Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology edited by Aquino Loayza

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Third Estate Books

Genre: Body Horror, Folk Horror, Myth and Folklore, Psychological Horror, Sci-Fi Horror, Slahser/Killer

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Autistic characters and authors, trans, two-spirit, agender and non-binary characters and authors, gay characters, asexual author and characters, Mexican American author and character, Latinx authors, biracial Filipino and Taiwanese author, Afro-Indigenous author

Content Warnings: Ableism, Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Eating Disorder, Gaslighting, Gore, Illness, Medical Torture/Abuse, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse,  Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Suicide, Torture, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence (Highlight to view)

Blurb:

Deep in the recesses of our minds are twisted realities that so closely mirror our own. In these pages, our nightmares are laid bare, made to manifest. There is no waking up; there is no going back once you fall into the tapestry of terrors that await. Are you ready? From courteous neighbors gone awry to the burning brightness of everlasting daylight comes Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology reflective of the vast array of neurodivergent artists in our community and the things that keep them up in the night, the things they can’t look away from. Don’t Blink.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

Unfortunately, to review this, I do have to address some of the drama surrounding it. Anyone in the horror book sphere has probably heard it and it might turn some folks off this amazing anthology. However, you may not have heard about how Third Estate Books addressed it, and you shouldn’t pass on this book just because of a few bad apples.

One of the anthology’s original authors, Zach Rosenberg, was revealed to have a history of harassing and bullying women and femme identifying people. Writer and editor Evelyn Freeling details the harassment she received from Zach Rosenberg here. After Rosenberg posted a non-apology the next day Mattie Lewis shared her own negative experience with the author. Shortly afterward it was revealed that one of the editors of the anthology, Freydis Moon, had been impersonating a Latinx person to sell their books and bullying others online. You can find details of the Freydis Moon controversy here. Third Estate Books released statements that both Moon and Rosenberg had been removed from Spectrum and that they would have no place on any other projects moving forward. Therefore, I would still recommend this book, as the publisher has taken steps to ensure the safety of everyone involved and removed anyone problematic. Now, on to the review!

I was happy to see that many of the authors and characters in the book were trans, agender, or non-binary (not surprising since trans and gender diverse folks are up to six times more likely to be autistic). There was also some BIPOC representation with Asian, Latinx, and Afro-Indigenous authors, though I would have liked to have seen more. The stories were a very interesting mix. Some were straightforward and followed a classic story structure, while others felt more like stream of consciousness writing and focused more on  the poetic words used than forming a coherent plot (Survive Lot 666, Neighborly, and Discourses of the Seven Headed Monkey come to mind). But both styles worked well. A few of my favorites were Freedom was a Flaying by Onyx Osiris, Curse the Darkness by Die Booth, and The Sun Approaches Every Summer by Akis Linardos. The first of these stories was a violent revenge story where the bullies get violently massacred by the Aztec flayed god, Xipe Totec. I love revenge stories, and this one was particularly satisfying and twisted with a nice nod to the author’s heritage. Booth’s story was more of a “be careful what you wish for” tale, a genre of story I also greatly enjoy. The Sun Approaches Every Summer was particularly unique where a man with magical abilities slowly watches the town he lives in die because the sun is getting too close. As the townspeople fear witches, he’s forced to mask, hiding both his autism and his magical abilities. It reminded me of the Twilight episode The Midnight Sun, except in this story the protagonist is the only one immune to the heat due to his magic and is eventually the only one left alive.

The last story in the anthology, Different by Ashley Lezak, is one of only two in which autism is central to the story. In it, a little autistic girl named Abigail is “cured” by her parents who want a “normal” child.  One of ASAN’s (the Autistic Self Advocacy Network) core beliefs is that “autism cannot and should not be cured.” One thing many allistic and non-disabled people don’t seem to grasp is that Autism is part of who a person is and eliminating that would fundamentally change who they are. As Andrew Pulrang explained in an article for Forbes entitled What Do Disabled People Mean When We Say We Don’t Want A Cure? ,"Life without disabilities may at times have its attractions. It’s something that can be interesting, even fun to speculate about. But since it would often fundamentally change who we are, it’s not always a 100% attractive prospect." The desire to “cure” autism is similar to the appeal of gay conversion therapy. Parents who can’t love their children as they are try to change them to be more “normal,” someone they can accept. This is what makes Lezak’s short story so frightening: the idea that not only can parents not love and accept their child as they are, but that they would fundamentally change her as a person without her consent. And while the procedure Ashley undergoes is fictional, it’s not too far removed from the lobotomies performed on unwilling patients until the 1970s to change their personalities and even sexual orientation.

The other one is Safe Food by Xochilt Avila, in which a teen named Cedar struggles with their avoidant and restrictive food intake disorder (unfortunately many autistic people also have eating disorders) and an abusive father. What their father doesn’t understand is that it’s not that Cedar doesn’t want to eat, it’s that they have such severe sensory issues around taste there are only certain foods they can palate, none of which their father ever gives them. This story is another example of how badly parents can treat their autistic children (although in Cedar’s case their dad probably would have been abusive even if they were neurotypical). Unfortunately, it isn’t uncommon for autistic individuals to be abused, and their abuse is often blamed on their “challenging behaviors” rather than society’s ableism. Often the media will portray the abuser with sympathy as they were “burdened” with having an autistic child.

But those were the only two stories that felt like they made autism and autistic issues major plot points. The others chose to focus more on undead creatures, migraines, curses, abandoned buildings with dead whales, monkey gods, music, haunted houses and a head in a box. And honestly, I like that. While autism is part of someone’s identity, it’s only one part and Spectrum allows its authors to be their full selves rather than just focusing on their autism. I also really enjoyed seeing how differently autism manifested in each of the fictional characters, underlying how autism really is a broad spectrum. Some had severe sensory issues requiring soft clothing and ear protectors, others didn’t. Some struggled socially, others did not. Some characters had trouble with eye contact while others didn’t. Some were single, while others in committed relationships (there seems to be a myth that autistic people don’t date or have sex, which is patently untrue). There was no “one size fits all.” Autism is just one aspect of their personalities instead of all it, like is often the case when neurodiverse characters are written by neurotypicals. But their autism also wasn’t downplayed like it didn’t matter at all. They got to be multidimensional people.

