Hoodoo by Ronald Smith

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Clarion Books

Genre: Folk Horror, Historic Horror, Demon, Occult, Myth and Folklore

Audience: Children

Diversity: BIPOC (Black, African American, Caribbean American)

Takes Place in: Alabama, USA

Content Warnings: Animal Death, Bullying, Child Endangerment, Death, Illness, Racism, Physical Abuse (highlight to view)

Blurb:

Twelve-year-old Hoodoo Hatcher was born into a family with a rich tradition of practicing folk magic: hoodoo, as most people call it. But even though his name is Hoodoo, he can't seem to cast a simple spell.         Then a mysterious man called the Stranger comes to town, and Hoodoo starts dreaming of the dead rising from their graves. Even worse, he soon learns the Stranger is looking for a boy. Not just any boy. A boy named Hoodoo. The entire town is at risk from the Stranger’s black magic, and only Hoodoo can defeat him. He’ll just need to learn how to conjure first.         Set amid the swamps, red soil, and sweltering heat of small town Alabama in the 1930s, Hoodoo is infused with a big dose of creepiness leavened with gentle humor.

I really wanted to love this book. I really, really did. The cover art is dark and beautiful, the premise sounded right up my alley, the story is inspired by African-American folklore and oral traditions, the villain is genuinely creepy, the representation of Hoodoo feels authentic rather than sensationalized, and it's a historical novel with a Black main character that isn't about oppression and racism *gasp*. I was so hyped up for Hoodoo and ready to fall in love. And I will say, the ideas behind the story are great, I like the characters and I like the concept. The execution? Not so much.

Now Hoodoo  isn't a bad book by any stretch, and I think part of the issue may have been that this is a story intended for kids, and I probably would've loved it a lot more if I were a child. The other problem was that I had incredibly high expectations going in, which would be hard to live up to, and that's on me. It's also important to note that my lukewarm feelings toward the story also seem to be in the minority: other reviews I've read have all been glowing endorsements, so I'm probably just being a grumpy, nit-picking potato. I still recommend checking it out, especially for young readers who love spooky stuff, it just wasn't as amazing as I was hoping. I had a lot of issues with Hoodoo  that prevented me from enjoying the book as fully as I desired to.

For one thing, the pacing is all over the place. The villain doesn't get enough of a buildup before his big reveal, and the ending feels rushed while other scenes dragged on, especially in the beginning. Unnecessary details got more focus than I felt they deserved. It's a serious bummer when the final showdown between the villain and the hero is only a page or two long and he's defeated with so much ease. Instead of driving forward, the plot just kind of wandered around aimlessly until it got distracted by something shiny. Characters and ideas were introduced then abandoned, appearing for one or two scenes before vanishing into the plot hole from which they came, never to be heard from again. It's like Smith had written this long, epic story, but had to cut the book down to fit in a 200-page kids book, and he just randomly chose what to remove in last minute panic.

It's annoying that otherwise interesting characters are reduced to one-scene wonders, but it's even more annoying that their sole function is to drop solutions in Hoodoo 's lap any time he encounters an obstacle. This greatly minimizes the sense of danger, because every problem seems to get solved (whether for better or worse) almost immediately. Too bad the Fellowship of the Ring didn't have this kid, it'd probably cut their travel time in half, Sean Bean might still be alive, and Sauron would've been taken out with one punch. I get that Deus Ex Machina is par for the course with these kinds of stories, but at least pretend the hero might not make it by building the suspense a little, or making them really work for a solution. It's hard to feel like there's anything at stake when a random talking crow or another seemingly random character swoops in to save the day without Hoodoo having to do much on his end. I guess that's why he keeps stubbornly refusing his family's help like a jerk, because his magic causes everything to just work out with minimal effort. At least, that's what I assume it does since it's never really explained how Hoodoo's powers work other than some really vague hints.

Hoodoo can also be a pretty vexing narrator. He has a habit of defining random words and then ending his sentence with "If you didn't know". I know this is probably the most random, arbitrary nitpick, but while it was only mildly irritating the first half-dozen times, by the third chapter I could barely suppress my urge to scream and punch something every time Hoo Doo felt like he had to explain what Molasses or an Outhouse was, then end the sentence with "if you didn't know". I KNOW WHAT AN OUTHOUSE IS GET ON WITH THE STORY BEFORE I THROW YOU IN ONE. I get that the book is for kids, and they may not know what cracklin' is, but I'm pretty sure most children who are capable of reading a chapter book are also able to perform a basic Google search or use a dictionary. And that's assuming they can't just figure out a word from context. I didn't know what "Squirrel Nut Zippers" were before reading this (ironically the one thing Hoodoo didn't feel like explaining) but I was still able to discern that he was talking about a sweet and not the swing band based on the context. And then I Googled it and learned that Squirrel Nut Zippers are a vanilla flavored caramel candy mixed with[HA1]  peanuts. So now I know that random bit of trivia and that Hoodoo likes gross candy. Maybe it was an attempt by Smith to make his character sounds more "natural" when he's talking to the audience, but I felt like the narrative came to a screeching halt every time Hoodoo whipped out his annoying catchphrase. Maybe (probably) I'm just really, easily annoyed but all the "If you didn't know”s were like nails on a chalkboard and distracted me from trying to enjoy the story.

And while I'm dumping on Hoodoo, here's something else that made my hackles rise; while talking about his best friend, Bunny, he says "That's what I liked about her. She wasn't like the other girls at the schoolhouse. She did everything a boy did and some things even better." Saying a girl "isn't like other girls" isn't an empowering compliment, you just insulted her entire gender and basically told her "wow, you don't suck like all those other icky girls" in addition to implying that women who are more like men are somehow better. Seriously, don't try and compliment a woman by putting other women down, or tell her "you're not like other women, you're more like a man". Being masculine or feminine shouldn't be a compliment or an insult, and people aren't better or worse by being one or the other. Bunny is a pretty cool character and all, but I could have done without Hoodoo's sexist comments (which are never called out in the story itself).

