Adrian Collins's Blog, page 89

REVIEW: The Jasad Heir by Sara Hashem

The Jasad Heir is a story about fate and corruption just as much as it is one about dark magic and romance. Sara Hashem’s debut Fantasy digs its roots deep into a very real historical inspiration: the Arab Spring. A focus on Egypt’s modern history of dynasties and rebellions over the godlike pharaohs and jackal gods of the past, the Jasad Heir delivers a surprising story of thrilling politics with the type of smirking fun prescribed for horizontal reading. Ivory palaces and slimy monsters meet characters torn between memory and myth, scars and romance. The Jasad Heir is about people living in the aftermath of tragedy.

Sylvia, a chemist’s apprentice, makes sure that no whispers of her past exist. When Jasad burned, its heir turned to ash with it, transforming her into someone else entirely. A new name, new story, new identity. Only the painful memories stayed. After a rather bloody mess with a soldier in the woods and the championship festivities commence, she’s sucked into the cunning gaze of the Nizahl Heir and his meticulously planned out plot. She agrees to be her enemy’s champion, or else risk her very survival, Sylvia agrees to help Arin take down Jasadi rebels.

Danger always seems a possible horror for Sylvia. But she’s no fool willing to put the right thing over surviving yet another threat. If there’s something she loves more than anything, it’s her people. Arin, who always wears gloves and does not take them off unless it’s for a kill, enrages her. They would maim each other if they didn’t find they could get something out of the other. Both are immensely scarred, selfish, and cunning. I appreciate seeing characters that are made from their circumstances without any apology for it. They’d each kill a giant spider with nothing but a dagger than face their own emotions truthfully.

The enemy she’s supposed to hate, but hard as she tries, Arin’s layers are fascinating— how much he loves his people, the way his cunning mind turns and concocts one plan after the next, practicality in the face of death, and his unnatural fixation with maps. It’s a fun fantasy adventure that I’m glad to have read. I want to see what happens in this world. But I especially want to see Arin and Sylvia happy.  I am sure Hashem has much more heart wringing in the follow up to the Jasad Heir.

The Jasad Heir is an entertaining ride, specifically made for those that love to investigate the scars and the shapes they form on real people stuck in a world of smoke and mirrors. High rise feelings, family sagas that are anything but pretty, a realm of enemies in a pit of lies, and unmistakable enjoyment for a grateful fantasy reader. The Jasad Heir makes a compelling case to receive your nightmares and hit them where it bleeds.

Read The Jasad Heir by Sara Hashem

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Christopher Buehlman announces The Daughters’ War

Our team described Christopher Buehlman’s The Blacktongue Thief as ‘the next big thing’—and with the almost universal acclaim for the book among the fantasy community, I think it’s fair to say we were right.

Now, fans can rejoice, for Buehlman has announced a new book in his beloved world, set to come out next summer.

It’s official! THE DAUGHTERS’ WAR comes out next summer. pic.twitter.com/PHWAk1EyLv

— Christopher Buehlman (@Buehlmeister) July 17, 2023

The book will be called The Daughters’ War and will be a prequel. According to the announcement on Publisher’s Marketplace, The Daughters’ War will be set during the ‘brutal’ goblin war that took place in the years before the main story in The Blacktongue Thief.

We will see the daughter of a duke join a war against goblins, while battling alongside giant war-birds—which were a hugely popular part of the original. The daughter in question will be Galva, one of the main characters of the first book, who our protagonist Kinch followed on her quest to save a missing Queen.

Other details on the book are scant but grimdark fans loved the chaos of The Blacktongue Thief, a unique book that blended fantastic action sequences with mind-bending magic and genuine hilarity.

Fans will hope The Daughters’ War will be more of the same—and peel back more of the world-building and mystery that enthralled us all so much the first time.

The news was, unsurprisingly, very well-received by fans.

One said: “Cannot wait for this. I appreciate your work so much. Thank you.”

Cannot wait for this. I appreciate your work so much. Thank you

— DH (@DavidH70585871) July 17, 2023

Another commented: ‘I have two friends and my son reading Blacktongue Thief right now because of my perpetual nagging! I cannot WAIT for this book!”

While a third said: “I read The Blacktounge Thief on my vacation this summer and loved it to bits. Really looking forward to next summer now!”

However, some did wonder at the summer 2024 publication date.

Buehlman was quick to respond, writing on Twitter: “I understand. It took me a while to find the central conflict and the voice. I hope you’ll find it was worth the wait.”

