Tag Archives: abuse

A Very Queer Gothic Ghost Story: The Narrow by Kate Alice Marshall

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the cover of The Narrow

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When I got a promotional email about this book, I asked the publisher if there was a queer main character, because I couldn’t tell from the description. It’s funny that I had to clarify, because this is a very queer book: the main character is bisexual, there’s an F/F romance, and there are several queer side characters. It’s a bit tricky to discuss without spoiling anything, but you can be assured of that.

This is a contemporary YA gothic with elements of dark academia. Eden goes to Atwood boarding school to escape from her unstable and sometimes dangerous home life. Her parents just spent so much money on their brother’s legal fees, though, that there’s nothing left for tuition. The school offers her a solution: she can stay tuition-free if she agrees to be Delphine’s companion.

Delphine was once Eden’s roommate. Then, one night, Eden and her best friend jumped the Narrow—a river running by the school that’s claimed many lives. The two of them landed safely on the other side, but Delphine, who had followed behind them, fell in. No one survives falling into the river, but by the time Eden returns to her room, Delphine has returned, soaking wet but otherwise apparently unharmed. Except, Delphine is different now. She lives in a building on Atwood grounds, completely isolated. She gets ill if a drop of unfiltered water touches her.

So, every year, her parents pay the tuition of a girl who will be her companion. They decontaminate themselves on the way in and keep Delphine company, staying there at night. Eden isn’t eager to take the offer—she’s never talked to Delphine about what happened that night—but she has no other options, so she takes the deal. Soon, she finds ominous notes left from the last companion, who was taken off campus suddenly.

Although their initial interactions are awkward, Eden is intrigued by Delphine. She’s not quite the girl she knew before. Her isolation has made her blunt, with a different perspective on things. Eden is surprised to find herself falling for her. And as she does, she is determined to figure out what’s really plaguing Eden, because it’s not medical—and it seems to be coming for her, too.

Eden and Delphine’s dynamic is interesting because Eden has a solid group of friends at school that she loves—but she also lies to them constantly. She doesn’t feel like she can tell them about her home life, or what happened the summer before. That’s why she hides her still-healing injuries and dodges personal questions. Delphine, though, asks Eden to promise not to lie to her: she doesn’t need Eden to like her, but she needs her to be honest about it. Eden finds herself being more vulnerable with this virtual stranger than she can be with her friends.

This friend group is another strength of the story, even though they don’t take centre stage. The three of them are all high achievers in their chosen fields: they’re artists, athletes, and academics. Eden feels like she can’t live up to the standards they set, that she’s an outsider in her own inner circle. Her issues with self-worth are tied up with her home life, and (possibly) depression. As things at Abigail House get more dangerous, she has to decide how much she values her own life.

The element I thought was most interesting in the book is also a spoiler, though. (Highlight to read:) If there’s anything better than a sapphic ghost story, it’s a sapphic ghost story where the ghost is also sapphic! There is an abusive sapphic character, which some readers always object to, but I think since there are 3-4 queer women main characters, it worked for me. (Also, I think it’s worth depicting abusive queer relationships, too. That’s why In the Dream House is so crucial.)

I also thought it was fun to read a ghost story where the ghost is very corporeal. I’m used to gothic ghost stories where the first part of the book, at least, it’s unclear whether the main character is just imagining things, but this ghost is hard to deny.

When I got near the end of the book, I realized there were several possible endings that I would not have appreciated. Luckily, it nailed the landing for me. If you’re a fan of reading YA horror or gothic novels, I highly recommend picking this one up ASAP!

Content warnings: depression, unspecified mental health issues, abuse, violence, discussion of homophobia

Religious Trauma and Queer Awakening: Gay the Pray Away by Natalie Naudus

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Content warnings: homophobia, child abuse, religious abuse, physical abuse

Gay the Pray Away by Natalie Naudus follows Valerie Danners as she begins to understand and live her own truth. Unfortunately for Valerie, the truth of her sexuality is beyond unacceptable to her conservative Christian community, and she may not be able to have herself and her family.