Despite all the pacing issues, and the protagonist's exasperating habit of defining every piece of Soul Food he comes across (I KNOW what grits are, you don't have to stop the story and tell me!!!!) there was still plenty to enjoy. Namely, that we get a piece of historic fiction with a Black protagonist that isn't about racism or segregation. *gasp* Look, narratives about how poorly Black people have been treated (and are still treated) in this country are both important and necessary, and something every child should learn about. The ugliness of slavery, segregation, Jim Crow laws, and the history of racism that still exists in this country shouldn't be glossed over, hidden, or worse, perpetuating the myth of the smiling slave and the benevolent slave owner (looking at you  A Birthday Cake for George Washington, you were published in 2016, you should know better), and I commend schools that teach kids about these issues. But, it's still problematic when all the books about Black people focus only on segregation, slavery, and sports. Or, as librarian and author Scott Woods puts it, boycotts, buses, and basketball. That's not all there is to Black culture and Black Americans!

Where are the stories where Black kids just have a fun adventure for the sake of a fun adventure? Where's the escapist fiction and epic tales with the Black hero? Where are the biographies of black scientists, inventors, artists, and entrepreneurs? I tried to think of all the books with Black protagonists I was assigned in grade school, way back in the 90s (by my white teachers, in my mostly white school, where there were literally so few BIPOC that we all knew each other), and all I could remember reading was Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry in fourth grade. At first, I thought I just had a faulty memory, since I'm old and forget everything. I asked two of my siblings if they could recall any African American literature from our school days. My sister said "No, but I read Beloved in High School", and my brother was pretty sure the teacher read the class "some picture book about Jackie Robinson". So yeah, segregation, slavery and sports.  Apparently making us read one depressing story by a Black author during Black History Month was just enough to alleviate my grade school's White guilt, and then they could all pat themselves on the back for being so woke.

Kids these days (Wow, I sound old) at least have the We Need Diverse Books campaign, and I'm glad for that. I would've killed to read a ghost story or a fairy tale with a Black protagonist when I was a child. And that's what made me so happy about Hoodoo. It's probably one of the few works of historical fiction (technically fantasy) I can think of that takes place in the Jim Crow south that isn't entirely focused on oppression of the book's characters. Hoodoo isn't a victim, he's the story’s hero, and he gets to fight the big, bad monster and save his loved ones. It's a fun, spooky, escapist story with a character children can admire for his intelligence and bravery rather than athletic ability, and the reader gets to learn about Southern Black culture of the time period. There's still racism lurking in the background, this is 1930's Alabama after all, as is evident when Hoodoo and Bunny have to go to the carnival on the "colored folk's" day, or when Hoodoo's aunt has to go clean for rich, White people, it's just not the focus of the story. Smith acknowledges that segregation, lynching, and other horrors were a part of life for Hoodoo and his family, and then he moves on with the plot because they're so much more than just their oppression. Then we get a story of Hoodoo fighting the forces of evil with magic, learning about his past, and being awesome. This is the book every kid who was stuck with a white-washed reading list wished they could've read growing up. Despite all my complaining, I truly hope we haven't heard the last of Hoodoo Hatcher.

My Sweet Audrina by V.C. Andrews

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Link to book

Genre: Gothic Horror, Romance, Thriller
Audience: Adult/Mature

Diversity: Intellectual Disability, Possible Autism, Physical Disability (bilateral above the knee amputee), Chronic Illness (Osteogenesis imperfecta/brittle bone disease), PTSD

Cognitive/Learning Disability

Takes Place in: Southern US

Content Warnings: Abelism, Alcohol Abuse, Body Shaming, Bullying, Implied Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Child Death, Childbirth, Death, Forced Captivity, Gaslighting,  Illness, Emotional Incest, Medical Torture/Abuse, Miscarriage, Mental Illness, Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Racism, Rape/Sexual Assault, Implied Self-Harm, Sexism, Sexual Abuse, Slut Shaming, Suicide Attempt, Transphobia, Verbal/Emotional Abuse (Highlight to view)


Blurb:

V.C. Andrews, author of the phenomenally successful Dollanganger series, has created a fascinating new cast of characters in this haunting story of love and deceit, innocence and betrayal, and the suffocating power of parental love. Audrina Adare wanted so to be as good as her sister. She knew her father could not love her as he loved her sister. Her sister was so special, so perfect -- and dead. Now she will come face to face with the dangerous, terrifying secret that everyone knows. Everyone except... My Sweet Audrina

Holy fuck, this book.



This book is definitely the winner of the OMGWTFBBQ award

If you're unfamiliar with V. C. Andrews, she wrote gothic horror novels during the eighties about really messed up, toxic, abusive, families that Lifetime loves to turn into terrible made-for-TV movies.  A standard Andrews book usually contains gas lighting, emotional and physical abuse, dark family secrets, and some of the most fucked up relationships ever put to paper that run the gambit from pedophilia to incest. Imagine if all guests on the Jerry Springer show were rich, beautiful, gothic heroines with enough skeletons in their closets to start their own ossuary, and you'll have an idea of what you're in for. They're trash novels, but in the best possible way, written by a talented author who knows her audience is looking to be shocked and horrified, like splatterpunk without the gore. Her stories may be ridiculous and over-the-top at times, but never, ever dull, and of all her fucked up books, My Sweet Audrina is probably her most fucked up. It manages to contain nearly every content warning I have that doesn't involve blood and gore (although there is a rather grisly scene where a woman miscarries and throws one of the blood clots at her mother in a fit of rage). There's a brutal child rape, a lot of abuse by a manipulative bastard, everyone messing with Audrina's mind, and a dead aunt who may or may not have been eaten by cannibals, so be forewarned, My Sweet Audrina is not for the squeamish.