I understand. It took me a while to find the central conflict and the voice. I hope you’ll find it was worth the wait.

— Christopher Buehlman (@Buehlmeister) July 17, 2023

He also confirmed the story would be in first person from Galva’s perspective.

We can’t wait!

You can read our review of The Blacktongue Thief here.

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An Interview with Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Silvia Moreno-Garcia, author of books including Mexican Gothic, The Daughter of Doctor Moreau and Untamed Shore, is one of the most interesting and versatile authors working today. No two books of hers are alike, hopping genre and styles while consistently writing stories of highest quality. Her books are often set in or heavily influenced by her native Mexico, which is the case with her latest book, occult thriller Silver Nitrate, releasing in July. We’ve been able to catch up with Silvia Moreno-Garcia about Silver Nitrate, writing, creativity and classic horror films.

 

[GdM:] Can you start us off by introducing Silver Nitrate in a one sentence pitch?

 

[SMG:] It’s a novel of supernatural suspense set in 1993 about two friends who stumble onto a mysterious film that might be cursed.

 

[GdM:] Every one of your books is utterly different from the last. What is the draw to you as an author to keep reinventing yourself?

 

[SMG:] I get bored. I have a short attention span. I also like to experiment and try different writing modes. I hate staying still.

 

[GdM:] I have noticed that a theme in all of your books is that they feature female main characters who are overlooked and angry in some way. Is there a particular reason why you’re attracted to writing this sort of protagonist?

 

[SMG:] I wouldn’t say this applies to all my main characters. I’ve written nine novels and two novellas and there are a range of experiences reflected in the pages of my books. For Montserrat, I wanted to reflect some of the feelings of my mother, who worked in radio back in the day and had to develop a tough shell to survive the sexist landscape of the times.

 

[GdM:] As an immigrant constantly switching back and forth between two languages myself, I have been wondering about your writing process. All of your books are incredibly rooted in Mexico, in a Spanish-speaking culture – which you’re writing and publishing about in English. How do you process language during your writing?

 

[SMG:] I don’t want to write books that are filled with italics, where every other sentence a character yells “Dios mio!” I want it to be a seamless experience where the Mexico you enter is not an exotic Other locale but an everyday place with its special quirks and history.

 

[GdM:] Do your stories ever surprise you during the writing and editing process?

 

[SMG:] Novels need a more robust skeleton before I begin writing them, so often the big surprises come in short stories. There are obviously details that change as you move along, which is part of the organic process of writing. There is an element of flexibility and rigidity that needs to be present.  You don’t want to choke the element of discovery, but if you have no idea where you are headed it can be harder to find your footing.

 

[GdM:] Thinking about Silver Nitrate in particular, what was a detail that really stood out to you during your research and what do you wish you could have included but weren’t able to?

 

[SMG:] It has a lot of info packed about occultism and film, but I could have included more of either element. One thing I didn’t include was the existence of the Landig Group. This was an occultist group formed in 1950 that gathered in Vienna. Its founder was a former SS member who revived the mythology of Thule and who spouted bizarre racist ideas (Nazis under the ice!). I wanted to include some of this, but I thought perhaps the parallels with my fictional occultist were a bit too blunt and obvious. It was this type of person who served as the prototype for my villain.

 

[GdM:] Let’s talk classic horror films. Which one has the best Silver Nitrate vibes, and who would you cast as Montserrat – if the film was made in 1993?

 

[SMG:] I wouldn’t be able to cast anyone. Montserrat is described as a dark-skinned Mexican woman and the colorism present at the time would have prevented actresses from embodying the role. When an illustrator asked me what she should look like, I said Yalitza Aparicio. But realistically women like Yalitza hardly get leading roles even nowadays.

 

As for classic horror films, I like slow, quiet horror films, but some of the elements of Silver Nitrate are a homage to the violent imagery of Dario Argento and the Hammer Films of the 1960s.

 

[GdM:] Can you tell us anything about what genre you’ll be tackling next?

 

[SMG:] It’s a historical novel titled The Seventh Veil of Salome about the making of a sword-and-sandals 1950s film.

 

[GdM:] What books or other media have been filling your creative well recently?

 

[SMG:] I took an online course on opera and I’ve become more interested in this type of theater. It plays a role in my next novel.