I looked forward to reading this book. It combines two of my interests, sapphic characters and high-control religious groups, and one on count it thrives. The relationship between Riley and Valerie progresses naturally and is beyond adorable. I loved their sweet moments sharing each other’s passions and getting to be carefree teenagers together. Their stolen and cobbled-together dates shine throughout the book, even with a tremor of fear always running through them. I knew from the summary on the back cover that discovery was inevitable.

Which leads into the book’s weaknesses.

First, the blurb tells a majority of the story. In a way, that’s hard to avoid; this is a character-driven book, not plot-heavy. Maybe most readers found the book predictable. Maybe that doesn’t matter. With the character’s arc at the heart of this story and the warmly colored, borderline-idyllic art on the cover, even mildly savvy readers likely guessed the sort of ending this one had in store. I don’t mean that as a criticism. Plenty of queer readers want happy endings and with good reason.

However, the character’s initial perspective deserves analysis. This is supposed to be a book about Valerie deconstructing her faith. I assert that due to several scenes in which she confronts new information and experiences in the light of conservative Christian teachings. That is the book I wanted and the book I came for.

Unfortunately, it is not this book. From her introduction, Valerie does not hold those teachings. She tells us at the start how boring she finds Bible study, how she constantly daydreams during morning prayers. After sneaking a queer book from the library, she holes up in her closet to read it; this closet is set up as her little hideaway. Valerie complains about the rules under which she lives pretty much from the start. This is something that frustrates me because it feels like this fear of making mistakes. It feels like a concern on the part of maybe a writer or editor that Valerie won’t be likable enough if she holds unpopular beliefs. But a lot of people growing up in high-control religious groups genuinely hold beliefs they are raised with, beliefs many of us would deem problematic—they hold, in essence, the beliefs from which Valerie claims to be deconstructing. She is not deconstructing. You cannot deconstruct what was never built.

That is my biggest criticism of this book. Its lack of plot I can excuse. Its predictable ending seems reasonable. But the summary selling this as a deconstruction story, the passages in which Valerie claims to hold beliefs that conflict with what we’re shown prior just long enough for her to change her views? That frustrated me. The intended core of the book serves a context wholly different from the one provided here.

Gay the Pray Away is not a bad book. If you want a sweet romance in dangerous times, this is an excellent choice. My frustration is aimed at the marketing. This isn’t about a girl picking apart the toxic messaging she’s internalized; those scenes could have been removed without altering the story at all. My recommendation would be to go into it aware and keep your expectations reasonable.

Breaking Away from Religious Abuse: Gay the Pray Away by Natalie Naudus

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Natalie Naudus’s debut novel Gay the Pray Away is a young adult romance set in present day, centered around 17 year old Valerie, who is closeted in a very strict religious upbringing (*cough cough* a cult), so if you have childhood religious trauma, mega trigger warnings here.

Valerie Danners—homeschooled since the 3rd grade, when her parents joined “the Institute”—has a love of reading books that aren’t the Bible (discouraged but allowed in moderation) and a serious lack of interest in marriage prospects, much to the dismay of her parents, who believe a woman’s role is to be a wife and mother. Her family’s values are shaped by the “Institute”—essentially a Christian nationalist megachurch whose values are so extreme, they consider even the hardcore Evangelical Christians to be “not Christian enough.”

After stumbling on a queer library book that she just can’t put down, Valerie’s already wavering feelings about her religion are challenged further. Suddenly she’s learning new words like “pansexual,” and reading about characters who express their love without judgment or criticism.

When so-called “troubled teen” Riley, who blasphemously wears pants, has short hair and plans to go to community college, is placed under Valerie’s wing for some ministry and mentorship, Valerie finds her world completely turned upside down. It’s Riley who ends up being the guiding light for Valerie as she comes to terms with her identity. 

Valerie is struggling with a lot of issues, not just her sexuality. Religion has been such a huge part of her life, she’s at odds with how to approach her spirituality outside of her strict upbringing—is there any part worth salvaging? And while at times it seemed Valerie was adapting to her moments of self-discovery and coming to terms with her newly discovered queerness far too quickly, I kept reminding myself that she was already questioning her family’s beliefs and how she fit into their world as the story opened. 

