Format: Hardcover

A mysterious parasitic ailment, a medical institute that isn’t what it seems, and the occupants of an isolated, frost-covered chateau sets the scene for an incredibly unique, ambitious, yet often confusing and disjointed read. I wholeheartedly agree with many other reviews of Hiron Ennes’s debut novel Leech that describe it as being positively weird (that’s a good thing) and unlike anything else within the horror and science fiction genres. With strong initial horror elements that vary from body, medical, and psychological horror (nothing too graphic, at least by my desensitized standards) to light elements of supernatural and monster horror, there are a lot of conceptually great ideas that make Leech a riveting read, at times. Unfortunately more often than not, the execution of these ideas and the narrative presentation severely drags down the enjoyment and cohesion of the story, resulting in a puzzling reading experience and a feeling of missed opportunity. The success of any parasite is proportional to its harmlessness. Some are intelligent; they avoid detection, allowing their carriers to lead healthy lives until obsolescence. Fewer, in brilliant acts of symbiosis, foster dependence in the host. But too many are loudmouths and fools… most parasites cannot think far enough…

What if you stumble across odd coincidences between seemingly unrelated incidents and your brain starts working overtime in the background to try to make sense of these odd occurrences? Random connections abound, that is the concept and world of Terry Miles’s novel Rabbits. Taking place in a realistically and authentically portrayed version of Seattle, Rabbits explores a mysterious hush hush game played in real-time that involves players following strange connections and coincidences that shape and alter the world and reality around them. A self-contained story taking place within the world of a 2017 pseudo-documentary podcast of the same name, no knowledge of the podcast is required to read and understand the novel, though it certainly enhances the read. Conceptually great and full of details and references that will make any internet junkie or video-game geek jump with glee (sorry the pun was too tempting), its actual execution is a bit of a mixed bag and one that many readers may find frustrating or disappointing to read. This is one of those novels that I appreciated the ambition and ideas while finding the actual reading experience less enjoyable. Easily the biggest highlight and strongest element of Rabbits is Terry Miles’s attention…

Continuing my reading journey through Riley Sager’s novels (completely out of order I may add), Final Girls is Sager’s first published thriller though technically not his first written novel as Sager is a nom de plume for Todd Ritter who had previously written a trilogy series and standalone book. The final girl is a common trope in various forms of slasher/horror media but Sager’s novel is an uncommon story that focuses on what happens to that said final girl after they experience one of the most traumatic moments of their life. Final Girls answers that question with Quincy Carpenter, a baking blogger who has put that traumatic event behind her until another mass slaying survivor Sam arrives at her apartment building’s front door. This is my fourth Sager thriller novel that I’ve read and despite it being published years before the other Sager novels, it showcases very similar hallmarks to what people have come to expect from his stories. Unfortunately this novel also has the same drawback as his other works, namely a slow beginning and a well-written, albeit uneventful first half. However like his other works, the strong and intelligent female main characters, twists on familiar narratives and scenarios,…

Taking the reader back to the English countryside through the eyes of a seven year old boy, Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean At the End of the Lane is an intriguing short novel that I’ve heard such strong opinions and feelings about. Part pseudo Grimm fairy tale, part dark fantasy escapism, Gaiman’s story reads almost like a fictional memoir as its unnamed adult narrator recalls a dark and strained period of his childhood. Much like how time bends and distorts events based on how they’re remembered, so too does the story as the narrator is faced with magical and otherworldly beings in the quiet English countryside. Perhaps the hype set too high an expectation or my impression of the book’s direction was misguided from the get-go (the plot was not what I was expecting), but I found myself wanting to like this book a lot more than I actually did. Despite finding the ambition respectable, I often felt mildly frustrated with the plot not connecting and was left feeling like it ultimately didn’t amount to much in the end. The presentation and writing was great but the actual content felt too abstract and random to leave much of an impression for…

The second entry in T. Kingfisher’s Sworn Soldier series, What Feasts At Night is another atmospheric novella that prioritizes its foreboding tone paired with its vaguely historic 19th century setting. Unlike What Moves the Dead which was a modern retelling of the classic short poem the Fall of the House of Usher, What Feasts At Night is an original story set in the overgrown woods of the fictional country of Gallacia involving a local superstition in the area affecting Alex Easton’s inherited hunting lodge. While the general tone is carried over from the first novella, the actual plot felt considerably slower paced and lacked the tense buildup that I previously reviewed and appreciated. The “horror” elements were also quite brief and left me a bit underwhelmed despite the appropriately balanced prose and Easton’s signature sarcastic soldier humor. Carrying over majority of Kingfisher’s original cast characters outside of Edgar Allen Poe’s (with the exception of Dr. Denton who is apparently featured as a main character in the upcoming 3rd novella due to be published next year), What Feasts At Night benefits from all of the exposition and Gallacia world-building that was previously introduced in the first book. I had previously critiqued how the first book’s start felt too slow due…