Read Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

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REVIEW: Gods of the Wyrdwood by RJ Barker

Gods of the Wyrdwood is the latest fantasy novel from RJ Barker. The first in a new trilogy will hold immense appeal to fans who want more after finishing his completed The Tide Child and The Wounded Kingdom trilogies. If you have yet to pick any of Barker’s work, Gods of the Wyrdwood may be the perfect place to start, as with its unique and engaging world, the novel is well worth the reading commitment. It is aptly titled, as Gods of the Wyrdwood does have some wonderfully weird moments but I think that this adds to the enjoyment it can sometimes be a rare thing when reading fantasy to come across something and think, ‘well, that’s totally new.’

I would not describe Gods of the Wyrdwood as an easy read at the start of the novel. Barker is too sparse with the world-building details to ease the reader in. Instead, they are popped into a fully formed and richly detailed world. I’m not too fond of large information dumps in novels, and much prefer to pick it up as I go along, and this is very much what the reader has to do here. However, Barker’s world is so detailed that this picking-up process slows down the pace of the novel’s opening. There is a whole new world of flora and fauna, a pantheon of gods, a leadership system, a magical organisation, and a marriage structure to understand. I eventually got my head around it, but I would have appreciated something like a glossary of terms to be able to speed up this assimilation process.

This initial effort of the reader does then pay dividends as Gods of the Wyrdwood continues. Barker’s world is stunning and fantastical, with new beasties and botanical wonders. The characters in Gods of the Wyrdwood are also well-formed. The protagonist, Cahan is the reverse of the ‘chosen one’ trope – where events from his childhood prove false and have left adult Cahan leading a life of isolation. He is shunned by society and only tolerated for his ability to navigate the treacherous Wyrdwood. Cahan is a character that grew on me as the novel progressed, but one I liked instantly was the monk Udinny. Like Cahan, Udinny is barely tolerated by the people of Harn. But unlike Cahan, she is instantly likeable and is one of the lightest and most joyful characters in a novel that can get quite dark. Barker has also done something few writers do in Gods of the Wyrdwood, where he has created a character I detest. I found Kirven, the High Leoric of Harnspire, utterly irredeemable. This may not be the case for everyone, as Barker does give Kirven depth as a character, and she is not a soulless psychopath, but to me, the abuse of her child was unforgiveable.

It is hard to describe the plot of Gods of the Wyrwood as it meanders around a fair bit. The novel has peaks of excitement and minor skirmishes, but the main conflict becomes apparent at the end of the story. This might not be enjoyable for everyone, but I liked it. Barker is using our time effectively. Everything builds up and proves important, and after the initial persistence through the learning curve of this world, I have engaged the whole way through. Gods of the Wyrdwood is almost Tolkien-esque in that respect, where the journey through the world is as important as the final epic clash. However, Barker’s woods are a smidgen more violent than Tolkien’s.

Gods of the Wyrdwood is a lengthy and entertaining read. Barker has created a beautiful world that balances the dark and deadly with just the right amount of hope. It was a read that I really enjoyed overall, and I will definitely be picking up the next instalment in The Forsaken Trilogy. Thank you very much to RJ Barker and the team over at Orbit for sending a copy of Gods of the Wyrdwood for me to review it.

4/5.

Read Gods of the Wyrdwood by RJ Barker

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REVIEW: The Last of the Atalanteans by P.L. Stuart

A drowned kingdom may rise again in The Last of the Atalanteans, the second volume of P.L. Stuart’s Drowned Kingdom Saga, a dark epic fantasy inspired by the mythology of Atlantis.

The Last of the Atalanteans picks up immediately after the end of P.L. Stuart’s excellent debut novel, A Drowned Kingdom, as Prince Othrun of Atalanyx seeks to rebuild his kingdom in a foreign land following the dramatic submersion of his former island home.

Othrun considers the restoration of his kingdom to be a divine mission, viewing himself as the savior chosen by his one true God. By establishing a new kingdom in pagan lands—through political manipulations and force, if necessary—Othrun might also convert people he considers as heathens to his own monotheistic faith.

As in the first book of the series, The Last of the Atalanteans is a single point-of-view narrative told from Othrun’s first-person perspective. Single point-of-view epic fantasies are a rare breed these days, presumably due to the influence of George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones. When done properly, the focus provided by having a single narrator can bring an unparalleled depth to the psychological analysis of that character.

