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Book Review: Teeth in the Mist by Dawn Kurtagich

Teeth in the Mist by Dawn Kurtagich

Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, 2019

ISBN-13: 978-0316478472

Available: Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition, audiobook, audio CD

Teeth in the Mist tells the stories of three young women, each from a different time period, navigating the terrors of Mill House, a large house located on Devil’s Peak in an isolated part of Wales. Hermione Smith, writing in 1583, is the young wife of John Smith, the original owner of Mill House, who made a Faustian deal with the Devil.  Roan Eddington, living in 1851, is the recently orphaned ward of Dr. Maudley, the eccentric owner of Mill House at that time. Zoey Root, in the present day, is a runaway who inherited occult powers from her father, who went insane after a visit to Mill House, and has gone there looking for answers.

Kurtagich can really write. The gloomy atmosphere and the evil of Mill House and the mountain are described so effectively that the book is an immersive, visual experience. It has a clever design as well: at times, words are placed deliberately on the page in specific locations with different type and sizes to make a particular impact; there are pages that appear to be pieces of old documents and letters; the story is told not just through traditional narrative, but through diary entries, Facebook posts, transcribed recordings and camera footage, flashbacks, and multiple points of view. It’s a lot to balance. While Hermione’s story is not as strong (she’s just not that dynamic a character), Roan’s is dramatic, suspenseful, and terrifying, and Zoey’s has slowly building suspense that ratchets up as it progresses until an abrupt ending. Unfortunately, the ending is abrupt enough that I was left wondering how and why things wrapped up (or were left loose) the way they were. In sum, Teeth in the Mist is a gripping, compelling, violent, creatively designed, and atmospheric Gothic novel, but with a disappointing ending. I picked up this book with only the knowledge that it was on the preliminary ballot for this year’s Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a Young Adult Novel. Although it didn’t make the final ballot, it definitely deserved the additional recognition. It won’t be to everyone’s taste, but for the right kids, it will be a guilty pleasure. Recommended.

Contains: Witchcraft, the occult, body horror, violence, gore, incest, cannibalism, murder, torture, sexual situations

 

Book Review: The Institute by Stephen King (Dueling Review)

 Editor’s note: We previously published a review of The Institute written by Murray Samuelson. This review, by David Simms, takes a second look. 

 

The Institute by Stephen King.

Scribner, 2019

ISBN-13: 978-1982110567

Available: Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition, audiobook, audio CD

 

Reviewing a Stephen King book is always a mixed bag. Love it and people think it’s favoritism, hate it and they believe you are being contrarian. Some of King’s books deserve a tepid review, but even when it’s just an okay book by him, it’s usually better than most other writers. There’s a reason why he’s had over 20 books on the bestseller lists. King knows how to draw people: he understands them, inside and outside their heads, and the minutiae that make up our everyday lives. The Institute is one of his good novels of recent times. While it’s no Salem’s Lot or The Stand, it immerses the reader in the characters’ lives in a story that is successful in everything it attempts.

The plot is relatively simple: Luke Ellis, a talented young boy, is abducted in the middle of the night. His parents murdered, he is shoved into a black SUV and driven to the titular institute where children with telepathy and telekinesis are studied. This may sound similar to Firestarter, but it isn’t: If readers must compare this to another King title, it’s closer to IT than anything else. Luke awakens in the Institute, where he meets a group of other kids who fill him in on what happens in the “front half.” Keep your head down, follow directions, and earn tokens for everything from television to candy to other treats. Mrs. Sigsby is the evil woman who runs the institute with an iron fist. She is quick to dole out punishment to the kids, a true caricature of evil, the only weakness of the novel. The supporting cast of the story is much grayer in nature as the staff within run the gamut from caring to apathetic to downright sadistic. The purpose of the place is nebulous which lends a deft touch to the story. What’s in the “back half?” Is it death or something better? Worse? Once children leave the front half, there is zero communication with them. Only the youngest, Avery, has the skills to sense anything about the others at a high level, and might signal a solution to their captivity. Even Luke, brilliant for his age, is still just a kid at heart. For all of his skills and ability to read people, he’s still a child, stuck in an adult’s psychopathic playground. King is a master at painting kids, and this might be his best effort yet. IT is a masterpiece, but the Losers’ Club was closer to teenagers than true children.