Green Fuse Burning by Tiffany Morris

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Stelliform Press

Genre: Body Horror, Eco-Horror

Adult/Mature

Diversity: Mi'kmaw author and main character, queer main character, bisexual author

Content Warnings: Animal Death, Death, Gore, Medical Procedures, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse (Highlight to view)

Blurb:

The debut novella from the Elgin Award winning author of Elegies of Rotting Stars. After the death of her estranged father, artist Rita struggles with grief and regret. There was so much she wanted to ask him-about his childhood, their family, and the Mi'kmaq language and culture from which Rita feels disconnected. But when Rita's girlfriend Molly forges an artist's residency application on her behalf, winning Rita a week to paint at an isolated cabin, Rita is both furious and intrigued. The residency is located where her father grew up. On the first night at the cabin, Rita wakes to strange sounds. Was that a body being dragged through the woods? When she questions the locals about the cabin's history, they are suspicious and unhelpful. Ignoring her unease, Rita gives in to dark visions that emanate from the forest's lake and the surrounding swamp. She feels its pull, channeling that energy into art like she's never painted before. But the uncanny visions become more insistent, more intrusive, and Rita discovers that in the swamp's decay the end of one life is sometimes the beginning of another.

This is a book about grief, nature, and how death transforms. And when you’re finished, you’ll love wetlands and never look at fungi the same way again.

Despite being a landscape artist who relies on nature to make a living, Rita is very separated from it. She’s a germaphobe (due to her mother) who lives in the city with her white girlfriend Maddie. Rita also incorporates inspiration from her cultural heritage, despite being disconnected from that too. She’s barely in contact with the Mi’kmaw family. She only remembers bits of the Mi’kmaw her father taught her, and while she can recognize Gomgwejui'gasit (Suckerfish script), she can’t read it. This makes it difficult for her to talk to other family members when her father dies or receive the same level of community support as her half-brother, who lives on the reservation with the rest of their family. Rita feels alone in her grief because she’s so isolated from her family, with Maddie offering little support. Rita is not able to say goodbye to her father in his home, like she traditionally would, but in a hospital hooked up to machines, which traumatizes her. Rita’s grief over losing her father is so severe that she has PTSD. Morris describes her grief as a devouring green, a chlorophyll feeding and transforming Rita. She feels guilt (not uncommon for someone who’s grieving), afraid she’s not mourning “correctly” and that it’s selfish and impersonal.

Part of Rita’s alienation from nature also means she is not connected to the natural process of death and rebirth, despite feeling like she and the land are both dying, “flailing fish on a drying shore”. Mi'kmaw  artist Alan Syliboy, who created an art exhibit that will focus on Mi'kmaw traditions around death, told CBC "…in Mi'kmaw society, death is not covered or hidden. When you're a child, you're aware [of it]." Rita, however, is surrounded by Euro-American culture, which rarely interacts with death outside the funeral industrial complex. One of the tenets of the death positivity movement is that hiding death behind closed doors and surrounding it with a  culture of silence  does more harm than good. Another tenet is that death should be handled in a way that “does not do great harm to the environment” and encourages green burials. Historically, both things would have been practiced in most cultures, but the invention of the toxic embalming process took death customs out of the home and created a for-profit industry. If you’re interested in learning more about the history of embalming and the birth of the funeral industry, my sister has made a great video about it here. Today, standard funeral practices such as embalming and cremation are devastating the environment, poisoning the land and air.

The theme of environmental devastation is present throughout the book. It’s the Frog Croaking Moon, Squoljikus (around May), but the heat from climate change makes the loons think it’s summer and Rita can hear their mating calls. The Mi’kmaw names for the months, like the Trees Fully Leafed Moon, no longer match seasonal changes. She describes the heat as “unbearable” and feels like she’s being smothered by it. A history of colonial violence is inexorably linked to the current environmental crisis. Colonizers brought with them industrialization and capitalism, treating nature and its resources as something to be exploited. Indigenous environmental justice addresses both the injustices suffered by Indigenous people and the current climate crisis. Kānaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian) organizer Kaniela Ing wrote "Indigenous communities are disproportionately impacted by the climate crisis because we maintain the closest ties to our natural environment.” He also wrote “Any climate solution would be incomplete without justice at its core. Kānaka Maoli, Native Hawaiians, should be central to the rebuilding and recovery efforts. We should have the authority to manage our lands and resources.”

The water protectors of the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation are probably the best known example of Indigenous environmental justice. There’s also Shiela Watt-Cloutier, an Inuit Indigenous rights activist, and author of the book “Right to be Cold.” In it she writes about how global warming is destroying her home by melting the permafrost and ice caps, and causing unpredictable weather patterns. Dario Kopenawa, a Yanomami leader, combats illegal gold mining and deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon. And Rick O’Rourke, fire and fuels manager of the Yurok Cultural Fire Management Council, uses traditional Yurok knowledge of controlled burns to prevent forest fires in the Klamath mountains of northern California.

Throughout the book nature is described in a way that makes it seem violent and alien, and Rita is shown to be fearful of it (she’s even terrified of harmless moths), with a good dose of body horror mixed in to represent her fear. But as time passes, and Rita feels her body being reclaimed by nature her fear slowly morphs into acceptance. She even considers walking into the forest and disappearing. Morris’ descriptions of Rita’s strong emotions and fears feels like a frenzied fever dream, with the environment becoming a character itself. Her descriptions of grief are powerful and moved me to tears as I remembered my own experiences with grieving. With Green Fuse Burning Morris has created a beautiful, deeply personal story that flows like poetry. 