The book includes many heavy themes, and physical and emotional abuse occur both on and off the page, though Naudus softens the edges of this narrative with humor throughout. Tension is high, and I was wringing my hands anxiously during Valerie’s uncomfortable and toxic interactions with both her family and her supposed best friend, a friend who has her own serious issues. As Valerie works through her plan for the future, she remains at odds with wanting her parents’ love and acceptance, despite how they treat her, and that constant questioning makes each decision all the more difficult.  

I found it interesting that there is no exact geographic location mentioned until the end of the story (we only learn the state), which feels intentional on the author’s part. The detail both drives home the point that location is irrelevant, the story could take place anywhere, but it also introduces a sort of underlying feeling of isolation. I especially loved all the wholesome moments spent in the library and its portrayal as a safe space and refuge, not to mention one of the most important characters in the book who never even gets a name: the librarian who looks out for Valerie. 

In the author’s forward, Naudus, who’s also a prolific audiobook narrator, lets us know that she’s writing from experience, and this is exactly the kind of book she would have loved to have found when she was younger.

Content Warnings: Physical and emotional abuse, childhood trauma, religious trauma, homophobia, misogyny, racism, arranged marriage, child abuse

A Sapphic Nova Scotia Gothic: A Sweet Sting of Salt by Rose Sutherland

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I couldn’t tell you why, but I am obsessed with sapphic selkie stories. There are very few of them out there, but I leap on the chance to read any that I stumble upon. Don’t get me wrong: I like sapphic mermaids, too, but there’s something about a sapphic selkie story that hooks me like no other. So it’s not surprise that A Sweet Sting of Salt was one of my most anticipated releases of the year.

This is such an immersive story. It’s a Nova Scotia gothic, and I could feel the spray of waves crashing against rocks as I read it. Sutherland describes this seaside town in loving detail, even as the main character has a less rosy view of it. Jean has been an outsider since she was caught with another woman when she was younger. Her girlfriend was sent away to marry a French man—despite not being able to speak French—to Jean’s heartbreak. Luckily, Jean was taken in by the local midwife, and now she has earned the town’s begrudging respect as an extremely skilled midwife herself.

Helping someone give birth is an everyday occurrence for Jean, but not the way it happens this night. She wakes up to the sound of a woman screaming outside and finds a stranger in labour outdoors in the middle of a storm. She brings Muirin inside and helps her, though Muirin doesn’t speak any English. Jean finds out that Muirin is the wife of her neighbour Tobias, but it’s very strange that Tobias didn’t let her know about the pregnancy, and Muirin is reluctant to go home.

As you’d expect from a gothic, the tension and danger slowly ratchets up over the course of the story. First, we get to see Muirin and Jean become friends as Jean teaches her English and assists with the baby. Jean’s mother committed suicide shortly after she was born, so she’s attentive to new mothers’ mental states, determined to prevent that from happening to any of her charges. Soon, though, she finds herself falling for Muirin in spite of her best efforts not to.

Maybe it’s inevitable in this sort of story, but I was surprised that the main character doesn’t find out that Muirin is a selkie until well into the book. It’s in the marketing, so the reader knows right away. I don’t love having information the main character doesn’t for that long, but that’s a personal preference.

By the end of A Sweet Sting of Salt, I was reminded of Carmen Maria Machado’s “The Husband Stitch.” “The Girl With the Green Ribbon” and “The Selkie Wife” share a similar premise, a women’s horror story: the idea of sacrificing everything for your husband/children and it not being enough. Women are so often expected to be completely subsumed by the role of wife and mother until there’s nothing left that’s just theirs. These feminist retellings make that message shine through, and they show that a truly loving and equitable relationship means being able to keep something for yourself.