In a side story, a mysterious ex-cop leaves Florida and heads north, only to make a strange decision to divert into a small South Carolina town where he accepts a job as a “knocker.” His assimilation into that community is fascinating, and it is curious to see how the pieces come together.

The final product is both thrilling and touching, frightening and timely.

A welcome addition to the King canon.

Recommended.

 

Reviewed by David Simms

Book Review: Searching for Sycorax: Black Women’s Hauntings of Contemporary Horror by Kinitra D. Brooks

Searching for Sycorax: Black Women’s Hauntings of Contemporary Horror by Kinitra D. Brooks

Rutgers University Press, 2017

ISBN-13: 978-0813584614

Available: Hardcover, paperback

 

In Searching for Sycorax, Kinitra Brooks argues that horror has excluded black women except as an “absent presence” (such as the witch Sycorax from Shakespeare’s The Tempest, who has shaped the characters through her prior actions but does not appear in the play) and must allow black women a space that historically they have not been granted.  Brooks contends that black women characters in horror are constructed problematically to further the character development of other characters, especially white women, through an examination of the characters of Selena from 28 Days Later and Michonne from The Walking Dead. Brooks notes that much critical examination of horror is focused on the experiences of white men and their binaries (white women and black men). Black women, then, are unseen in a great deal of critical horror theory simply because they fall outside these binaries.

Brooks then examines how black feminist literary theorists, in their work to have black women writers included in the canon, have excluded genre fiction and authors (such as Octavia Butler) from critical examination, even though there are horror elements in many classic works of black women’s writing. While black feminist literary theorists have often chosen to examine black women’s writing through the lens of trauma theory or a magical realist framework, Brooks makes an argument for using a critical horror studies approach to black women’s literary works, carving out a place specifically for black women’s genre fiction which she calls “fluid fiction”, using it to explore the works of Nalo Hopkinson. Brooks defines fluid fiction as fiction by black women writers that blurs the boundaries of speculative genres and challenges mainstream genre limitations. It centers black women, reflects the intersections of their oppressions,  and is grounded in African religious practices and folkloric elements.

Brooks then suggests that the flowing nature of black women’s fiction, music, and art, can be used to redefine the horror genre using the framework of “folkloric horror”. Folkloric horror highlights and centers traditional African religions, such as Vodou and Santeria, treating them with respect; includes an acceptance of spirit possession; focuses on a young woman’s spiritual journey and discovery of the self, under the guidance of elders; and celebrates the black spiritual feminine. Many works by black women writers (such as Toni Morrison’s Beloved and Gloria Naylor’s Mama Day) explore horror tropes such as ghosts and curses in the context of the folkloric horror framework.

I have seen a lot of people recently saying that anybody should be able to write from any point of view. Searching for Sycorax argues that black women have a unique view that until recently has not only been unappreciated but has actually been unseen, despite its influence on genre writing. As I’m currently reading a companion collection of short stories I will say that I am finding the stories of black women writers of horror that I have read overall are fresh, genuine, and original in a genre that often depends on tired tropes without challenging them. It is difficult for me to imagine someone else writing them. Since Brooks’ book was initially published there has been work done to make the horror genre more inclusive, but it’s necessary to move beyond the argument that quality work will naturally rise to the top, and make a specific effort to seek out and promote quality work by black women to both widen the audience for horror and bring it to the attention of members of the horror community who may not be aware of it.

This is an academic book and the writing reflects that. Also, because Brooks is wide-ranging in the texts she covers, including some titles that may be more familiar to people in the horror community and some that may be more familiar to black feminist literary critics and readers, it requires some patience and work to read it through and understand (it is not easy to read literary criticism even if you are familiar with the texts being discussed). It is worth the effort to read this, as a continued effort is made for the horror community to grow as an inclusive space. This is an original and thoughtful exploration of a topic that has received little attention; it is the only book I have been able to find that focuses critically on the work of black women writers of horror fiction, and belongs in the collection of any academic library, although I hope it will find a much wider audience. Very much recommended.