Bury Your Gays: An Anthology of Tragic Queer Horror edited by Sofia Ajram

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Ghoulish Books

Genre: Body Horror, Ghosts/Haunting, Killer/Slasher, Monster, Romance

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Queer and trans authors and characters

Content Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Body Shaming, Bullying, Death, Drug Use/Abuse, Eating Disorder, Homophobia, Medical Torture/Abuse, Medical Procedures, Necrophilia, Police Harassment, Rape/Sexual Assault, Slurs, Suicide, Torture, Transphobia, Violence (Highlight to view)

Blurb:

A manifestation of ecstasy, heartache, horror and suffering rendered in feverish lyrical prose. Inside are sixteen new stories by some of the genre's most visionary queer writers. Young lovers find themselves deliriously lost in an expanding garden labyrinth. The porter of a sentient hotel is haunted within a liminal time loop. A soldier and his abusive commanding officer escape a war in the trenches but discover themselves in an even greater nightmare. Parasites chase each other across time-space in hungry desperation to never be apart. A graduate student with violent tendencies falls into step with a seemingly walking corpse. Featuring stories from Cassandra Khaw, Joe Koch, Gretchen Felker-Martin, Robbie Banfitch, August Clarke, Son M., Jonathan Louis Duckworth, M.V. Pine, Ed Kurtz, LC Von Hessen, Matteo L. Cerilli, November Rush, Meredith Rose, Charlene Adhiambo, Violet, and Thomas Kearnes.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

An exquisite anthology of queer horror that boasts such talented authors as Cassandra Khaw, August Clarke, and Gretchen Felker-Martin, this collection contains something for everyone. In its pages, you’ll find alien fungi, body horror, dark fairytales, undead lovers, and lonely ghosts. Named for the common trope where gay characters often meet with untimely ends in mainstream media, this anthology subverts the trope by putting it in the hands of queer writers.

In Your Honor, I’d Like to Put You in the Shoes of One of Dr. Morehouse’s Thirty Proven Clients by M. V. Pine, a trans woman (although she’s never referred to as such) struggles to find gender-affirming care. It’s the 1970s and she’s been dishonorably discharged from the army for “mental health” reasons. Her family doesn’t support her. She refers to her genitals as “a tumor.” A tumor that’s benign (hence, no doctor will remove it for her) but still mortifying. Because she’d do anything to be rid of it, she becomes an easy mark for Dr. Morehouse, who performs dangerous back-alley vaginoplasties on trans women. His surgical room is dirty and he runs out of anesthesia halfway through the procedure. He doesn’t provide antibiotics or pain medication. But the woman would rather die than go another day living with her “tumor.”

This is a story is about what happens when people don’t have access to safe, gender-affirming care. In 2017 a trans woman known only as “Jane Doe” underwent a back-alley orchiectomy which caused her to lose large amounts of blood. Police arrested James Lowell Pennington, who had performed the procedure without a medical license. Doe defended Pennington stating "Arranging a back-alley surgery was out of pure desperation due to a system that failed me.” Why would someone risk their life for what seems like an elective procedure? A study published in JAMA that followed trans and non-binary youths ages 13 to 20 showed 60% reduction of depression and 73% reduction of suicidality in participants who had initiated puberty blockers and gender-affirming hormones compared to those who had not. Another study published in JAMA on gender-affirming surgeries among 27,715 trans and gender diverse adults showed a 42% reduction in psychological distress and a 44% reduction in suicidal ideation among those who were able to receive gender-affirming surgery compared to those who wanted to but could not. There are many such studies that show similar results. Access to safe, gender-affirming care is quite literally lifesaving and immensely improves quality of life for trans and gender diverse people.

Another story that touches on the desperation many trans people feel just to have access to gender-affirming care is Worth the Dying Shame by Matteo L. Cerilli. In it, trans men are being infected by tainted, counterfiet testosterone with a disease that causes their bodies to decay as if dead (a clear parallel to AIDS). They hide their Body Rot under heavy clothing, dark glasses, and face masks. This causes an already unaccepting public to further turn on trans men. With jobs drying up, friends abandoning them, and doctors no longer willing to prescribe testosterone, the men who are able to go back in the closet. Others are forced to buy their T on the black market since doctors are no longer willing to prescribe the real stuff, which carries an even greater risk of infection. The story follows two trans men who have become infected, Dimeshine and Rictus. Rictus chose to detransition because he can still pass for a girl, but Dimeshine continues to inject T despite the risk of decaying faster. Both turn to the dark web to try and slow their Body Rot, trusting the community more than they do hospitals (understandable considering how often healthcare fails trans people). The two argue over whether Dimeshine’s little brother, Ratty, who is still early in his transition, should use testosterone or not. Dimeshine is firmly against it, worried Ratty might become infected like he was, but Rictus argues that he can’t blame Ratty for wanting to die for something they both would have killed for. These stories are a solemn reminder of what happens when the healthcare system fails LGBTQIA+ patients. As someone who works in healthcare, I held both stories especially heartbreaking.

Surprisingly for a horror anthology, many of the stories were love stories. Editor Sofia Ajram states the collection “was created out of a desire to read stories about tragic queer love. Love that is broken, love that is toxic, and obsessive, and ill-fated. Love that is thwarted, as viewed through the lens of authors who are queer-identifying themselves.” Abusive relationships are too often played off as romantic (think Twilight and Hush Hush), so it’s nice to see those sorts of relationships being shown for what they are, even when the characters themselves can’t recognize it. While horrific in real life, villain protagonists and toxic relationships can be fascinating studies in fiction. I also enjoyed having imperfect, even villainous queer characters whose character faults aren’t tied to their sexuality.

In American Gothic by LC von Hessen, villain protagonist John Smith is a serial killer (although he’d never refer to himself as such since “those guys are losers”) who has an unfortunate habit of murdering his dates. It’s not premeditated, it just seems to happen. But one day, one of his victims, who he dubs “L,” comes back to life. Or rather, he reanimates, as he’s still technically dead. L has no memory of his time alive, so John weaves an ever changing, fictional history of their romance. As L slowly rots away, John falls deeper in love with him. As shown with his past crushes, John is more in love with the fantasy he conjures then the men themselves. L allows him to project his ideal partner on to a blank slate he can fall in love with, like some sort of twisted Pygmalion, whereas living men would frequently reject him for being unemotional or creepy. John is a selfish lover, viewing his partners only by what they can do for him rather than their needs. He stalks and harasses one of his exes to the point they delete all their social media, but John still views himself as the victim and wonders why he didn’t kill his ex. John wants L to live, not for L’s sake, but for his own. He even tells him, “I won’t let you die. You’re not allowed to die unless I want you to die.” His selfishness and obsessiveness reminded me of male stalkers who feel they’re owed something by the object of their affection and can’t understand the word “no.”