Damian Adere, the family patriarch, is aptly named because the guy is just fucking evil. He's greedy, immature, vain, sexist, lazy, abusive, controlling, narcissistic, and manages to destroy the lives of every woman he knows while still seeing himself  as the victim because he's just that fucking self-centered. Yet, he continues to get away with his awful behavior because he's handsome, charming, and extremely manipulative, which honestly makes him even more frightening. In the first few chapters he comes off as kind of a dick but still likable. His daughter, Audrina, who acts as the book's narrator, still loves and respects him. But over the course of the story as we witness his true nature, Damian quickly goes from seemingly well-intentioned but misguided, to a full-blown asshole, then finally becomes Satan incarnate. In fact, I'm still not entirely convinced this isn't some sort of sequel to The Omen where the Anti-Christ kid grows up to become a lazy, whiny, codependent, narcissistic asshat who gets married and lives in a dilapidated mansion that he never lets his daughter leave. Actually, comparing Damian to Satan seems unfair because even the Dark Lord isn't that big of a flaming dick. I can just imagine the devil reading My Sweet Audrina and being utterly horrified. The other characters, save for our virtuous heroine, Audrina, aren't a whole lot better, although a lot of their behavior can be more or less attributed to Damian's abuse.



I just assume Satan is ripped

Audrina's mother, Lucietta, had to give up her dream of becoming a concert pianist to marry Damian (because he didn't want his wife to make more money than him), and now hides her misery by living in denial and drinking to numb the pain. She frequently lashes out at her sister, Ellsbeth, who has become bitter (again, thanks to Damian) and abusive, neglecting her own daughter, Vera. In turn, Vera has turned into a complete monster before the start of the book because nobody loves her and Damian (whom she sees as her father) constantly treats her like shit and compares her to his "perfect" daughter, Audrina. As horrible as Vera is (and she's pretty fucking horrible), you can't help but feel sorry for her. She's forced to be the whore to Audrina's virgin, which makes her hate and resents her cousin. She's so desperate for love and attention that 14-year-old Vera has "sex" with an adult man (everyone acts like it's consensual sex when it's very clearly statutory rape), and acts seductively from a young age. Of course none of the adults think "Hey, this isn't normal behavior for a child, maybe we should get her some help" they just decided "She's just a slut, oh well, who cares." Meanwhile Audrina is haunted by memories of a childhood rape, which her father keeps forcing her to remember in a sick attempt to make her "perfect" (I'm not even going to try and explain Damian's troll logic on this one). He reinforces her role as the virgin by frequently telling his daughter that all men are evil and forcing her to cover up in old fashioned dresses lest she be attacked. Is it any wonder Audrina becomes terrified of sex and disgusted by nudity to the point that she can't even be intimate with someone she loves without trauma? Of course Damian is totally fine with this because it means she's less likely to have a relationship with any man that isn't him. If that makes your skin crawl, well, it should, because even Audrina describes their relationship as being like husband and wife without the sex. Ew. At least there isn't any actual incest like I was fearing, which is a first for a V C Andrews novel. 

Even Lucietta isn't safe from her husband's slut shaming, as Damian flies into a rage if her outfits are too revealing and accuses her of flirting with the men at the parties he forces her to host. He wants to show off his pretty wife, but then gets ridiculously jealous when other men think she's pretty and ends up throwing a tantrum. He loves to be surrounded by women who adore him, but doesn't want to share, so everyone is essentially trapped in this giant, run down house where Damian can keep an eye on them, isolated from the rest of the world. Like I said, the dude is fucking evil, and doesn't even realize it. Or maybe he does, but simply doesn't give a shit. Basically, if there was a drinking game where you had to take a shot every time Damien pulls a dick move, no one would ever finish the book because they'd die from alcohol poisoning after a few chapters.

Now, you're probably wondering where the diversity comes in. I chose this book because of its representation of disability which, while not ideal (especially in Sylvia's case), was at least written by an author who herself had a physical disability for most of her life. As a teenager, Andrews developed severe arthritis and underwent multiple spinal surgeries to treat it. Andrews says this was the result of a back injury she sustained from falling on a staircase in high school, while her family claims it was something she was born with. Regardless, the resulting chronic pain required the use of a wheelchair or crutches for most of her life. Andrews lived at home, under the care of her mother, where she completed a four-year correspondence course in art, before starting her career as a writer. Her very first book, Flowers in the Attic, is about four children who are kept in the attic for years by their religious grandmother, and the toll it takes on their mental and physical well-being. Andrews said in a 1985 interview for Faces of Fear that Flowers in the Attic was based on her own feelings of frustration at being trapped at home. While accessibility for people with mobility issues still isn't great, I can imagine it was even worse when Andrews was growing up, and she died four years prior to the passing of the Americans with Disabilities Act. This theme of feeling "trapped" continues in My Sweet Audrina, where five of the six women in the story have some kind of disability that limits their freedom, which Damien of course takes full advantage of. Even the stairs that may or may not have been the start of Andrews' chronic pain and limited mobility feature prominently in the book. The Adere house's staircase essentially goes on a killing spree, offing multiple family members to the point where I have to wonder if the stairs were constructed from the bones of murdered children and cursed relics. Or maybe it's just haunted by all the ghosts of the people Damien pissed off (which I can only imagine is every person he's ever met). Andrews' representation of disability is definitely problematic, but also complex and extremely personal, which is what makes this story worth exploring. It's one of the few horror novels I've been able to find about disability that was actually written by a disabled person.

