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Book Review: The Bone Carver (The Night Weaver, Book 2) by Monique Snyman

cover art for The Bone Carver by Monique Snyman

The Bone Carver (The Night Weaver, Book 2) by Monique Snyman

Vesuvian Press, 2020

ISBN-13 : 978-1645480082

Available: Paperback, Kindle edition Bookshop.org   | Amazon.com )

 

The Bone Carver is the sequel to The Night Weaver, a previous Stoker nominee in the YA category. These two factors mean it has a high bar to jump, as the second book in a series usually isn’t able to stand alone.

In The Night Weaver, seventeen-year old Rachel Cleary lives in the isolated New England community of Shadow Grove. She discovers her neighbor across the street, Mrs. Crenshaw, is a guardian protecting the boundary between our world and the fae realm in Shadow Grove. While out with Rachel, Mrs. Crenshaw’s visiting grandson, Dougal, recognizes the Black Annis, a fae creature who feeds on children. With the help of her former boyfriend, Greg, and Dougal, Rachel realizes there is a pattern of children’s disappearances over time that has been covered up by the town council and the sheriff. Complicating this mess is the involvement of a Orion, a drug-dealing fairy prince who has a strange connection with Rachel. She defeats the Night Weaver and saves the children.

The Bone Carver continues Rachel’s story. Reasonably wanting to escape Shadow Grove and go to college, Rachel has studied hard, but unfortunately she has a panic attack during her SATs.  Dougal is now enrolled in school with her, Greg is attempting to make her jealous, Orion has returned to the fae realm, and a creepy new boy, Cam, is following her around. Entering an abandoned part of her high school, she discovers popular girl Mercia, who has epilepsy, having a seizure, and helps her recover. After the seizure is over, Rachel finds a bone carving of Mercia having a seizure.  Later that day, after Mrs. Crenshaw falls and breaks her hip,  Rachel finds another bone carving. Rachel is convinced a “miser fae” called the Bone Carver is causing the accidents. As more people find disturbing bone carvings of themselves, Rachel and Dougal investigate, and find gory evidence of powerful fae magic. They determine that Rachel needs to enter the fae realm to find Orion.

Mercia reveals that she is a witch able to open a dimensional portal to the fae realm, and Rachel goes through, wanders aimlessly, causes a disaster, is kidnapped by Orion’s older brother Nova, the king of the fairies, and finally leaves with Orion to (hopefully) save the day. During her five days in fairyland, things have gotten exponentially worse, with people, including her mother, ending up in the hospital or acting violent or irrational, and the high school in a shambles. Despite her recent desire to flee Shadow Grove, Rachel decides she is willing to die to take the Bone Carver down and save the town.

The Bone Carver is suitably chilling and gruesome and doesn’t stint on body horror. Snyman has a talent for vivid description, as evidenced by Rachel’s visions of the vicious deaths the Bone Carver has inflicted on the girls he’s murdered. The plot around Jenny, Rachel’s mother, was extremely disturbing. There’s a heavy #MeToo, anti-incel message to the book as well, and the scenes between Rachel and Greg, Rachel and Cam, and Rachel and the Bone Carver thoroughly creeped me out.

However, what most impressed me, was the author’s depiction of Mercia. She is a well-developed character: competent, smart, caring, attractive, and popular, and when Greg gets irrational and handsy with Rachel, Mercia has no problem knocking him out. It’s easy to write a character who is living with epilepsy as an invalid or pitiful and in need of rescue, but Mercia is never written that way or treated like one by other characters. Although she comes from a family of witches (and it irritated me that her epilepsy was magically caused) she isn’t effortlessly “magical”, and she isn’t suddenly “cured” at the end of the story. In fact, her seizures aren’t quite under control, and she needs medication to help. As someone living with epilepsy I can tell you that this is a character type I have NEVER seen in any book depicting someone living with epilepsy in any age group or genre, and it was absolutely a pleasure to read this.