This Body is Not Your Home by Son M., Love Like Ours by C M Violet, and Fortune Favors Grief by Cassandra Khaw are also stories of men who kill their lovers. Domestic violence against men is rarely examined. Even though 1 in 10 men will experience intimate partner violence or stalking in their lifetime, DV is usually thought of as a women’s issue only. Research on domestic violence among LGBTQIA+ people is even more sparse, even though gay men experience higher rates of physical violence then straight men. So, it’s refreshing to see stories that focus on intimate partner violence in gay relationships. Some of the stories focus more on mental and emotional abuse rather than physical. Both Sardines by Gretchen Felker-Martin and Zero Tolerance by M. F. Rose deal with queer teenage girls who are bullied. The former is a body horror story about a fat girl struggling with her sexuality and the latter is about cyber bullying. In this case, it’s their non-romantic relationships that are toxic.

Cleodora by August Clarke is a more lighthearted tale that follows the romance between a beautiful sea monster and a sea captain. The Captain discovers the monster and claims her as her bride, naming her Cleodora after a prophetic river nymph (The Captain seems to conflate the nymph Cleodroa with Andromeda, a princess who was offered as a sacrifice to a sea monster and rescued by the Greek hero Perseus). She sees Cleodora as helpless, which may explain why the Captain has no qualms about marrying a monster, happily feeding her new bride live eels and listening to her stories of drowning men. Cleodora feels equally unthreatened, stating “It’s fortunate my true love is a woman, because women do not hurt each other.” Ironic, considering how the story ends. The story feels like the original, darker version of a German fairytale, with hints of selkie wife folklore and siren myths.

Not all the romances involve toxic relationships or unrequited love. Bad Axe by Ed Kurtz is a tragic love story wherein John loses his lover, Eric, to the lake at Bad Axe in Minnesota. They’re never able to recover the body, so John goes back to Bad Axe to drown himself so he can be with Eric again. A touching yet morbid story it shares similarities with the myth of Hero and Leander. Hero, a priestess of Aphrodite, throws herself out of her tower after her lover, Leander, drowns trying to swim to her. The tragedy in Bad Axe is that John and Eric have a beautiful relationship that was tragically taken from them and now John must try and navigate the world through his immense grief. Black Hole, a sci-fi story by November Rush, also centers around a beautiful relationship that’s torn apart, but this time it’s between two parasitic, sentient fungi. Despite not being human, their love is no less pure and real. Lost and Found by Charlene Adhiambo also deals with lovers being united in death, but in this case they didn’t know each other before they died. 

It’s an intense read-- many of the stories handle dark themes like transphobic healthcare systems, bullying, drug abuse, suicide and AIDS analogies--but a beautiful one, full of romance and tragedy. Remarkably, each one of the stories in Bury Your Gays is as strong as the last, and I’d be hard pressed to pick a favorite. Some broke my heart, others chilled me to the bone, and yet others were touching in a bittersweet way. But all left a lasting impression.

Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Tor

Genre: Body Horror, Eldritch, Monster, Occult, Psychological Horror, Sci-Fi Horror
Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Queer character (Gay woman), POC characters (Black, Creole woman, unknown POC character), Bisexual author, Malaysian author

Takes Place in: London

Content Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Body-Shaming, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Death, Gore, Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexism, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence (Highlight to view)

Blurb:

John Persons is a private investigator with a distasteful job from an unlikely client. He’s been hired by a ten-year-old to kill the kid’s stepdad, McKinsey. The man in question is abusive, abrasive, and abominable. He’s also a monster, which makes Persons the perfect thing to hunt him. Over the course of his ancient, arcane existence, he’s hunted gods and demons, and broken them in his teeth. As Persons investigates the horrible McKinsey, he realizes that he carries something far darker. He’s infected with an alien presence, and he’s spreading that monstrosity far and wide. Luckily Persons is no stranger to the occult, being an ancient and magical intelligence himself. The question is whether the private dick can take down the abusive stepdad without releasing the holds on his own horrifying potential.

During one of my late-night explorations of the internet (when I should have been sleeping but was instead googling all the random thoughts that pop into my head at 2 AM) I stumbled upon the work of Malaysian author Cassandra Khaw, a nerdy, queer woman who writes video games and short horror stories. Instantly intrigued, I purchased one of her novellas, Hammers on Bone, and I have to say, I fell absolutely, head-over-heels in love with Khaw's writing. Her beautifully crafted stories are full of wonderful words like "penumbra" and "ululation" (one of my favorite Latin derived words), deliciously grotesque descriptions, and unique characters. English is Khaw's third language, yet she uses it with a mastery that puts even native English speakers to shame. Her writing has a lot of range, too. These Deathless Bones is a feminist fairy tale about a witch getting sweet revenge on her wicked stepson. Rupert Wong, Cannibal Chef is a comedic splatterpunk series, as hilarious as it is gory, about the misadventures of the titular chef who prepares decadent meals of human flesh for gods and ghouls and gets wrapped up in international deity politics. Khaw has even dabbled in chick-lit (while also managing to poke fun at the more problematic elements of the genre) with her book, Bearly a Lady, about a bisexual, plus size wear-bear that works at a faerie-run fashion magazine. Then there's her Persona Non Grata series. Much like Victor LaValle's The Ballad of Black Tom, Khaw's novellas take place in a Lovecraft inspired universe, but she flips the famously racist HP the bird by putting people of color at the forefront and using his creations to address social issues like racism, poverty, and abuse. Both stories feature the private investigator, John Persons, one of the most interesting characters I've come across in horror fiction. It's the first of Person's two novellas, Hammers on Bone, that I'll be reviewing here.