Vera has brittle bone disease, frequently breaking an arm or leg at the slightest bump. Audrina's younger sister, Sylvia has autism and/or an intellectual disability (it's not handled or explained well by Andrews) that requires full time care. Lucietta seems to have a heart disease that limits her activity. Billie, the Adere's neighbor and one of the few likable characters in the book, is a bilateral amputee following complications from diabetes. Then there's Audrina, whose untreated PTSD leaves her too terrified to leave her yard, even though she desperately wants to go to school and have friends. Audrina is sort of a Mary Sue for Andrews, what with her violet eyes, magically color changing hair, and extraordinary beauty (seriously, WTF?). They're both artistic, unable to leave the house, and need to rely heavily on their families to function which causes them great frustration. The depictions of women with disabilities in My Sweet Audrina aren't particularly progressive, and can even be downright ablest at time (especially when it comes to Sylvia), but the characters are all unique with very different personalities, outlooks, and ways of dealing with their disabilities.


 What Audrina looks like, presumable. Unrelated, but I wish I had that Spoopy shirt in real life.

Audrina desperately wishes for freedom and is frustrated by her PTSD, but without proper help and treatment she struggles to deal with her trauma (thanks a fucking lot, Damien). She does try to force herself to "get over it" a few times, and it doesn't go well. Vera, on the other hand, seems proud of her disability, bragging about her delicate bones and teasing Audrina for having "peasant bones", though it's most likely an act to make herself feel better. Vera will frequently play up her disability to get out of doing chores, and even purposely hurt herself for attention, even though her mother and Damien seem fairy unconcerned by her injuries. Billie, on the other hand, is ashamed of her residual limbs, and goes to great effort to hide them. Her husband left her after her legs were amputated, and she now sees herself as "damaged" and "unlovable" despite being drop-dead gorgeous and able to function just fine with the use of a wheeled board. Although Billie continues to live her life and seems pretty happy for the most part, she's still incredibly insecure, making her an easy target for Damien. Finally there's Sylvia, the youngest Adare daughter, who gets ignored and insulted by pretty much everyone except Audrina, her appointed caretaker. Because why would Damien get actual help when he can just make Audrina play Occupational Therapist for free? And then everyone seems ~shocked~ that Sylvia's not making much progress when she has a child (who only just started going to school herself) as her teacher. At least Sylvia gets some revenge on her awful family. It's never outright confirmed, but is strongly implied that she knows more than she lets on and allows people to underestimate her abilities so she can better manipulate them (and occasionally possibly murder them). Part of me really hopes Sylvia is knowingly screwing with everyone as a sort of "fuck you" to her neurotypical family who constantly calls her really ableist slurs and compare her to an animal, because they really fucking deserve it. Now if only she'd arrange for Damien to have a little accident....

My Sweet Audrina is a combination of exploitation horror and chick lit, meant to grab your attention from the first paragraph and brand its shocking subject manner deep into your brain so that years from now you'll still be thinking "God, that was a fucked up book." And if you're wondering why I would inflict this on myself, well, A) Because I'm a horror fan, that's kind of what I do, and B) It's just so damn enjoyable. It's a wonderful guilty pleasure I couldn't put down until the end, and Andrews is a talented writer who is fully aware of what she's creating. So what if the story can sometimes read like Soap Opera fan fiction written by a fourteen-year-old?  My Sweet Audrina is especially interesting when viewed as a personal exploration of the author's feelings of being "trapped' by her chronic pain and mobility issues.  For fans of tragic heroines, gothic horror, and guilty pleasures, I'd definitely recommend My Sweet Audrina.

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle

Formats: Print, audio, digital

Publisher: Tor

Genre: Eldritch, Monster, Historic Horror, Occult, Sci-Fi Horror

Audience: Y/A, Adult/Mature

Diversity: Black characters (African American and Caribbean)

Takes Place in: Harlem, New York City

Content Warnings: Bullying, Death, Gore, Mental Illness, Medical Procedures, Oppression, Physical Abuse, Police Harassment, Racism, Torture, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence, Xenophobia (Highlight to view)


Blurb:

People move to New York looking for magic and nothing will convince them it isn't there. Charles Thomas Tester hustles to put food on the table, keep the roof over his father's head, from Harlem to Flushing Meadows to Red Hook. He knows what magic a suit can cast, the invisibility a guitar case can provide, and the curse written on his skin that attracts the eye of wealthy white folks and their cops. But when he delivers an occult tome to a reclusive sorceress in the heart of Queens, Tom opens a door to a deeper realm of magic, and earns the attention of things best left sleeping. A storm that might swallow the world is building in Brooklyn. Will Black Tom live to see it break?

Oh Lovecraft, you were such a great horror writer, but an absolutely terrible human being.

When it comes to Lovecraft, I have some very complicated opinions. I adore the Cthulhu mythos, cosmic horror, and the concept of forbidden knowledge that utterly destroys your sanity, but it's hard to enjoy his writing when he liberally peppers it with his hatred for anyone who isn't a WASP. One minute  I'm reading an enjoyable little story about a cosmic abomination and the dark secrets humanity was never meant to know, and the next it's morphed into some sort of eugenics bullshit. Here's a small sampling of just some of the bullshit he pulls in his stories: In the Case Of Charles Dexter Ward Lovecraft describes a woman as having "a very repulsive cast of countenance, probably due to a mixture of negro blood," in Herbert West: Reaminator the black boxer, Buck Robinson, is compared to an ape, in The Rats in the Walls there's a black cat named N****r Man, The Horror at Red Hook is basically just Lovecraft rambling about how much he hates immigrants and black people who he refers to as a "contagion" with "primitive half-ape savagery", and in Medusa's Coil he describes slavery as "a civilization and social order now sadly extinct". Oh, and let's not forget that poem. There's a good reason why Lovecraft's bust is no longer used for the World Fantasy Award trophy, the guy was a dick.



I tried to draw Nnedi Okorafor, "tried" being the operative word. She says I got it right from the shoulders up though!