P.L. Stuart achieves this goal exquisitely in The Last of the Atalanteans. His depiction of Othrun reaches a Dostoevskian depth that also recalls Mark Lawrence’s outstanding characterization of Jorg Ancrath in his Broken Empire trilogy. Both Stuart and Lawrence present complex worlds from characters having tunnel vision; but while Jorg is angry and impulsive, Othrun is calm and methodical in his very ambitious pursuits.

The first half of The Last of the Atalanteans had some minor pacing issues as Othrun and two other lords go on an undercover political mission, but P.L. Stuart absolutely nails the second half of the novel, leading up to one of the strongest finales that I’ve read since Lawrence’s King of Thorns.

Grimdark readers will also love P.L. Stuart’s masterful depiction of gray morality in this series. Othrun has constructed a system of internal logic that, at times, makes him seem like a beacon of rationality in a world gone mad. But readers will recoil in horror as Othrun applies this same system of logic to justify racism, sexism, colonialism, and religious zealotry.

P.L. Stuart demonstrates how irrational and often dangerous conclusions can be drawn from a self-consistent but twisted set of moral codes. In this way, Othrun captures the seductive arguments employed by leaders throughout history, who have used similar tactics to justify evils ranging from oppression and colonialism to slavery and genocide. Shades of Othrun are also evident in many of today’s world leaders, who use a similar morality distortion field to justify their nationalistic pursuits.

Beyond the lead protagonist himself, P.L. Stuart excels at describing Othrun’s complex relationships with other characters. The bond between Othrun and his elderly uncle is a highlight of the book, especially as Othrun learns of the horrific deeds committed by this man whom he so idolizes. These deeds are really just magnified versions of Othrun’s own sins. Holding this mirror up to Othrun’s own morality could be an opportunity for introspection, or it could merely clear the pathway toward greater evil.

Other highlights are the evolving relationships between Othrun and two of the lead female characters. Othrun appears genuine in his feelings for his wife, Aliaz, infatuated by her physical beauty and appreciative of her marital fidelity. But as a woman, Othrun considers Aliaz to be an inherently inferior being: a subject rather than an equal.

However, Othrun’s interactions with Lysi—a feared warrior, powerful mage, and ascending queen of a pagan land—lead him to question these gender stereotypes. With Lysi, Othrun finds someone strong enough to be considered his equal, which he perceives in terms of masculine traits in her character. Othrun is strangely drawn to Lysi while knowing full well the danger that she poses to both his political aspirations and his marriage.

Stuart provides plenty of opportunities for Othrun to grow as a character. Part of the appeal of this second book of the series is seeing whether Othrun will actually take these opportunities to grow in a positive way, or if he will delve deeper into his bigoted thinking and actions.

P.L. Stuart’s writing is immaculate in The Last of the Atalanteans, drawing me in from the very first page. As in A Drowned Kingdom, Stuart’s prose strikes the perfect balance between gravity and accessibility.

Overall, The Last of the Atalanteans is an outstanding follow-up to A Drowned Kingdom and left me eager to dive into Lord and King, the third volume of P.L. Stuart’s planned seven-book Drowned Kingdom Saga.

4.5/5

Read The Last of the Atalanteans by P.L. Stuart

 

 

 

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REVIEW: The Strange by Nathan Ballingrud

The Strange by Nathan Ballingrud is science fiction, but science fiction of the retro kind, a wistful homage to the outlandish bygone tales of a Mars with a breathable atmosphere, stiff and clanking robots, and saucer-shaped spaceships that traverse the planets with all the ease of pulp era sci-fi. The sort of novel that should rightly have a punk suffix tacked on somewhere in its genre label, only there’s nothing that easily applies. Bradbury-punk, perhaps?

Now, let’s get full disclosures done at the outset: I’m a big Nathan Ballingrud fan, having been introduced to his work through Ellen Datlow’s various horror anthologies. From there I progressed to his outstanding horror novella The Visible Filth, and now I’ve finally gotten to read his first novel, The Strange. The blurbs made it clear this was going to be a change from his usual horror and fantasy fare, so I went into this with no expectations other than knowing Ballingrud can turn a good story.

The Strange is narrated by Annabelle Crisp, who tells her story from the vantage of an old woman looking back on her youthful escapades. This lends the story a poignancy and nostalgia that permeates the whole narrative. It’s a reminiscing, and it infuses the tale with an elegiac tone. Underpinning the whole fabric of the story is the idea of loss, whether it’s one’s parents, one’s childhood, or the entirety of civilisation itself.