Persons speaks and acts like the "hardboiled detective" characters from 1930s pulp magazines, complete with dated American vernacular and machismo, despite living in modern day London. This makes John seem incredibly out of place and occasionally downright ridiculous, like when he describes a little boy running into his arms for a hug as "crashing into me like a Russian gangster's scarred-over fist." When he's not working as a PI, John spends his time saving the world from destruction by Star Spawn and Elder-Things. He's adept at using magic, smokes cigarettes to dull his inhumanly strong sense of smell, enjoys the cold, and can pick up memories from objects and people through physical contact. He also happens to be a Dead One (though not one of the Great Old Ones, Persons is quick to explain), an otherworldly creature whose true, terrifying form comfortably possesses resides in a human body which he shares with the ghost of its previous inhabitant. I bet that's why he has the most unimaginative, made-up sounding name ever; it was probably the first thing that popped into his head when he started inhabiting his meat suit.

Persons and his human body have an interesting relationship, more commensal than parasitic. While other Star-Spawn and Elder Things simply take what they want, invading human flesh like a disease and eventually destroying their hosts, Persons tries to minimize damage to his meat suit (he may be immortal and resilient, but his human form still suffers from wear and tear, and he feels pain when it's damaged), and gives his phantasmal passenger a say in certain decisions. Even though he's in the driver's seat, John's body will still react to its original owner's thoughts and feelings, independent of him. In one scene, the meat suit becomes aroused by the proximity of a beautiful woman. Persons is aware of "his" body's quickening pulse and rising temperature (among "other" rising things, heh), and states that the sensation is "not unpleasant", but he describes the physical reaction with the detached interest of scientist observing a cell under a microscope. He is, after all, still an alien being.

Not much is known about the man whose skin he now wears, except that he's an older person of color who lived during the interwar period, and gave John his body willingly after being asked. The whole Philip Marlowe / Sam Spade persona Persons adopts to appear more human is as an homage to his meat suit's original owner. I guess it's kind of sweet that he does that, in a very weird way, but unfortunately his stubborn refusal to update his dated vocabulary and attitudes, or venture into any genre that isn't detective noir makes John come off as pretty sexist. He refers to women as "skirts," "broads," "dames," and "birds", and divides them into victims and femme fatales. This attitude backfires on him spectacularly since, of course, the real world isn't like his detective novels, and John keeps misjudging the women he interacts with.

What sets the monstrous PI apart from his fellow cosmic entities, besides seeking consent from his body's original owner, is his fondness for humanity, his dedication to following the law and maintaining order, and his desire for earth to remain more or less the way it is, i.e. not a barren hell-scape inhabited by Eldritch abominations.  Most of the monsters he fights are chaotic evil, infecting and destroying whenever they go, but John Persons is closer to lawful neutral, occasionally leaning towards good. He's not exactly heroic since, in his words, "Good karma don't pay the bills," but Persons does have a strong set of morals. As previously mentioned he's big on consent and describes the act of possessing a willing host's body as "better than anything else I'd ever experienced" and feels incredibly guilty when he accidentally reads a woman's mind after touching her arm. When she becomes understandably angry at the violation, screaming "You don't take what you're not given!" John doesn't try to minimize, excuse, or defend his behavior (even though the intrusion was an accident), he simply apologizes, mortified by what he's done. He can even show compassion at times, but how much of his altruistic behavior is due to the remaining sentience of his body's former inhabitant acting as his ghostly conscience is unclear.

It's his spectral companion who convinces John to take the case of a young boy named Abel, who wants Persons to kill his abusive stepfather. While initially hesitant about committing murder, John is convinced once the boy reveals that his stepfather is a monster, both literally and figuratively, and both Abel and his little brother's lives are in danger. He might not be a hero, but Persons does seem to genuinely want to help the two boys, even if he claims it's just because they're clients. It may be simply because he wants the ghost with whom he cohabitates to stop nagging him, as John is usually pretty indifferent to human suffering on his own, or perhaps it's because an Old One is involved, and he'd really prefer it not destroy the world. Regardless of the reason, he agrees to help.

In his eagerness to play white knight (or his meat suit's eagerness) Persons often fails to realize that the "helpless victims" he seeks to rescue are often perfectly able to take care of themselves, like the waitress whose mind he reads. He's also quick to victim blame the boys' mother for not leaving, clearly unable to understand the psychological element of abuse or how dangerous it is for a person to try and leave an abusive partner, just making her feel worse than she already does. John struggles when it comes to comforting victims or dealing with their emotions. He claims his lack of skill when it comes to words and feelings is due to being a "man" (or at least inhabiting the body of one), though it's just as likely it's because he's an eldritch abomination, and he's just been using sexism to avoid learning the nuances of human emotion. While Persons is better at managing his desire to destroy and devour than the other monsters and is able to maintain a detached control over his meat suit's emotions and baser instincts, he's not immune to the effects of his human body's testosterone or his own toxic misogyny. When the PI is feeling especially aggressive his true form starts to writhe beneath his human skin, straining to break free from his epidermis and rip apart the object of his ire. Even his thoughts start to degrade into a sort of violent, inhuman, babble when he gets too riled up. John actually has to fight to keep control of his monstrous body when he first encounters the abusive stepfather, he's so desperate to disembowel and devour him. His true nature is a stark contrast to the cool and logical detective persona Persons has adopted. I won't lie, I did enjoy seeing him act all protective of Abel and his little brother. There's something amusing about what is essentially an immortal abomination that can effortlessly rip a grown man in two, doing something as mundane and sweet as escorting his young client home while carrying the child's kid brother on his hip. It's also heartbreaking when you realize the two boys are safer with a literal monster than their step dad, McKinsey (even before he was possessed).