Now, before anyone uses the "Lovecraft was just a product of his time" excuse, please consider this: Yes, his active years as a writer were during the incredibly racist segregation era, but not everyone shared his shitty beliefs about people of color and Jews. Mary White Ovington, Moorfield Storey, and William English Walling were all white, but they were also supporters of  civil rights and racial equality during the same period, and even helped found the NAACP with W. E. B. Du Bois. So it's not like every white person in the 1920s and 1930s was racist. Lovecraft would've at least been aware of civil rights due to Guinn v. United States, a landmark case that found racist literacy tests unconstitutional, the National Negro Business League which helped to double the number of black owned businesses, and prominent black lawyer Charles Hamilton Houston, who was fighting for civil rights in court. Hell, even his friends and family criticized the horror writer's ignorant attitude. Lovecraft's wife, Sonia Greene, and friend Samuel Loveman were both horrified by Lovecraft's anti-Semitism and resented him for it. Sonia even wrote, "Whenever we found ourselves in the racially mixed crowds which characterize New York, Howard would become livid with rage... He seemed almost to lose his mind." When Lovecraft attacked Charles D. Isaacson's, article on racial tolerance, In a Minor Key, in his own article titled In a Major Key (where he praised the KKK as "that noble but much maligned of Southerners who saved half our country from destruction") he managed to piss off not just Isaacson, but his own friend James Ferdinand Morton, both of whom wrote responses attacking Lovecraft's racism. He knew people thought he was racist, as he'd been called out multiple times and even his wife had pleaded with him to reconsider his beliefs- Lovecraft just chose to be an intolerant jerk.



Probably real Lovecraft titles.

Luckily for us, many talented creators have taken concepts in Lovecraft's writing and used it to create their own works, so fans can still enjoy Yog-Sothoth, the Deep Ones, and the horrors of forbidden knowledge driving men to madness- without all the bigotry. The Ballad of Black Tom is one of these works, a retelling of  Lovecraft's incredibly racist The Horror at Red Hook from the point of view of a black man living in Harlem.

For those not familiar with Lovecraft's original short story, The Horror at Red Hook follows police detective Thomas Malone and his pursuit of forbidden knowledge in the immigrant neighborhood of Red Hook, Brooklyn, or as Lovecraft describes it "a maze of hybrid squalor". Because the only religions in Lovecraft's world are either good, Anglo-Saxon Christianity or evil, bad, demon worship, all the brown people are apparently involved with the occult.  Malone is put on a case involving the wealthy and eccentric recluse, Robert Suydam because his relatives want the old man declared mentally unfit so they can have his money. During the course of the investigation Malone discovers that Suydam has been spending time with illegal immigrants and foreigners, which obviously means he's doing something super evil, like sacrificing white babies to tentacle-faced monsters, because Lovecraft is racist and Malone is an awful detective. Suydam continues to do suspicious things, in Malone's opinion anyway, like lose weight, work on his personal grooming, and get married. Eventually the whole thing cumulates in a police raid in Redhook, where Malone finds a bunch of creepy shit in Suydam's basement flat which causes the police detective to lose his sanity points and pass out from sheer terror. Afterwards we discover that the buildings collapsed, killing almost everyone except Malone, who is left with PTSD and batophobia. The rest of the story is just Lovecraft whining about immigrants "ruining" New York and reads like the antiquated 8,000 word equivalent of a Trump tweet. It's not one of his better stories. So it's kind of a miracle that LaValle not only manages to write a version of The Horror at Red Hook that's not just a commentary on racism, but is actually good, while still keeping all the creepiness, mind-fuckery, characters, and plot of the original. Suydam and Thomas Malone both appear as major characters in The Ballad of Black Tom, Malone serving as a deuteragonist for the second half of the story, while Suydam introduces Tommy Tester, the book's protagonist, to the occult. There are other hidden references to Lovecraft lore throughout the book. The title, Black Tom, is an allusion to the cat from The Rats in the Walls whose name was changed from N***** Man to Black Tom when the story was reprinted in Zest magazine in the 1950s. Toward the end Robert LaValle mentions a man from Rhode Island, living in New York, who may be Lovecraft himself.

LaValle defends the minority population living in Harlem and Redhook that Lovecraft so despised by showing them as the every day folks they are, trying to get by with what little they have. Tommy even expresses disappointment after visiting the Victoria Club, when he learns that it's not the den of debauchery and sin he had hoped for, but instead old men playing cards and women selling meals they've made at home. There are criminals, yes, but that's to be expected in any impoverished area, and they're far from a majority of the population. When Tommy discovers Suydam is associating with so many criminals, he's terrified, and it speaks more to the rich, white man's character than the immigrants on New York. What Malone discovers in the basement is also been changed from the original, but to reveal more would ruin the amazing ending of Black Tom. Let's just say LaValle provides his readers with more detail on the horrors the detective discovers, and a much more satisfying ending.

The thing I found the scariest about The Ballad of Black Tom weren't the fictional monstrosities sleeping at the bottom of the see ready to destroy humanity, it was how much LaValle's fictionalized world reminded me of our own. The cops' blatant racism, their harassment of black men who were simply walking down the street, and their willingness to kill at the slightest provocation felt all too familiar, as did the rampant xenophobia and anti-immigration attitudes. The story may be set in the 1920s, but it's clear that some things still haven't changed. Tommy's encounters with the police were enough to give me panic attacks, as I remembered my own family's terrifying encounters with cops. While I'm pale enough to pass as white, most of my extended family isn't, and I grew up with horror stories about what happened to black people stalked, shot, raped, and lynched for merely existing. Tommy has learned what every young black person is still being taught: if the police stop you, appear as non-aggressive as possible, be polite, and put up with whatever harassment the cops dish out or you'll wind up dead. We see this in all his encounters with Malone. Tommy plays dumb, looks downs, and lets them steal his money and insult him to his face without making a comment. At least for the first half of the book.