The Strange is set in an alternate history where people were landing on Mars during the American Civil War, flying saucers are the preferred mode of interplanetary transport, and you can do things like fire an H.G. Wells-style commuter cannon safely at the moon.

The protagonist of this story is young Annabelle Crisp, plucky, rebellious and armed with a cutting wit. She and her father run a diner in New Galveston, one of two human settlements on the Red Planet. For some years, Mars has been cut off from Earth following The Silence, the abrupt ceasing of all radio communications with the home planet, and Annabelle’s mother took the last shuttle back before the Silence unexpectedly manifested. All Annabelle has to remember her mother by is a recording stored in the diner’s backroom.

The one working spaceship sits just outside town, a flying saucer called the Eurydice, that the pilot, a somewhat directionless and melancholy fellow named Joe Reilly, refuses to fly back to Earth on account of it being a one-way trip and the saucer not being big enough for everyone. Joe’s burdened by this responsibility, and lives the life of an outcast on the edge of town alongside his precious saucer.

The only other mapped settlement on Mars is the haunted Dig Town, where the Martian substance known as The Strange is mined. The Strange has begun to have unsettling effects on the miners, lending their eyes a unearthly cast and perhaps also tampering with their minds. The people of New Galveston tolerate the Dig Town miners, who bring coin and custom, but it’s an uneasy relationship, with tension on both sides.

Following the Silence, though, those societal cracks have gradually deepened within New Galveston. The lifelines to Earth severed, and shortages of goods beginning to become apparent, townsfolk have begun to suspect Annabelle’s father of hoarding precious supplies and sundries in the diner’s storeroom. And these shortages and suspicions are not confined to New Galveston.

The whole human investiture in Mars is struggling. Dig Town, too, is beginning to rot from the inside, a process perhaps accelerated by the influence of that alien mineral called the Strange.

When the diner is robbed by desperate cultists from the Peabody Crater, out past Dig Town, a chain of events is set off that culminates in Annabelle going forth with her robot dishwasher, Watson, and Joe Reilly, to recover her mother’s stolen recording. The journey will take her first to Dig Town, infested with the side-effects of the Strange, and then further, out into the haunted deserts, and all the way to Peabody Crater, where it’s rumoured that the first man on Mars, Chauncey Peabody, landed in 1864 after fleeing conscription in the Confederate States of America during the Civil War.

You can’t help but like Annabelle. At times she’s selfish and downright mean, but there’s the sense that these are childhood faults, the sorts of faults to be learned from and that we were all guilty of at one time or another. For example, she might deliver some outrageous threat towards Joe with all the vehemence of childish rage, but at the same time, she’s a girl who’s lost her mother, and so such outbursts can be forgiven.

She’s not a simple character, and is both likeable and unlikeable, depending on her mood and the situation. Likewise, Joe has his good points and bad points, and downtrodden though he is, there’s also the feeling that it’s not an entirely unearned lot that has come his way. Ballingrud’s a class writer. His characters have edges, the same as real people.

While it’s Annabelle’s story, it’s also the story of the end of a civilisation. Here we have a proud colonisation effort, the crowning glory of humankind, that has ultimately been reduced to people squabbling over food and necessities. It’s about the end of childhood, the end of civilisation, and small wonder that it is a story filled with ghosts.

Ghosts are evident in the voice recording of Annabelle’s mother, the ghosts the Strange creates out in the Martian wilderness, and the less literal ghosts of human civilisation, as exemplified in the grounded saucer of the Eurydice. In mythology, Eurydice is the wife of Orpheus, whom Orpheus tries unsuccessfully to retrieve from the Underworld. Ghosts and loss, and more ghosts again.

Having made much of this being a story about loss, I should also state it’s not bleak or nihilistic. We always remember that this is a story told by an Annabelle who has grown old – extravagantly old, as he puts it – and so we’re always aware that there is hope to be found. It’s about loss, but also about growing and transforming, because what is the loss of childhood except the opportunity to grow into something more.

I’ve never read a bad story by Nathan Ballingrud, and the Strange is an impressive debut novel. It’s a fast, pleasurable read, with a small cast of characters and a richly imagined alternative-universe future. Definitely recommended.