I liked the dynamic between the practical to a fault Jean and mysterious, passionate Muirin. Muirin picks up language at an unnatural rate, so they are able to communicate even when they don’t completely share a language. I also appreciated the side characters, including Jean’s mentor midwife and mother figure, who is Indigenous, and a character who is coded autistic. I always appreciate when historical fiction has a diverse cast. We also get to see how Jean’s former girlfriend’s life turned out, which was a pleasant subversion of my expectations.

While I didn’t like knowing the reveal hundreds of pages before the main character did, that was a pretty minor complaint. A Sweet Sting of Salt was an immersive read perfect for fans of queer retellings, folklore, gothics, and seaside settings.

An Emotional Demon Hunter Romance: The Fall That Saved Us by Tamara Jerée

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Tamara Jerée’s The Fall That Saved Us centers around Cassiel, a former demon hunter who has left her abusive family behind in favor of a quiet life in a little bookshop she now runs. When a succubus named Avitue shows up one day, the two fall into a dangerous albeit passionate love affair that threatens both of their places in the world.

Despite such high stakes, this is a deeply personal book. In fact, when I think about this book, the word that jumps to mind is affectionate. This book had so much affection for its characters and their journeys, and it made it so easy for me to share that affection. While this book felt really heavy at the beginning, due to all of the religious trauma Cassiel was working through (and boy does this book do religious trauma really well!), by the end I was left feeling lighter. The relationships certainly helped with that, but even more so was the book’s emphasis on being kind, both to yourself and to others.

As for the relationships, I don’t only mean the romantic relationship between Cassiel and Avitue, though of course that is the main one. Cassiel’s friendship with her neighbor Ana, a witch who runs a nearby cafe and who gently but firmly encourages Cassiel to open up about her past when she’s ready, was a particular light. Likewise, the more complicated relationship with Zuriel, the sister who stayed behind, will likely resonate with many readers who come from difficult family situations.

Something I really appreciated with Cassiel and Avitue’s romance was the honesty. With a setup like this one, I find I expect a lot of secrecy and drama of the “how can I trust you!” variety. To my delight, however, Avitue was clear almost from the beginning about who she was, why she was here, and what each of them was risking by being together. This allowed the focus to remain on the actual building of a relationship, and it also made room for much more interesting conversations about how people deserve to be treated and what kind of future there is for a mostly-mortal and an immortal demon.

The only criticism I had was the pacing felt a bit off at the beginning, almost like things were being skipped over or time was moving weirdly or something I could never quite put my finger on. However, I didn’t notice that as an issue in the second half. While some might say the final conflict wrapped up rather quickly, that’s a feature for me rather than a bug, and honestly, I do think that choice ultimately served the book better as a whole. This is very much a character-driven book, and a drawn-out battle would almost feel like a detraction from a story that should center on Cassiel’s internal journey.

I am certainly planning on checking out Tamara Jerée’s next book, and if they ever wrote another book in this world (maybe about Zuriel and/or Ana), I would read it without hesitation. Though I would suggest  taking care if one struggles with religious themes, I heartily recommend Tamara Jerée’s The Fall That Saved Us.

Gothic Horror Infused with Queer Rage: Grey Dog by Elliott Gish 

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Elliott Gish’s debut queer Gothic novel, Grey Dog (ECW Press, 2024), is one of my most anticipated releases of the year. Intense, foreboding, and atmospheric, Grey Dog is the latest in queer horror, and it’s a must-read!

Set in 1901, the novel is structured as the diary of Ada Byrd, a spinster and schoolteacher, who arrives in the isolated small town of Lowry Bridge under a cloud of misery after things went awry at her last post. Starting afresh with new students, Ada explores the surrounding woods and makes new friends who know nothing of her past. Slowly, Ada begins to hope for a future at Lowry Bridge and a place in the community. Maybe, in this new place, Ada can leave her past behind. 

Slowly, however, strange events begin to take place: a swarm of dying crickets, a self-mutilating rabbit, a malformed faun. Ada believes that something disturbing and inhuman lurks in the woods, pursuing her from afar and presenting her with these offerings—offerings that both repel and intrigue her. As the creature she calls ‘Grey Dog’ encroaches, Ada’s sense of reality blurs and her past returns to haunt her as she confronts the rage simmering inside her. 