Tommy Tester starts the story as a good man. He may trick others and take on some not-so-legal work, but he's trying to take care of his disabled father in a world that's against him, so it's not surprising he has to do some questionable things to survive. At least he never actively hurts others and tries to do the right thing when he can, like preventing a witch from getting her hands on forbidden knowledge, which is more than I can say for most of the people Tommy encounters. Racist cops constantly threaten and abuse him, he's harassed by a bunch of white kids just for walking while black, and white society treats him as less than human. Even Robert Suydam, who claims to admire Tommy and gives him a large sum of money to play guitar in his home, is merely using for his own ends. As it turns out, Suydam is a white man who fetishizes POC cultures, while still viewing himself as superior to the same people he claims he wants to help. There's a saying "you can only kick a dog so many times before it bites back" and after being attacked, abused, taunted, stolen from, threatened, and finally losing everything to cold and corrupt law enforcement, Tommy Tester realizes he has nothing left to lose and says "fuck it". And that's how we start the second half of the story, told from Malone's point of view, with Tommy, now calling himself "Black Tom," transforming himself into the most badass, brutal, and terrifying antagonist in order to exact his bloody revenge on Robert Suydam, Thomas Malone, and the xenophobic NYPD. And let me just say, it's immensely satisfying. Gory, but satisfying.

I abhor violence in real life, and obviously don't agree with mass slaughter and abuse, no matter how evil the victims are. The real world is more complicated than just good vs. evil, and violence and revenge just beget more of the same. That said, there's still a violent, pissed off part of me, hurt and furious at the injustice of the world, that wants to see wicked people suffer. Not just get their richly deserved comeuppance, but really, truly suffer in the worst ways imaginable. It's the bitter part of me that relates to all those Saturday morning cartoon villains of my past who just want to destroy everything, because the world is such a terrible, hateful place that it probably deserves it. This vengeful part of me that becomes more and more hateful every time I read the news was immensely satisfied and soothed to watch Black Tom punish a group of racists who resemble 21st century hate groups a little too closely. It's the same anger that motivates Killmonger in the Black Panther film.

But, like I said, these are ugly thoughts I would never actually act on or hope to see happen in real life because I know how wrong they are, and I still hold on to the hope that logic and compassion will win out (so FBI, if you're reading this, I just want to clarify, I'm not actually planning on going on any kind of bloody killing spree). When Tommy, pushed to choose between an eldritch abomination and the hateful people who hurt him again and again, he gives in to revenge and loses part of his humanity, and that's what makes the story so bitter-sweet. Black Tom may have gotten his revenge, but at the cost of being a good man, something he will have to live with for the rest of his life. He's compromised his most important value, being the kind of man his father would be proud of, and can no longer look his best friend in the eye. As satisfying as it is to see horrible people suffer a horrible fate, you can't help but feel bad for Tommy who's left to wonder if it was really worth it. 


The severed human leg actually has nothing to do with why the Feds are here. Though I'm sure my wife is going to ask about that too. Watch what you say on the internet kids!

How I Became a Ghost by Tim Tingle

Formats: Print, digital

Publisher: The Roadrunner Press

Genre: Ghosts/Haunting,  Historic Horror, Werebeast (Were-Panther/Nagual)

Audience: Children

Diversity: American Indian (Choctaw)

Takes Place in: Choctaw Nation, Mississippi, USA

Content Warnings: Animal Death, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Endangerment, Death, Forced Captivity, Illness, Kidnapping, Oppression, Physical Abuse, Racism, Self-Harm, Torture, Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Violence (Highlight to view)

Blurb:

Told in the words of Isaac, a Choctaw boy who does not survive the Trail of Tears, HOW I BECAME A GHOST is a tale of innocence and resilience in the face of tragedy. From the book's opening line, "Maybe you have never read a book written by a ghost before," the reader is put on notice that this is no normal book. Isaac leads a remarkable foursome of Choctaw comrades: a tough-minded teenage girl, a shape-shifting panther boy, a lovable five-year-old ghost who only wants her mom and dad to be happy, and Isaac s talking dog, Jumper. The first in a trilogy, HOW I BECAME A GHOST thinly disguises an important and oft-overlooked piece of history.

I was looking through the kid's section of the library (before I get kicked out for being the creepy adult with no children) when I stumbled upon Tim Tingle's How I Became a Ghost. The title intrigued me, I'm always looking for books by minority authors, and I loved the cover. Then I noticed the fine print: A Choctaw Trail of Tears Story. Tingle's book is not a simple ghost story for kids, but an important work of historical fiction about the horrors of the Indian Removal Act of 1830, which illegally forced the Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek, Seminole, and Cherokee from their homes and resulted in the death of thousands of American Indians.

I decided to draw a background for this picture, and quickly remembered why I hate drawing backgrounds. These are all real children's book covers by the way. I also sneaked in a "Welcome to Night Vale" reference.

How I Became a Ghost is not a "fun" kind of scary story (though there are plenty of humorous moments- more on that later) where you can easily brush away your fear because you know it's a work of pure fiction. The characters in the book may be fictional, but this is still a book based on true events, that caused a great deal of death, suffering, and the loss of ancestral homeland. The first half of the book is based on the real-life experiences of John Carnes, Tingle's great-great-grandfather, who was forced to walk the Trail of Tears along with his family and lost his mother and brother to exposure and disease during their forced relocation. Tingle first recorded his account of Carnes' life in the short story Trail of Tears for his anthology book, Walking the Choctaw Road, and would later use it as inspiration for writing How I Became a Ghost.