The step-father is a real piece or work, and throughout the story I desperately wanted John to give in to his monstrous instincts and tear the bastard apart, limb by limb. But being a man/monster of the law, Persons won't do much more than saber-rattle until he has solid proof of McKinsey's wrong doing, much to Abel's frustration. The kid would much rather the PI solve things with his fists (teeth, tentacles, claws, and other miscellaneous alien appendages) than waste time talking to witnesses, and I'd certainly be annoyed too if the monster I hired to kill someone wasted time playing detective instead of just eating his target. But Persons did warn Abel that he's not a killer for hire and wants to do things "by the book". Unfortunately, like most real monsters, McKinsey excels at hiding his wrong doing and camouflaging his true nature which makes it difficult for John to find a solid lead. People like McKinsey and describe him as a "loving family-man".  Those who haven't been completely conned by his act either don't care he's a monster (like his boss) or are too terrified to do anything (like his fiancée). None of the adults in the boys' lives are fulfilling their duty of protecting two vulnerable children. This is where the real horror lies in Khaw's story-- not the eldritch abominations like Shub-Niggurath, or the threats of world destruction, but the all too painful reminder that we so often fail abuse victims. Khaw is tasteful when describing what the two boys go through, and it isn't played for titillation or described in explicit detail. She only reveals enough to lets us know the two boys in the story are going through something no child should ever have to suffer. I also liked her choice to make the victims male. Far too often male survivors are overlooked, erased, or mocked because society tells us males can't be victims, even though the CDC states that "More than 1 in 4 men in the United States have experienced rape, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner in their lifetime" and a study published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine found that 1 in 6 boys will be sexually abused before the age of 18. As depressing as these statistics are, the situation isn't completely hopeless, because monsters aren't invulnerable, even the kind that have been infected by Elder Things. As Person muses towards the end of the book "I don't remember who said it, but there's an author out there who once wrote that we don't need to kill our children's monsters. Instead, what we need to do is show them that they can be killed." For those of us who can't go out an hire a eldritch abomination PI, at least we have RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) and their recommended resources for cases of abuse and sexual assault.

Claustrophilia by Ezra Blake

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The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: ‎Peachtree Teen

Genre: Blood & Guts, Body Horror, Ghosts/Haunting, Mystery, Gothic

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Neurodiversity (Autism), transgender characters, queer character

Takes Place in: London, England

Content Warnings: Abelism, Animal Death, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Medical Torture/Abuse, Medical Procedures, Miscarriage, Oppression, Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Sexism, Slurs, Slut-Shaming, Torture, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Victim Blaming, Violence  (Highlight to view)

Blurb:

Mors vincit omnia. Death conquers all. London, 1883. The Veil between the living and dead has thinned. Violet-eyed mediums commune with spirits under the watchful eye of the Royal Speaker Society, and sixteen-year-old Silas Bell would rather rip out his violet eyes than become an obedient Speaker wife. According to Mother, he’ll be married by the end of the year. It doesn’t matter that he’s needed a decade of tutors to hide his autism; that he practices surgery on slaughtered pigs; that he is a boy, not the girl the world insists on seeing. After a failed attempt to escape an arranged marriage, Silas is diagnosed with Veil sickness—a mysterious disease sending violet-eyed women into madness—and shipped away to Braxton’s Finishing School and Sanitorium. The facility is cold, the instructors merciless, and the students either bloom into eligible wives or disappear. When the ghosts of missing students start begging Silas for help, he decides to reach into Braxton’s innards and expose its guts to the world—if the school doesn’t break him first. Featuring an autistic trans protagonist in a historical setting, Andrew Joseph White’s much-anticipated sophomore novel does not back down from exposing the violence of the patriarchy and the harm inflicted on trans youth who are forced into conformity.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

Silas is an autistic trans boy living in Victorian London who wants nothing more than to be a surgeon like his brother, George, and his idol James Barry. Unfortunately for Silas, the world still sees him as a young girl with violet eyes.

In White’s alternative history people born with violet eyes are Speakers, those who can open the Veil that separates the living and dead to communicate with ghosts. But only violet-eyed men are permitted to be mediums. It is believed that women who tamper with the Veil will become unstable and a threat to themselves and others. Veil sickness is said to be the result of violet-eyed women coming into contact with the Veil and is blamed for a wide range of symptoms from promiscuity to anger, but is really just the result of women who don’t obediently follow social norms. Thus, England has made it strictly illegal for women to engage in spirit work. After Silas’ failed attempt to run away and live as a man, he is diagnosed with Veil sickness and carted off to Braxton’s Finishing School and Sanitorium to be transformed into an obedient wife. Braxton’s is your typical gothic school filled with sad waifs and dangerous secrets, namely that girls keep disappearing. The headmaster is a creep and his methods for curing young girls are abusive. Despite the danger, Silas is determined to get to the bottom of the mysterious disappearances and find justice for the missing girls.

Violet-eyed women are highly valued as wives who can produce violet-eyed sons and are in high demand among the elite. Silas is no different, and his parents are eager to marry him off to any man with money. If being made to live as a girl weren’t bad enough, the idea of being forced to bear children is even more horrific to Silas. As someone who struggles with Tokophobia myself, I found White’s descriptions of forced pregnancy to be a terrifying and especially disturbing form of body horror. Because of Silas’ obsession with medicine, the entire book is filled with medical body horror. There are detailed descriptions of injuries and surgeries, medical torture, and an at-home c-section/abortion. Personally, I loved all the grossness and the detailed descriptions of anatomy and medical procedures. But The Spirit Bares its Teeth is most definitely not for the squeamish or easily grossed-out. I appreciated that in the afterword White made a point of mentioning that in the real world, it was usually racial minorities who were the subject of medical experimentation (rather than wealthy White women), and then recommended the books Medical Apartheid by Harriet A. Washington and Medical Bondage by Deirdre Cooper Owens for readers to learn more.

I was also happy to see an autistic character written by an autistic author. Stories about Autistic individuals often are told by neurotypical people who characterize autism as “tragic” or as an illness that needs to be cured. In The Spirit Bares its Teeth, neurodiversity is humanized and we see how harmful a lack of acceptance and understanding of autism is. Silas is forced to mask by society, and we see how difficult and harmful masking is to him. He is taught by his tutors to ignore his own needs in favor of acting the way others want. They reinforce the idea that acting “normal” (i.e. neurotypical) is the only way anyone will tolerate him. Silas’ tutors use methods similar to the highly controversial Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) to force him to behave in a manner they deem appropriate. He is not allowed to flap his hands, pace or cover his ears at loud noises, and is forced into uncomfortable clothing that hurts his skin and to eat food that makes him sick. He is mocked for taking things literally and punished if he can’t sit still and keep quiet. It’s horrible and heartbreaking.

