. The threats, while not being the most threatening or aggressive notes ever, serve the anxiety-ridden tone perfectly.

’I WILL GATHER YOUR OLDEST FRIENDS AT MY HOME AND WE WILL HAVE A CONVERSATION. YOU WILL HEAR US TALKING BUT WHEN YOU COME INTO THE ROOM WE WILL STOP TALKING’

There is a constant feeling of something being off, but not being able to quite place what it is. There is something going on that only you are not privy too. There is something crouched in your peripherals that vanishes when you try to face it head on. The novel also invokes a feeling of helplessness, as the world is shown to be threatening and slowly slipping into decay, yet any attempts to stop it are futile. David and Franny both are employed in a fight against decay, David against tooth decay, and Franny against the decay of the flesh. Shelly just wants to keep clothing clean and not let them succumb to filth. David has nothing but the best intentions and only wishes to alleviate the fears of decay from his patients, to make time still, yet he cannot and loosing the battle with rot has severe consequences. We must watch loved ones fade, and, as he points out, even the mind must rot. We are made to crumble and to hurt and to be ‘a lifetime of plans, dissolved.’

For me, the second half of the novel didn’t quite stand up to the first half. This may be attributed more to my hopes for what was to come and that the novel took up a different path than the second half actually being a letdown. However, the ominous tone that I so loved, and the cloud of confusion begins to disapate and are replaced by bizarre occurrences instead of bizarre emotional effects. As David seems to level out, the rest of the characters began to appear weak and the agglomerating motifs start to fray. There are some great ideas, the application of a doppelganger, the massive amounts of pica and building a nest of paper much like the wasps that inhabit his garage (who were once carnivores just like us), but many just don’t seem to come full circle and their purpose is rather vague. It made me often wonder if some of it was just weirdness simply for the sake of weirdness. Initially, I was a bit troubled by this. After giving it some thought, this may be the point. A boy cannot find his sought after Sugar Cereal and is told ‘It doesn’t really matter where the Sugar Cereal is does it….if you think about it, it doesn’t really matter’ (if you haven’t noticed, food plays a major role in this novel). The ideas are there, and maybe it doesn’t matter because it added to the mystery and the surreal feel. The idea was to be vague. ‘Everything gains significance if you put it on an alter’. This novel is an enigmatic game where you must seek and apply significance as you will, much like life, something to pass the time before we all decay. My only other qualm was that she tied up a few things too tightly, such as revealing connections between characters. The links would be hinted at, allowing the reader to infer the connection, but then later they would be stated point-blank and it felt rather unnecessary. The novel does come together rather well in the end though,

Amelia Gray is a new voice that should not be missed. She has shown she can deliver a strong confident prose, convey powerful and often ghastly emotions, and preform with grace through a variety of innovative story forms. Threats is a story of loss and love and the ominous touch of decay that will keep you turning pages for more as the paranoia grows. My thanks to Josh for introducing me to the works of Amelia Gray, and for our excellent discussions of this novel. You should read his exceptional review
3.75/5

Each mind dies solitary
Remember the time we remembered
Remember the steaming crack in the earth
Remember lust, and if you do
Remember me