Tingle doesn't shy away from descriptions of the Choctaw people cutting their flesh in mourning, being burned alive in their homes, dying from small pox infected blankets, and of course, children dying. Pretty rough stuff, but I think kids can handle it, Tingle does a great job of educating his audience about the Trail of Tears, while still keeping the content age appropriate. And as Shelley A. Welch, an Eastern Cherokee woman, wrote in her guest post for the blog American Indians in Children's Literature:  "Some teachers will say that historical realities are too heavy for young children. Actually, it seems to be the adults that shy away from those topics .... who don’t seem to want to let go of American myths of ‘friendship and good will’ between the first settlers and the Indigenous people, a People who were once the majority and are now the smallest minority.... I can say that when children are told that one group bullied another, they are quite amazing peacemakers, acknowledging the breach of civil rights and offering cooperative resolutions. It is true, elementary-aged students aren’t developmentally ready for the specifics of genocide, but they can understand the inhumanity of racism. " In other words, this book is loads better for children than all those Thanksgiving stories that propagate the lie of the "smiling (Wampanoag) Indian". For kids who would prefer a non-fictional account of the Trail of Tears, there's also Joseph Bruchac's (author of Skeleton Man) children's book that he wrote for the Step-Into-Reading series. But I think there's something to be gained from reading a more personal (albeit fictional) account when learning about history. How I Became a Ghost also educates readers about Choctaw (Chahta) culture, spirituality, vocabulary, and even has a ghostly cameo from Chief Pushmataha.

How I Became a Ghost is posthumously narrated by a ten-year-old Choctaw boy named Isaac. Isaac frequently brings up his impending death, so you spend the first two thirds of the story on edge, wondering when his time will come. At first, he's plagued by visions of other Choctaw people dying, but eventually Isaac comes to terms with his own mortality and seems to accept it, though he does worry about how his family will react. I guess when you're surrounded by death and you know the end is coming you start to feel pretty chill about the whole thing. There are plenty of scary moments for horror lovers, a teenage girl being abused by soldiers then hiding in the bonepickers' wagon, under a pile of bloody bones, stands out in particular.

For a story that's written so simply (to make it easy for young readers) How I Became a Ghost leaves quite the impact.  Something about the plain, straightforward way Isaac describes the trail of bloody footprints he leaves behind or the parents carrying their dead child really stays with you. Not everything is dark and depressing however, Tingle adds plenty of humor and hope to his book, like Isaac's father pretending to be a snow monster and playfully chasing his sons, the other family they befriend on the Trail of Tears, and one of the Choctaw elders teasing Isaac for his clumsiness as a ghost. As a bonus, these scenes also shatter the myth of the "humorless, serious Indian" that's frequently perpetuated by Euro-American media. I never felt like I was reading a "sad" story, more a story of survival. The ending of Isaac's life, while tragic, is not the end of his spirit, and he continues to help and guide his friends and family as a ghost. When he dies, Isaac is cheerfully welcomed into the afterlife by the other spirits (shilombish) who continue to watch over their loved ones. Like the Choctaw Nation, Isaac continues to persevere, albeit in a different form, despite all he has suffered and lost.

I do have a few nitpicks, because of course I do, but they're all pretty minor. Isaac's cause of death felt like a really odd choice to me. *Spoilers* He's killed by a wolf, even though wolves killing humans are extremely rare, and even then almost always carried out by a pack of wolves rather than a lone individual. In other words, Isaac would have had a greater chance of being killed by a lightning strike than a wolf attack. So why not have him die another, less improbable way? *End Spoilers* The whole thing seemed random and highly unlikely, though Tingle may have just chosen to take artistic license for the sake of the plot. Isacc's dog, Jumper, also confused me. He seemed to be able to speak, but it wasn't clear if Jumper could actually talk, or if Isaac just imagined his responses, like I do with my cats (don't judge me). I think it's the latter, since no one else appears to be able to "hear" Jumper, but it's never really explained. So, there's just this random talking dog that doesn't really serve a purpose story-wise except to be adorable (not that I'm going to complain about a good dog, dogs make everything better).

Cats are jerks.

There's also a kind of odd character introduction halfway through the story, with the appearance of Joseph the were-panther. Apparently, Isaac already knows Joseph from his village, it's just that no one bothered to mention his existence or wonder where he was prior to that point in the story, not even his own grandparents who were introduced in the first few chapters. Well, I guess it's nice that this guy we had absolutely no knowledge of previously managed to survive? It's also odd that Joseph turns into a black panther, and not a cougar (which is also known as a panther), a large cat that's native to North America. At first I assumed the black panther on the cover was a stylistic choice, until Tingle describes Joseph's feline form as having a black coat. Melanistic color variants only occur in leopards and jaguars, not cougars, and jaguars wouldn't be found so far north. They do sometimes wander into New Mexico and Arizona, and there were even reports of jaguars in California during the 1800s (leopards are located on an entirely different continent), but having one appear in Mississippi seemed unlikely. At first I thought Joseph might be half Aztec or Olmec, since Tingle doesn't reveal anything about his parents and both Indigenous groups have stories about people who can turn into jaguars. But it's also likely that black, shape-shifting cougars are a part of Choctaw theology that I'm just not familiar with. Black panthers also make appearances in Tim Tingle's House of Purple Cedar and Caleb, the latter of his works, also about a shape-shifting boy. I did try to do some further research into the matter, but with all the false information out there regarding American Indian beliefs, spirituality, and legends I wasn't able to come up with much. There also seem to be a lot of legends in Mississippi about black panthers. Who knows? 

Sorry, I went off on a weird tangent there...

I get really caught up on weird details, you'd think I'd be more concerned about the panther reading over my shoulder, but nope.

The writing may feel a little childish for adults and older readers, and not necessarily something I'd recommend for people in that age group (instead I'd suggest Tingle's original Trail of Tears story, which is similar to How I Became a Ghost, but aimed at older readers and non-fictional), but kids will definitely get a kick out of the story and the epic rescue mission staged by Issac and his panther friend, and it will hopefully pique their interest in history and the Choctaw Nation. I know I'll certainly be interested in checking out the sequel, When A Ghost Talks, Listen, when it's released.

