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Book Review: Clear by Ray Leigh

Clear by Ray Leigh

Bad Press Ink, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-9168845-1-3

Available: Kindle

 

Twenty years ago, writer and then youth worker Ray Leigh saw firsthand the brutal lives of addicts, dealers, prostitutes, and thieves, as well as police and “government men” gone bad, and wrote Clear to capture the dark side of 1990s London. Leigh writes in a style he calls “distilled prose” which seems like a hybrid of a long narrative poem and a screenplay. The text is arranged to cross the length of the page rather than the width, and transitions in the action, dialogue and descriptions are marked by small, black daggers.

 

In a patchwork of quick scenes and character sketches, Clear captures the conflict, violence, dread, and horror in a part of the city that some people only glimpse on the news and that other people actually experience as a nightmare they are trying to get “clear” of but never will. Leigh includes the expected crime and poverty, but he also makes the fragments of story poignantly relatable by incorporating the ordinary parts of the characters’ day, things like what and where they eat or their interaction  with their children. This is a dysfunctional community with its own definitions of life, relationships, and values.

 

Leigh suggests that this work is, in part, a “love story.” That makes sense because there is so much attention paid to the heartbreak, sadness, and disappointment of these people that it is easy to conclude that Leigh knew and cared about them. Clear is so terrifying because there is a certain normalcy to this nightmarish flip-side to typical city living. To fully realize that both the typical and nightmare lives go on simultaneously, each a sort of parallel universe, is chilling and should only be the stuff of science fiction. Recommended.

 

Contains: violence, sex, crude language, adult subject matter

 

Reviewed by Nova Hadley

Book Review: Five Midnights by Ann Davila Cardinal

Five Midnights by Ann Cardinal Davila

Tor Teen, 2019

ISBN-13: 978-1250296078

Available: Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition, and audiobook

“When the U.S. gets a cold, Puerto Rico gets pneumonia.” In the United States, the mainland tends to forget that Puerto Rico is part of the country, and many Puerto Ricans have learned that federal government agencies don’t really want to get involved when disaster hits due to this (witness the travesty of the aftermath of Hurricane Maria). Five Midnights takes place before the hurricane hit, but it is easy to see that mainlanders, mostly white and wealthy, are viewed with suspicion due to their contribution to gentrification, which is driving locals out of even middle class neighborhoods to areas where gangs, drugs and crime are profitable and attractive tp teenagers trying to make it in a struggling economy. It’s no surprise when Vico, a successful teenage drug dealer, dies violently while on his way to a deal, but what only the reader knows is that the death is due to a shadowy, clawed, supernatural creature.

Enter Lupe, a half-Puerto Rican, half-white teenager who has traveled from Vermont to Puerto Rico to spend the summer with her aunt and uncle (who is also the chief of police). Lupe is independent and contrary, and fascinated by crime, an interest her uncle has previously encouraged. The case of the drug dealer touches on a family member, her cousin Izzy, who has disappeared, and her uncle does not want her involved, but that only makes Lupe more determined. Lupe is feminist in a very teenage girl “I can do it myself, don’t you dare help me” kind of way,  an attitude that made an otherwise independent young woman seem like she needed to be rescued (for instance, walking into traffic because it was suggested she wait, and having to be pulled out of the street after nearly getting hit by a car). Her character does grow a lot as she meets a variety of people and experiences parts of Puerto Rico she wouldn’t have seen as a tourist and begins to understand the impact the mainland, and especially mainland investors, are having on the country. Cardinal does a great job in describing pre-Hurricane Maria Puerto Rico. I almost felt like I was there. I want to give her props, too, for her portrayal of adults in the story. YA fiction frequently depicts adults as clueless and closed-minded, but when these teens really needed them, the majority of adults listened, and stepped up, without taking over.

Because Lupe resembles her white mother instead of her Puerto Rican father, she  also gets a lesson in colorism. Although she sees herself as Puerto Rican, the other teens she encounters call her “gringa”, white girl. It’s confusing to her at first, because she identifies as half-Puerto Rican, and can’t understand why no one else understands that. However, she comes to recognize that she does have white privilege and as a mainland American takes some things for granted that many Puerto Ricans cannot. At the same time, the friends she makes come to recognize that there are parts of her that are very Puerto Rican after all, even if they’re not immediately visible.

Our other major character is Javier, who grew up with Vico and Izzy, but kicked his drug habit and is working hard to stay clean and make up for the damage he did while he was involved with drugs. Despite a rocky beginning, Lupe and Javier decide to team up to find Izzy and solve Vico’s murder. They become more and more convinced that El Cuco, a shadowy supernatural creature bent on retribution is after Javier and his friends. It is refreshing to see a monster  grounded in local folklore, appearing in a contemporary story, instead of the same tired tropes.

I loved seeing Puerto Rico take center stage when so often it’s ignored, and enjoyed watching Lupe and Javier puzzle out the mystery and each other. The climax is an outstanding, terrifying, mystical, and visually evocative piece of writing. This was Cardinal’s debut novel, and I look forward to her next one, Category Five, set in post-Hurricane Maria Puerto Rico.  This is a truly Stoker-worthy book. Highly recommended.

 

Contains: violence, murder, mild gore, drug abuse

Editor’s note: Five Midnights was nominated to the final ballot of the 2019 Bram Stoker Award in the category of Superior Achievement in a Young Adult Novel.

Book Review: The Bone Cutters by Renee S. DeCamillis

The Bone Cutters by Renee S. DeCamillis

Eraserhead Press, 2019

ISBN-13: 978-1621052937

Available: Paperback

 

This has been a banner year for introducing stellar new horror writers to the world. Renee S. DeCamillis shows she is one of these with  her novella The Bone Cutters, one of the strangest, but coolest, entries of 2019. Fans of Gwendolyn Kiste or Cody Goodfellow will definitely want to seek this out.

The novella is a wonderful form for horror, giving the reader and author just enough time to grow into the story, fall for the characters, and then leave both with a scar on the soul. DeCamillis’ story touches on elements of the familiar, but makes it her own.

Dory, the main character, wakes up in a mental ward with no idea how she got there, but learns she has been “blue-papered”– committed without consent. In other hands than DeCamillis’, this could have turned out to be just another horror tale in a tired setting, but the story takes a hard left when Dory attends her first group meeting. The people in the group have strange scars signaling that they are  addicts of a new kind. These people are “dusters,” the titular “bone cutters”. who carve into their own– or others’ — bodies, to get high off the dust within. They dig and scrape until they procure enough of the material from the bones to give themselves  a high unknown to other addicts. Because Dory is a “freshie”– a newbie who hasn’t been dusted yet– she becomes their prime target. Dory has nobody to help her until she meets the enigmatic custodian, Tommy, whose past may tie into the patients from whom Dory is trying to escape.

To say more about the plot would give away too much. Just dive in and enjoy.

DeCamillis doesn’t mess around with frills here. Her writing is as razor sharp as the cutting tools the patients use. Not a word is wasted in this lean tale that grabs hold from the get go, and drags the reader through a surreal experience that evokes One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, if written by Clive Barker. The ending arrives way too fast, but it will leave readers jonesing for another hit of this new writer.

A recommended novella to be added to a fine 2019.

 

Reviewed by David Simms