I hesitate to say more without giving the plot away! One of the charms of this novel is its suspense and mystery, which quickly gives way to horror in the second half of the novel. Gish has the incredible ability to generate a sense of fear and danger in even the most seemingly innocuous moments. By structuring Grey Dog as Ada’s diary, the novel is confined to her perspective, which unravels more and more as the text goes on, although there are clues that Ada may not be as honest as the diary form suggests she will be. The reader feels as though they are living in Ada’s head and experiencing the confusing, haunting events of the novel along with her. 

As historical fiction, Gish pays close attention to the social and gendered contexts which confine and police Ada throughout the novel. Ultimately, Grey Dog is a book about rage—queer rage and women’s rage—and the pain of emotional and physical abuse. Ada can only repress her anger at the injustices of her life and the lives of those she loves at the hands of those who seek to control her. When the dam finally breaks, the result is both extraordinary and dreadful in equal measure. 

I loved Grey Dog. I could hardly bear to put it down. I’m reading it for the second time this week and it’s just as fantastic as it was the first time. This novel has become a new favourite for me and I look forward to reading Gish’s future work!

Please add Grey Dog to your TBR on Goodreads and follow Elliott Gish on Instagram.

Rachel Friars is a Doctoral Candidate in the Department of English at Queen’s University in Ontario, Canada. Her current research centers on neo-Victorianism and lesbian literature and history. Her work has been published with journals such as Studies in the Novel, The Journal of Neo-Victorian Studies, Queer Studies in Media and Popular Culture, and The Palgrave Handbook of neo-Victorianism.

You can find Rachel on X @RachelMFriars or on Goodreads @Rachel Friars.

A Pressure Cooker of a Childhood: Hiding Out by Tina Alexis Allen

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Usually, I review novels for this blog, ideally young adult or middle grade speculative, and that’s representative of my reading choices. This adult memoir is outside the norm for me. I can’t very well review it as an expert. So take my dabbler’s opinion with a grain of salt when I tell you I found the experience intriguing but somewhat unsatisfying. (I might say the same of life!)

Allen grew up in a Catholic family with twelve siblings, a loving but dependent mother, and a domineering, abusive father. She grew up around secrets and an almost reflexive homophobia. The environment left her vulnerable: to her brothers’ wandering hands and grooming from one of her teachers. It should have been a relief to learn that her father shared her secret and was also gay. Instead, this led to Allen being drawn even deeper into a life of drinks, drugs, and secrets.

In many ways, this is a tough read. Allen endured so much from such a young age, and as a narrator, she doesn’t always acknowledge it. That’s part of reading for an adult audience: no easy answers. I so wanted consequences for the teacher and later the basketball coach who took sexual advantage of this child. None came. It’s a strength of the book not to shy away from the uglier aspects of Allen’s experiences. Life wasn’t easy for her, and this stands as a testament to the pressure cooker of her childhood. If you hesitate over such stories, please know that Tina Alexis Allen is sober now and, by her own account, happy. These are struggles with safe endings.

The mystery of her father’s other life is a fascinating one. He runs a Catholic travel agency. So why does he have multiple secret passports? Why does he stash briefcases filled with cash? Why do foreign customs agents just wave him through?

As a reader, this is where I became frustrated. I read as an alternative to reality. I like dragons and magic and stories where the heroes win even if they had to fight and struggle and bleed for those victories, even if (especially if) they’re flawed, too. So Hiding Out was a weird choice for me. I wanted a more satisfying explanation than I got, but that lack of satisfaction—it’s the truth. Life is messy. This book reflects that.

I don’t mean to be overly critical or suggest this is a bad book. It wasn’t the right book for me. Equally valid? It might be the right book for you.