After the People Lights Have Gone Off by Stephen Graham Jones



Formats - Print, digital

Publisher: Dark House Press

Genre:  Monster, Paranormal, Demon, Werewolf, Zombie, Killer/Slasher, Romance, Ghosts/Haunting, Sci-Fi Horror, Psychological Horror, Vampire
Audience: Adult

Tags: American Indian (Blackfoot/Niitsitapi), Queer (Gay Men), Disability (Paraplegic)

Takes Place in: US

Content Warnings: Animal Death, Child Endangerment, Child Death, Gore, Violence, Death, Torture, Homophobia, Self-Harm, Implied Sexual Assault (Highlight to view)
Blurb:

The fifteen stories in After the People Lights Have Gone Off by Stephen Graham Jones explore the horrors and fears of the supernatural and the everyday. Included are two original stories, several rarities and out of print narratives, as well as a few "best of the year" inclusions. In "Thirteen," horrors lurk behind the flickering images on the big screen. "Welcome to the Reptile House" reveals the secrets that hide in our flesh. In "The Black Sleeve of Destiny," a single sweatshirt leads to unexpectedly dark adventures. And the title story, "After the People Lights Have Gone Off," is anything but your typical haunted house story. With an introduction by Edgar Award winner Joe R. Lansdale, and featuring fifteen full-page illustrations by Luke Spooner, After the People Lights Have Gone Off gets under your skin and stays there.

For Native American Heritage Month I’d thought I’d review a collection of short stories by one of horror’s greatest writers, Stephen Graham Jones.


Do you ever find yourself reading this awesome, interesting book, but then you get to the last chapter and go "What the fuck did I just read?" I'm not talking stories with ambiguous endings where it's left open to interpretation, like in Inception where it's unclear whether Cobb is still in a dream or not (and then you spend hours arguing about it on the internet), but the ending still makes sense. No, I'm referring to endings that are downright obfuscating (yay, I have a thesaurus!). Endings where you have to skip back to check if you missed some really obvious clue, only to find that no, the story really does end like that, and then you're left wondering if you're just not smart (or high) enough to "get it". For example, 2001: A Space Odyssey. I know it's this amazing, classic film, but what the hell was up with that giant space baby!?! Did the really obvious metaphor for the birth of humanity just fly over my head or did Kubrick just drop a bunch of LSD? Or both? Seriously WTF? Am I the only person who doesn't get it?



In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have tried watching this movie at 3 AM. 



Well, Stephen Graham Jones is a master of the WTF ending. In some ways this works to his advantage, like when it highlights the confusion and mental instability of the narrator, or preys on the reader's fear of the unknown. Subtle scares can be terrifying when done right, and when Jones gets it right, it works SO WELL, like with Second Chances where the final sentence of the story hits you like a punch in the gut. But Jones makes things too subtle you're left scratching your head and wondering what you're supposed to be scared of. It’s like when the creepy music starts playing in a film, you know you're supposed to feel uneasy because something bad is about to happen, but then, when the final dissonant chord is struck, everything just sort of ends without the payoff of a monster jumping out or even a terrified scream to imply something horrible just happened. Which is, unfortunately, really not that scary. After the People Lights Have Gone Off (the short story, not the book), Uncle, Xebico and Brush Monster all have this problem. Did someone die? Was there a monster? Is the narrator hallucinating? Did anything bad even happen? Am I just not smart enough to get it? It's especially frustrating when the rest of the story makes sense, like in Xebico, but then the ending just kind of goes off the rails. 



I'm pretty sure it's the sketchy looking rabbit.

Of course, none of this makes Jones a bad writer. He's actually incredibly talented, aside from the whole confusing ending thing which is probably due more to me being obtuse than a lack of skill on Jones' part. Like King, Jones has a real flair for making the mundane fucking terrifying.  For example, The Black Sleeve of Destiny, which is about a Lovecraftian hoodie. That's right, a hoodie. Well, that and some poor kid's mild kleptomania spinning out of control until it becomes a full blown obsession, but mostly the evil hoodie that seems to act as a pocket dimension with a mind of its own. There's also The Spider Box (such a creepy title) about a cardboard fruit box that resurrects the dead.  Somehow Jones managers to cover all the horror staples in his book (demons, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, killers, and zombies) while still making his stories seem fresh and unique. A great example of this is Welcome to the Reptile House, one of the most distinct and creative vampire stories I've ever read. In fact, I didn't even know it was a vampire story when I started reading it, so, uh, sorry for the spoiler. 



Septa Unella shows up any time someone reveals a spoiler. Or at least, she SHOULD.

But not all the stories in this collection are your traditional tales of horror, some could even be considered love stories. Albeit, really messed up, creepy love stories, but love stories nonetheless. One story is even called This is Love. Jones explores different kinds of relationships in his novel, from lovers and devoted spouses, to childhood crushes, to familial love between siblings, parents and children, and even extended family. Snow Monsters is a heartwarming tale about what a parent will sacrifice for their child, but with a supernatural twist. Doc’s Story, explores the bonds of a struggling family, and is one of the most human stories in the collection, ironic since it's about werewolves.  In After the People Lights Have Gone Off (again, the short story, not the collection) and The Dead are Not we see examples of the complete devotion married couples have for each other, even when things get difficult and terrifying. Of course, there are also inversions, like Uncle, which is about a couple that has fallen out of love, and the husband's feelings of guilt for not mourning his wife's death.

Oh, and a little tip, before picking this book up I strongly recommend checking out Stephen King's short story The Man in the Black Suit and H. F. Arnold's The Night Wire (both of which you should read regardless because they're awesome). Why? Well The Spindly Man is a horror story about a book group discussing King's famous horror story (how's that for Inception?), while Xebico is about adapting The Night Wire to the stage. And as cheesy as having a scary short story about another scary short story sounds, they're both pretty awesome, yet another indicator of Jones' talent.

Overall, After the People Lights Have Gone Off (this time I am referring to the book) is an amazing anthology by a talented author, as long as you're okay with stream of consciousness writing and not always understanding what the hell you just read. Or maybe it's just me, and the rest of you will have some deeper understanding of the stories. Jones' work definitely makes me feel like I'm the only one at the party not getting the joke.