Although I’m not autistic, I do have Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD), a condition which has many overlapping symptoms with autism, including being easily overstimulated by sensory input. I have texture issues and White’s description of the uncomfortable clothing Silas is forced into made my skin itch in sympathy. It sounded like pure hell, and poor Silas can’t even distract himself with stimming so he just has to sit there and endure it. After meeting a non-verbal indentured servant whose autistic traits are much more noticeable, he also acknowledges that his ability to mask gains him certain privileges as he can “pass” as neurotypical (even though he should never have to pass in the first place and doing so is extremely harmful to his wellbeing).

In addition to its positive autism representation, White also does an excellent job portraying the struggles of being a trans person forced to live as their assigned gender. Interestingly, this is the first book with a transgender main character I’ve read where said character isn’t fully out or living as their true gender. Part of the horror of the story is that Silas can’t transition as he’s in an unsupportive and abusive environment. I also found it interesting that Silas is both trans and autistic as there’s an overlap between autism and gender identity/diversity.

The Spirit Bares its Teeth is a suspenseful and deeply disturbing gothic horror story about misogyny, ableism, and how society tries and controls women. I was absolutely glued to this story and could not put it down, no easy feat when my ADD demands constant distraction. Each revelation was more horrifying than the last and by the end I was terrified of what secrets Silas would uncover next. 

The Haunting of Alejandra by V. Castro

 

Writing: Highly reccomended 

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Penguin Random House

Genre: Body Horror, Demon, Ghosts/Haunting

Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Chicana characters and author, bisexual main character

Takes Place in: Phildelphia, PA

Content Warnings: Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Childbirth, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting, Gore, Illness, Miscarriage, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self-Harm, Suicide, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Xenophobia (Highlight to view)

Blurb:

Alejandra no longer knows who she is. To her husband, she is a wife, and to her children, a mother. To her own adoptive mother, she is a daughter. But they cannot see who Alejandra has become: a woman struggling with a darkness that threatens to consume her. When Alejandra visits a therapist, she begins exploring her family’s history, starting with the biological mother she never knew. As she goes deeper into the lives of the women in her family, she learns that heartbreak and tragedy are not the only things she has in common with her ancestors. Because the crying woman was with them, too. She is La Llorona, the vengeful and murderous mother of Mexican legend. And she will not leave until Alejandra follows her mother, her grandmother, and all the women who came before her into the darkness. But Alejandra has inherited more than just pain. She has inherited the strength and the courage of her foremothers—and she will have to summon everything they have given her to banish La Llorona forever.

The Haunting of Alejandra is about the horrors of being a mother, wife, and woman, and the sacrifices that come with it.

We first meet Alejandra when she’s hiding from her family in the shower, crying and feeling overwhelmed by their many demands. Her husband Matthew is unsupportive and as needy and demanding as her three children. On the rare occasions when Alejandra asks him to help her with the housework, Matthew uses a combination of weaponized incompetence and guilt-tripping to get out of it. He’s made Alejandra move away from her support network in Texas, and the birth mother she’d just reconnected with. He’s also convinced her to quit her job and raise their children full time, meaning she no longer has money of her own. Matthew owns everything, Alejandra’s name isn’t even on the bills. He makes all the decisions for the family; where they live, what they buy, and even where they travel on vacation. If Alejandra’s needs don’t align with what he wants in the moment Matthew will make his displeasure known. She feels like a shadow, barely existing.

Alejandra’s situation will be familiar to many married women. Like most heterosexual couples she takes on the majority of the housework and mental load. Matthew provides little to no help with chores, child raising, or managing the household. This is, sadly, not uncommon as according to the BBC "When it comes to household responsibilities, women perform far more cognitive and emotional labour than men." Alejandra has been trapped in this pattern since childhood, when, as the eldest daughter, her religious, adoptive parents forced her to do the bulk of the household chores and take care of her younger siblings. They also cut her off from her history and culture, refusing to let her read anything about Mexico that went against their fundamentalist Christian beliefs. Alejandra is surrounded by White people who don’t understand her. When she tries to tell her eldest daughter the story of La Llorona, something to connect her to her heritage, she’s scolded by her daughter’s teacher for telling her child scary stories. 

When Alejandra expresses dissatisfaction with her situation, her concerns aren’t taken seriously. Even when she admits to feeling suicidal she’s met with shame and “I’m sorry you feel that way” from her husband who frequently points out she has everything material she could ever want, so why should she be unhappy? Worse still, something that resembles la Llorona, the ghostly woman from Mexican folklore who drowned her two children, is haunting Alejandra, telling her she’s a terrible mother. Throughout the course of the story we learn that Alejandra is not the only mother the creature has haunted. Each of the women in Alejandra’s matrilineal line had their own struggles with motherhood and a lack of autonomy.  Miscarriage, feeling unworthy of love, carrying an unwanted child, forced marriage, teenage pregnancy, the list goes on. And each woman was haunted by the specter of la Llorona who fed off their pain and sorrow, resulting in generational trauma that goes back centuries.

Eventually Alejandra decides to take back the power her husband, parents, and the monster took from her by getting help. I really appreciated that unlike most fictional characters Alejandra actually has the self-awareness to go to therapy when she realizes how bad things have gotten. Even better, her therapist, Melanie, is competent, and culturally informed. She is a Chicana woman, like Alejandra, who practices both modern psychotherapy as a doctor and traditional medicine as a curandera. She believes Alejandra when the stressed mom tells her that she’s being stalked by some kind of monster and is able to advise her on how to protect herself from the evil sprit and cleanse her home. Melanie helps Alejandra reconnect to the cultural roots her adoptive parents sought to destroy, encouraging her to read up on this history of Chicana women and advising her to build an altar to her ancestors in her home. While we’ve all heard horror stories of bad therapists, I found it refreshing to see a therapist in fiction who’s actually good at her job and not a White man. Having had some incredibly helpful queer therapists myself I know the importance of having culturally competent care, and what a difference it makes when your provider isn’t basing their care on a White, heteronormative, Capitalist model. I loved Melanie, and I wish there were more doctors like her in the world.

Photo of Felicia Cocotzin Ruiz, a modern curandera. Photography by Laura Segall.