Read The Strange by Nathan Ballingrud

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REVIEW: After the Forest by Kell Woods

Have you ever wondered what happens after the witch is defeated? After the fairy tale runs its course and the characters have a whole life to live? After the Forest by Kell Woods asks exactly that question – who would Hansel and Gretel be as adults and how do they fit into society after their experiences as children. The short answer is, not very well. Fifteen years after they return from the forest, Hans is a gambling menace, in deep with all the wrong people, and Greta is a wilful, independent young woman believed to be a witch by many of the villagers in their small German town.

Kell Woods’ debut takes familiar stories and tropes from the vast corpus of the Brothers Grimm and smartly weaves them into an excellent historical fantasy novel. After the Forest is poetic, evocative, and most of all, addictive. I had the visceral urge to pick this book back up first thing in the morning because I simply needed to know how the story continued. And that, to me, shows the magic of storytelling imbued in it.

The plot isn’t always surprising to the reader – as many will be familiar with the fairy tales that inspired this, even if it isn’t a traditional retelling of a single story, readers will recognise elements and patterns. It’s less about being obvious, but writing within a tradition. There is a narrative flow to a fairytale, and even a modern, adult iteration of one will have these elements of genre to it – and that, to me, is one of the things that make After the Forest into the gem it is. It is not only a response to the traditional stories, but through structure, through style as well as more obvious elements, is in conversation with them.

And oh, what a conversation it is. Far from the cookie-cutter characters you may expect to see, Kell Woods’ version gives them all depth and complexity. Characters perceived as good act in ways that are clearly morally reprehensible and are called out for it. People are able to learn from their mistakes, characters are able to both forgive beyond comprehension and hold unreasonable grudges. You may wonder why a book based on fairy tales holds appeal to Grimdark readers – this right there is it. The moral complexity of the characters, the themes of powerlessness permeating the book in different layers. And the villainess. There’s some real gold here.

After the Forest is high up on my list of best books of 2023. An author to watch and a powerhouse debut.

Read After the Forest by Kell Woods

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REVIEW: Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Once more, Silvia Moreno-Garcia reinvents herself. Silver Nitrate is an ode to classic horror films, to the darker side of cinema – and to the darker parts of twentieth century history.  As is par for the course with Moreno-Garcia’s books, Silver Nitrate too is set in Mexico. Or more precisely, in Mexico City’s film industry in the 1990s. Centred around Montserrat, a dark-skinned sound editor in her late thirties, and her friend, Tristán, a soap opera star whose time in the limelight had long since faded, this story weaves occultist tales, fugitive Nazis and the making of horror films into an unforgettable story.

When Abel Urueta, cult horror director – and Tristán’s new neighbour – recruits Montserrat and Tristán to help him complete a mysterious film, they don’t know what they’re in for. Abel Urueta is sure the unfinished project has cursed his career. He is now desperate to complete it, consequences be damned, for the slightest hope at lifting the curse he believes on himself. And so, despite tales of the volatile silver nitrate stock it has been filmed and stored on having been steeped with dark magic by a Nazi occultist, they begin work on the missing scenes…

With Silver Nitrate, Silvia Moreno-Garcia once again writes herself to the summit of a new genre. After having brought readers to the island of Doctor Moreau in her retelling of the classic and writing a brilliant noir in Untamed Shore for her last two releases, this is a straight up occult horror thriller.  Written with a great instinct for tension and pacing, Silver Nitrate draws the reader in and truly immerses them into its version of 1990s Mexico. But these books don’t just switch genre. The voice and style of writing adapts with them. And that is what makes Moreno-Garcia such an impressive author – her versatility, her ability to switch voices like a chameleon switches colour.

Silver Nitrate particularly stands out from her body of work for a Grimdark audience due to its themes and characters. Unsettling and haunting, with a villain evil both on an uncanny and a very real level – a Nazi fugitive who ended up in Mexico – and characters who are stuck in their own mindsets, making them less than morally upstanding as a rule. The characters are complex, and grow even more so over the course of the book. Montserrat stood out especially, as a woman making her way in a man’s world, while also being a more mature character – she is in her late thirties, rather than her twenties as many heroines are – and not conforming to the beauty standards dominant around her. She is pure perseverance and good at her job, determined to make herself heard, which makes her a great character to root for throughout the events of the book.

As a whole, Silver Nitrate came together as a haunting story with evocative atmosphere and Moreno-Garcia’s usual attention to detail and strong characters. The inclusion of silver nitrate itself as a core element of the story was a great way to tie together the different elements of the plot. Highly recommended.