Content warnings: incest, child sexual abuse, spousal abuse, emotional abuse, drug use, grooming

A Vampire Pandemic: Night’s Edge by Liz Kerin

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Night’s Edge by Liz Kerin isn’t your ordinary vampire book. In this world, vampires are known as Saras: people who are infected with Saratov Syndrome, a brutal pandemic that changes how society functions. You can’t get into a place without first pricking your finger on a scanner meant to identify anyone who is a Sara, and if you go out on your own at night, you’re taking your life into your own hands. Mia is a young woman in her twenties whose mother was turned into a Sara when Mia was a kid, and we follow her as she navigates the codependent, abusive relationship she has with her mother throughout the years.

The best thing going for this book is the world. I was instantly enamored with the concept the moment I started reading, and when things lagged, I stayed because of how interesting I found the Saras. Mia is her mother’s bloodletter. They have a daily ritual: Mia draws her own blood and pours it into her mother’s cup, and that is how her mother gets by without murdering other humans in front of Mia. Treating Saratov Syndrome—treating vampirism—like a pandemic is an inspired idea. I could see the bones of the Covid-19 pandemic shaping the story through curfews, isolation protocols, and an emphasis on people leaving the house at their own risk. As a healthcare worker, this resonated with me and gave the story meaning that I hadn’t expected to find. It’s also such a fresh take on vampires. Saratov Syndrome is probably one of my favorite depictions of vampirism. It’s a disease with no cure. It produces both Saras and people bent on killing them in the name of self-defense. Caffeine, alcohol, and rusted metal become known deterrents to Saras, and you see how the world is changed from our reality in order to make room for that.

The relationship between Mia and her mother is also a high point for Night’s Edge. The book oscillates between present Mia and past Mia, showing us their fraught relationship beginning with her mother’s death/subsequent Sara-turning through where they are now after more than a decade. This is the strongest relationship in the entire book. There’s a love interest, of course—her name is Jade, and she’s everything Mia is not. However, I found myself more intrigued by whatever was going on between Mia and her mom. Throughout the book, you have to watch as Mia slowly figures out that her mother is an abuser, and it hurts when a promise her mother made in the past is broken the next time we switch to the present. When her mother first becomes a Sara, you see her try to avoid hurting Mia for a while, but that soft edge is gone from her in the present. The mother she had before is not the mother she has now. Mia’s life is shaped completely around not exposing her mother’s secret and always being there for her every need or whim. She thinks that she has to spend all of her time protecting her mother from a world that doesn’t understand her the way Mia does. She’s never dated anyone. She doesn’t do anything with her life. She works morning shifts at a bookshop, and she attends to her mom every other moment. This is it. This is Mia.

Then she meets Jade at the coffee shop next door, and her life slowly begins to change. Mia feels an instant spark of connection with Jade. Jade is nice, bright, and seems to feel that same spark for Mia. Their relationship takes shape quickly. Suddenly, Mia is seeing a world outside of her mother’s control. You would think, then, that their relationship would be really interesting. However, Jade is a cardboard cutout of a person. That sounds harsh, I know. She’s supposed to be a stark opposite to Mia, a fun-loving, colorful-eyeliner-wearing, rocker chick who shows Mia what life could be like if she got out from under her mother’s thumb. But that’s all she is. There are no moments of growth for her, no character development, nothing. Jade is the same person at the end of the novel that she is at the beginning of it. While Mia starts to seriously consider and make an effort to leave her mother behind and go with Jade across the country, Jade is just kind of there, an escape plan, a plot device to move Mia’s story forward. Anytime the two interacted, I found myself wishing that Jade would give me something more to hold onto. I wanted Mia to see Jade and figure out what her life could be herself, without Jade telling her what she could do and where she could go. (Spoilers follow) Jade offers to let Mia come with her when she leaves to go on her next adventure, and Mia agrees, following someone else’s plan for her life again. Mia eventually choosing not to go with her is one of the few times Mia makes a decision for herself, and I saw her growing as a character when she did that. She doesn’t make a lot of her own choices, so I cheered for her whenever she did.