Alejandra also reaches out to her birth mother, who may not have been meant to raise a child but is more than ready to provide emotional support to her adult daughter. Melanie teaches her how to call upon the strength of her female ancestors who appear to her in her dreams. With all these strong women standing behind her Alejandra is able to find her own inner strength to stand up to both Matthew and her monster, as she fights to keep the generational curse from passing down to her own daughter. I really loved the theme of women supporting and healing other women. When Alejandra is finally able to ask for help without feeling guilty or like a burden the women in her life are there the minute she needs them. They believe her stories of a monster and are ready to offer their help in whatever for Alejandra needs it.

Overall The Haunting of Alejandra is an emotional and painful, but ultimately rewarding read about women, Mexican culture, and generational trauma. It’s a slow burn horror, and while I usually don’t have the patience for those I was so enraptured with the story that it felt like it flew by. While not a parent myself, I know women who are, and the book rang true of their more difficult experiences with motherhood like feeling overwhelmed and isolated. I’ve been following V. Castro’s books for a while now and I have to say, she just gets better and better with each piece she rights. It’s truly impressive and I can’t wait to read what she writes next.

(UN) Bury your Gays by Clinton W. Waters

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: Self Published

Genre: Body Horror, Eldritch, Sci-Fi,  Zombie

Audience: Y/A

Diversity: Gay author and characters

Content Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Animal Death, Bullying, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Physical Abuse, Slurs, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence (Highlight to view)

Blurb:

It's the late 2000's. Humphrey West and his best friend Danny are just trying to survive their senior year. Unfortunately, Danny falls short of that goal after a risky rendezvous. But Humphrey has just the thing: a concoction borne of magic and science that is able to bring the dead back to life (at least it's worked on a bee so far). Against all odds, Danny comes back from the clutches of death. The Danny that returns is...different. And it's not just the missing memories. Soon, Humphrey is doing everything in his power to keep his friend alive, but none the wiser to what is happening. A queering of the Lovecraft classic "Herbert West - Reanimator", (UN)Bury Your Gays is about blurring the boundaries between life and death, love and obsession, and secrets and lies.

I received this product for free in return for providing an honest and unbiased review. I received no other compensation. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

Considering what a raging bigot H.P. Lovecraft was, it’s always delightful when one of his works is reclaimed by marginalized creators, because you just know it would drive him absolutely batty. On top of being racist, sexist, xenophobic, and antisemitic, Lovecraft was also a homophobe. He discouraged his close friend, a gay man named Robert Hayward Barlow, from writing homoerotic fiction, and his letters condemned homosexuality (though it’s unclear if Lovecraft ever knew the man he appointed as the executor of his literary estate was gay). However, some literary critics speculate that Lovecraft was himself secretly gay or asexual. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a homophobe would be overcompensating for a sexuality they were secretly ashamed of. It would certainly explain the strangely close friendship between one of Lovecraft’s most popular characters, Herbert West, and the unnamed narrator in Herbert West: Reanimator. Perhaps Lovecraft subconsciously created a male-male relationship that he himself desired.

The original story was first serialized in the pulp magazine Home Brew in 1922 and told the story of Herbert West and his loyal assistant, two medical students at Miskatonic University who experiment with reviving the dead. Their experiments are less than successful as the reanimated corpses become violent and animalistic; one even devours a child. The two share a close relationship, choosing to live together for years, even though the assistant admits to being terrified of his friend. The movie Re-Animator (1985) and its sequel Bride of Re-Animator (1990) furthers the gay subtext between the movie’s main characters Herbert West (Jeffery Combs) and Dan Cain (Bruce Abbot), with West often acting like a jealous lover to Dan. The homoerotic reading of the first two Re-Animator movies is apparently so popular it has over 500 fanfics shipping the two on Archive of our Own.  

(Un) Bury Your Gays is “a queering” of Herbert West: Reanimator that also draws inspiration from the films. (For example, the chemical solution in Waters’ story has a green glow, a movie-specific detail.) The title is a reference both to subverting the Bury Your Gays trope and to the plot itself where a gay character is brought back from the dead and literally “unburied.” The novella tells the story of Herbert West’s great-nephew Humphrey West, and his best friend, Danny Moreland (who takes over the role of the assistant and whose name is a reference to Dan Cain). Danny and Humphrey are best friends, and the only two queer kids in their religious, rural town. While they do love each other, it’s purely platonic and the two aren’t in a romantic relationship. Humphrey remains single while Danny secretly hooks up with the captain of the football team, Judd Thomas, who also happens to be the son of the town pastor and Humphrey’s biggest bully.The trouble starts when Humphrey discovers his great-uncle’s notebook detailing the secret to life after death. Humphrey attempts to use the reanimator solution to bring a dead bee back to life, with the hope that he can somehow use it to fight colony collapse disorder. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions and the solution soon leads to death and the destruction of Danny and Humphrey’s friendship.

Waters does an excellent job mimicking Lovecraft’s original story, both in tone and content, while also making it uniquely his own. Initially appearing to be a sensitive kid, Humphrey is eventually revealed to be every bit as complex as his great-uncle. His desire for revenge causes him to make morally questionable choices, which he rationalizes as trying to protect his best friend. He comes off as cold to others (much like Herbert West), even though he feels things deeply.  It's an interesting twist to have the reanimator narrate the story, rather than his assistant. We get to hear firsthand what’s going through the mind of the mad scientist, making Humphrey a much more sympathetic character. He clearly loves Danny, and will do anything to protect him, but he takes it too far and becomes obsessive and controlling without even realizing it. When things go too far, Humphrey doesn’t show remorse-- much to Danny’s horror. But all Humphrey wants is to keep his friend safe. He genuinely thinks he’s doing the right thing and can’t comprehend why Danny gets upset with him and eventually cuts him out of his life. And because Humphrey’s character is sympathetic, and we know how he feels and thinks, I honestly felt bad for him. It’s a compassion I can’t conjure for either the original Herbert West or the film version, both of whom, while not necessarily evil, are definitely on the lower end of the morality scale.

Overall Water’s queer retelling/sequel to Herbert West: Reanimator is an excellently written, morally gray horror that’s sure to please Lovecraft fans.