A force to be reckoned with, Tanya Huff has been writing books for nearly forty years. I grew up among her worlds, inhaling words and dreaming of places that would welcome me one day. I still have tattered copies of No Quarter (1996) and Summon the Keeper (1998) on my bookshelves. So, it’s not much of a surprise that when I heard she had a new book coming out, I added it to my TBR immediately.
Direct Descendant catapults readers into the story, beginning with a startling scene and working its way backwards to the cozy concept: Cassie is a baker coasting by, content to live an effortless life in the small Canadian town of Lake Argen. It’s utterly idyllic except for (or because of) the townsfolk’s bargain with the Dark, an evil otherworldly entity that keeps the insular town thriving outside of interference, the kind of place outsiders forget as soon as they leave, where children roam around skewering shadows with silver stakes, one that houses Alice, the town’s resident tentacled lake monster.
Everything hums along just fine until one outsider disappears in a horrible way. Even then, the Dark has given Cassie the ability to speak commands that others obey. She tells the authorities not to investigate any further, and that’s that. That is, until the boy’s wealthy relative sends Melanie, an out-of-work English teacher, to investigate. Melanie is gorgeous and intelligent, and of course she wins over the hellhounds. And Cassie.
Some readers have taken issue with the immediacy of the physical attraction between Cassie and Melanie. One particularly pointed critique has been that one of the first things Cassie notices about Melanie is her curves—her breasts and her ass, to be exact. If that’s something that won’t work for you, please take note. Personally, I appreciated the balance struck by the lines directly afterwards: “Her elbows had dimples. I couldn’t see them, I was too far away, but I knew they were there the same way I knew that someday we’d argue over the remote and that she’d tuck cold toes under my legs while we cuddled on the couch.”
The reader may have to suspend their disbelief at how quickly Cassie and Melanie fall for one another… but I was pretty sure I was going to marry my partner after one date, so my high ground here is distressingly underwater. One of my few real gripes was that occasionally I felt like I needed a directory for the townspeople. Oh, and there are spots of occasional unexamined misogyny (not cool, Cassie!), but since she has a growth arc, I’m settled on that point.
Direct Descendant charmed me. The Dark is hilarious and sweetly awkward, (“HAVE THE TWO OF YOU SHARED THE VIVISECTION OF AN ELDRITCH CREATURE BY THE DARK OF THE MOON?”) and I wish readers had gotten to hear more from it. The book will resonate with readers that appreciate humor in the style of Welcome to Night Vale.
Overall, Direct Descendant was a solid read, one that I would recommend for a rainy day with a cup of tea and an oversized blanket. Sure, it could have gone deeper and explored more of the concepts—and I absolutely wanted to hear more from the Dark—but nonetheless, it was built on a fascinating premise and contained an engaging town I wanted to take a stroll through. It read like cozy, enjoyable fluff—like a Tumblr post, and I mean that in the best possible way.
Susanne Salehi (she/they) is a queer Iranian American writer and editor happiest when reading, cross stitching, gardening, or accumulating silly tattoos—they’re particularly proud of the screaming possum. They write queer heroes. More at susannesalehi.com.
Warnings: Eldritch horror, death, gore
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