All in all, this was an okay read. The end of the story is a bit of a letdown to me (Mia fails to make a decision, and something happens anyway), but other readers might not see it as such. If you want a refreshing take on vampires and codependency, give this a shot! Trigger warnings for: child abuse, blood, death, violence/injury (including domestic violence), and a scene involving active shooters at a musical event.

When We Find Our Bodies in the Cornfield: What Stalks Among Us by Sarah Hollowell

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I don’t know if this book will be for everyone, but it was a perfect read for me.

The premise of this YA horror novel is that two friends get lost in an ever-shifting corn maze, and then they find their own dead bodies in the maze and have to figure out how to avoid the same fate. I love a horror premise like this: we’re thrown into a messed up supernatural situation and have to figure out what’s going on and how to escape without turning on each other. But typically, in a horror book, it takes a while to get there. Not so here! On page one, they’re in the maze. By page nine, they’ve found the body.

Sadie is fat, bisexual, and has ADHD and anxiety. We’re very much inside her head: she ruminates constantly about what the right thing to do or say is. Logan is also bisexual and has ADHD, and they’re both close, but they’ve only been friends for about a year, and she’s worried about driving him away or having him judge her. It doesn’t help that she was recently in an abusive relationship and lost her friendships during it. So she doesn’t let him in—knowing that doing that also pushes him away.

The voice in this novel is so strong: it really does feel like being inside the head of someone with ADHD and anxiety. Often, Sadie struggles to know how to respond to people and imagines a video game-style dialogue tree of what to say next. She is constantly referencing (out loud or just internally) memes and pop culture. The reason I think this might not be for everyone is that all these references seemed pretty millennial to me (“heckin’ windy”, Pirates of the Caribbean, Supernatural, etc), but since I’m a millennial, they were spot on for me. I’m just not sure teens today would relate.

As for the plot, as I mentioned, I loved that we got dropped immediately into the maze. It’s also not one of those in medias res beginnings were we immediately jump back in time and spend five chapters building up to that point; the majority of the book is set in the maze. I wasn’t sure if that would get old, especially since this is nearly 400 pages, but I never got tired of it. The mystery unravels steadily throughout, and the tension keeps building.

It feels weird to call a horror novel heartfelt, but that is what I was left with. I love books with queer friendships, and I appreciated Logan and Sadie reaching out for each other even when it was difficult. Despite being fairly new friend, they clearly care about each other deeply. Also, despite the time loop murders, the supernatural corn maze, and all the other horror elements, this is fundamentally a story about trying to find your self worth after abuse and trauma. And a good part of that happens in community. Major spoiler, highlight to read: I especially enjoyed that they ended up befriending their murderer. The power of friendship! End of spoilers.

I can’t set aside that part of why I loved this book is that I felt Seen. I’m also a fat bisexual with anxiety (who has also been putting off getting assessed for ADHD). I’ve been in an abusive relationship as a young person and had to rebuild my self worth. I could definitely relate to Sadie, especially since I recognized all the references she made. So it’s hard for me to have any objectivity about this story.

Even if you don’t deeply relate to Sadie, though, I think you’ll really enjoy What Stalks Among Us. Despite this not being particularly short, I read it in one day—almost in one sitting. I was completely absorbed in the story, charmed by the characters and their relationships, and invested in figuring out what was happening in this maze. The answer/ending was satisfying, and matched the bigger themes of the story. If you’re looking for a horror book you can marathon read on Halloween, you need to pick this one up.

Healing Through a Haunting: The Fall That Saved Us by Tamara Jerée

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the cover of The Fall That Saved Us

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The author’s content notes, which also apply to this review: “While Cassiel’s story is focused on healing, heavier themes of trauma and shame are explored to give context to the protagonist’s journey. Please consider the major content notes: cutting scars, brief self-harm ideation, discussion of an eating disorder, family emotional abuse, and a manipulative mother. This book contains sexual content and is only intended for adult readers.”

The first time I learned about Tamara Jerée’s The Fall That Saved Us, I was sold. A sapphic paranormal romance with a protagonist who runs a bookstore and heals from trauma? That sounded like the perfect way to ring in October. I’m happy to say that not only did it meet my expectations, but it became a favorite of the year.