Read Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

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Review: Vampires of El Norte by Isabel Cañas

Vampires of El Norte is the second horror novel by Isabel Cañas following her highly regarded debut, The Hacienda. As with her first novel, Vampires of El Norte combines elements of horror, romance, and historical fiction to create a chilling tale in an historical Mexican setting.

Vampires of El Norte alternates perspectives between Nena and Néstor, an adolescent couple in northeastern Mexico in 1837. Tensions are rising between the local Mexican ranchers and Anglo settlers who are crossing the border from Texas.

Meanwhile, Nena is fascinated by her grandmother’s folktales, which are haunted by menacing nocturnal creatures that suck the blood of their victims and leave them to die.

A nighttime tryst gone terribly awry causes Nena and Néstor to separate for nine long years. Néstor drowns his sorrows in a life of debauchery, while Nena trains as a healer in the art of folk remedies.

Nena and Néstor unexpectedly reunite as the Anglos bring full-scale war to Mexico. But can Nena forgive Néstor for abandoning her and succumbing to a life of vice? A possibly rekindled romance is set against the shadows of the Mexican-American War and the constant fear of an unspeakable horror.

Isabel Cañas manages a careful balance between the romantic and horror aspects of the novel. In my view, the first and last portions of the book strike just the right balance. However, the middle part of the novel takes a lighter romantic tone that left me craving something darker.

Oral traditions play an important role throughout Vampires of El Norte, lending a folk horror aspect to the novel. I especially enjoyed the author’s unique representation of vampires, which is genuinely terrifying at first and later adopts a more melancholic feel. Isabel Cañas delivers one of the most creative and compelling depictions of vampires that I have read in a long time.

Another highlight of Vampires of El Norte is its mid-nineteenth century setting during the Mexican-American war, which Isabel Cañas leverages to draw parallels between fictional creatures of horror and the real-life terrors of nationalistic aggression and war. Vampires of El Norte is an excellent example of how fantastic elements can help enhance our understanding of historical tragedies and their impact on both the individuals involved and society as a whole.

Vampires of El Norte is compulsively readable, blending the usually disparate genres of horror, romance, and historical fiction all in one compelling Weird Western story. I look forward to reading more from Isabel Cañas in the future.

4/5

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Review: The Militia House by John Milas

The Militia House is the debut horror novel from John Milas, a U.S. Marine Corps veteran who was deployed to Afghanistan in 2010. Milas brings his personal experience to The Militia House, which gives the first-person account of newly promoted Corporal Loyette, whose unit is assigned to a base in Kajaki, Afghanistan, in the same year as the author’s own deployment.

Loyette and his crew are replacing British soldiers who tell the Americans eerie stories of a nearby abandoned barracks. This so-called Militia House was the site of a massacre of Soviet soldiers at the end of the Soviet Union’s occupation of Afghanistan in 1989.

The daily life of the soldiers is quite monotonous, and curiosity gets the best of Loyette and his unit as they explore the Militia House. They soon find strange unaccountable writings and become plagued by nightmares.

John Milas’s writing is well-honed, particularly for a debut novel. The author’s real-life experiences as a marine in Afghanistan enable him to give a realistic depiction of a soldier’s life on duty. Loyette’s narration flows smoothly, aside from the occasional use of military jargon and an odd obsession with Nicki Minaj that seems an awkward fit for the rest of the novel.

The first half of The Militia House is rather slow paced, reflecting the dullness of a typical soldier’s life during deployment. But the unsettling nature of The Militia House gradually builds throughout the novel, leading up to a perfectly executed climax that kept me flipping the pages till the very end.

Milas is especially adept at describing the emotional tolls of deployment in a war zone, even for soldiers who have not seen direct combat. The onset of post-traumatic stress disorder can be subtle, often manifesting in unconscious ways. Milas also explores the impact on military families, both during their loved ones’ deployment in dangerous locales so far from home and in the aftermath of their service.

Corporal Loyette has been deeply affected by the loss of his older brother, who died during his own military service and is viewed by everyone as a hero. Many of Loyette’s decisions are driven by him questioning his own self-worth considering his brother’s sacrifice.

One peculiarity of The Militia House is that the Afghan people play essentially no role in the story. It would have been interesting to consider how the interactions between the occupying soldiers and local people could have influenced the plot.

Overall, The Militia House is a highly accomplished debut horror rooted in reality. The horror elements gradually creep up on the reader, reflecting both the terror of experiencing an active war zone and the psychological tolls experienced by soldiers in the aftermath of their deployment.

4/5

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