Cassiel has cut off ties with her divine family of demon hunters, other than her sister, with whom she now has a complicated relationship. She has spent the last three years living in the ordinary world for the first time, trying to establish a life independent of the oppressive rules of her mother, Gabriel. She runs a bookstore and is friends with Ana, a witch with a coffee shop. Still, she won’t fully open up even to Ana, and she has struggled to integrate into society or unpack her internalized shame, as she was raised to avoid pleasure of any kind.

Though Cassiel is laying low, she attracts the attention of the succubus Avitue, who has been ordered to steal Cassiel’s soul. Avitue haunts Cassiel, attempting seduction through gifts and shared dreams. But by the time the two meet face-to-face, Avitue has realized that Cassiel is more than meets the eye, as someone who has been harmed by her family and is trying to escape the life of a demon hunter. Ordinarily, a confrontation between a succubus and an angel’s descendant ends in violence, but they both exercise restraint. This gives them enough pause that they develop a tentative trust and a less tentative chemistry. When Cassiel’s family gets involved at the same time that Avitue’s superiors apply pressure, they must team up to navigate these threats while also navigating their feelings.      

A whirlwind romance with a succubus pushes Cassiel out of her comfort zone in more ways than one, forcing her to confront the idea that demons are more complex than her family claimed and allowing her to embrace sensuality for the first time. Initially, going against her conditioning makes her recoil. However, Avitue understands that it’s important for Cassiel to push herself toward new ground on her own terms. When she falls, Avitue is there to catch her.                  

As an immortal succubus who fell millennia ago, Avitue is chaotic, morally grey, and distant from humanity. She is electrifyingly charismatic and doesn’t mind wielding this as a tool. However, coming into contact with Cassiel forces her to question her own assumptions about their natures. From the start, Avitue cares for and refuses to hurt Cassiel. Their developing relationship involves all of the negotiation and communication that this sort of dynamic requires, without shying away from the darker aspects of Avitue’s life.  

The theme of healing from trauma, especially religious trauma and familial abuse, stood out to me the most. Cassiel is reclaiming her own body, her own divinity, and her own experience with the world. As she explores all of the things she was denied, she finds that rather than being cut off from her power as her mother had claimed, she is actually growing more fully into herself. The narrative is a celebration of love, warmth, and tenderness, and an indictment of forcing people to sacrifice parts of themselves in order to fit into narrow boxes. 

This book understands that healing is not linear. Cassiel has already spent years living out in the world, but she still hides herself away from it, and she relapses into shame when she experiences attraction, enjoys food, or tries to wear nice clothing. Because she has people who genuinely care about her, she is able to pick herself back up when she falls. Healing may not be a straight path, but time marches onward, and so does she.

As someone who hasn’t read a lot of paranormal romance, the pacing of some books can require adjusted expectations, with characters who’ve only known each other a short time falling in literally eternal love. However, I realize this is a genre convention borne of the combination of high-octane plots and immortal characters, and that this type of story asks for suspension of disbelief. What’s important is that I bought into these particular characters’ dynamic given their circumstances. The story calls for a breathless intensity that the book delivers on. I was also impressed with the layered ending, as the book’s complex conflicts weren’t wrapped up in a tidy bow after one event. 

An additional note that made this nonbinary reader happy: while the synopsis refers to both characters as women, Avitue doesn’t feel a connection with the concept of gender due to her experiences as a succubus. Being nonbinary doesn’t require any specific pronouns or presentation, so I was glad to read about a femme-presenting character who uses she/her pronouns and does not identify with gender.  

The Fall That Saved Us is haunting yet hopeful, with lush writing and aching devotion in every line. If that’s how you’d like to experience your fall, there’s still time to pick this one up before Halloween.

Emory Rose is a lover of the written word, especially all things whimsical, fantastical, and romantic. They regularly participate in National Novel Writing Month as well as NYC Midnight’s fiction writing challenges. They are fueled by sapphic novellas and chocolate.