Unfortunately, Mercia is one of the few characters that actually did have character development and purpose in the book. Dougal and Mrs. Crenshaw are out of the picture for a majority of the book, Greg is essentially a plot device, and after all the to-do about going to the fae realm and bringing back Orion, I question whether he was useful enough to justify Rachel’s disappearing for five days while everything fell to pieces. There’s a huge reveal at the end of the book, so I assume he’ll be more involved in book three. While a nice addition to the series, though, The Bone Carver really cannot stand alone as a novel, and doesn’t hold together as well as the first book. For its depiction of a character living with epilepsy, however, I highly recommend it.

 

Contains: body horror, gore, violence, sexual assault, mentions of self-harm and suicide.

 

Reviewed by Kirsten Kowalewski

 

Editor’s note: The Bone Carver (Shadow Grove, Vol. #2) is a nominee on the final ballot for the Bram Stoker Award in the category of Superior Achievement in a Young Adult Novel.

 

Book Review: The Cuckoo Girls by Patricia Lillie

cover art for The Cuckoo Girls by Patricia Lillie

The Cuckoo Girls by Patricia Lillie  ( Bookshop.org | Amazon.com )

Trepidatio Publishing, 2020

ISBN-13 : 978-1950305247

Available: Paperback

 

The Cuckoo Girls is a collection of eighteen stories (three are “drabbles” and counted as one in the table of contents), eight of which are original to the collection, and includes “Abby”, a story narrated by the mother of an autistic teenage girl that appears to be an early version of the beginnings of  Lillie’s debut novel The Ceiling Man (I wish she had mentioned this in her story notes as I was not familiar with the novel). I’m glad Lillie expanded the story as the novel apparently includes Abby’s point of view, something I felt was really missing here.  In stories like “That’s What Friends Are For”, about a woman who grew up in a haunted house where she made friends with the ghosts,  and “Mother Sylvia”, which is told from the point of view of the witch in Hansel and Gretel, Lillie shows the imagination to re-vision and reverse familiar schemas, so it appears that in “Abby”, she just needed more space to express that. It’s an eerie and disquieting story as it is.

 

Doppelgangers, twins, parasites, and children gone wrong populate Patricia Lillie’s stories, from her surreal “The Cuckoo Girls” and  “In Loco Parentis”, to those, like “Mother Sylvia” and “The Robber Bridegroom” clearly based on fairy tales, and those mystical but grounded in fact, like “Notes on the Events Leading Up to the Mysterious Disappearance of Miss Lotte Clemens” ,  a fascinating story based on actual newspaper accounts. Other stories are brief but clever, such as “Laundry Lady” and “Three Drabbles Brought to You By the Letter E”, and there is commentary on the tragedies that can be caused by small town “togetherness” in “And One For Azazel (With Jellybeans), a Bradbury-esque tale about a little girl who is blamed for causing the colors of things in her town to change, and “Wishing You The Best Year Ever” about a family held responsible for the fate of a town’s star baseball team.

 

This is an enjoyable and imaginative, if uneven, collection of insightful, quiet, and disquieting, stories about women and girls trapped by circumstance, family, society, and themselves, that leaves me intrigued enough to look into Lillie’s novel. Having now seen the difference between “Abby” and the first few chapters of The Ceiling Man, I would say she’s grown significiantly as a writer and is one to watch for in the future. Recommended.

 

Contains: mention of suicide, mild gore, violence, dismemberment, body horror

Reviewed by Kirsten Kowalewski

 

Editor’s note: The Cuckoo Girls is a nominee appearing on the final ballot for this year’s Bram Stoker Award in the category of Superior Achievement in a Short Story Collection. 

 

 

Book Review: The Girl Who Builds Monsters by Brian James Freeman, illustrated by Vincent Chong

cover art for The Girl Who Builds Monsters by Brian James Freeman, illustrated by VIncent Chong

Bookshop.org  |  Amazon.com )

The Girl Who Builds Monsters by Brian James Freeman, illustrated by Vincent Chong

Cemetery Dance, 2020

ISBN-13 : 978-1587677656

Available: Hardcover

 

Emma is lonely. The kids in town think she is a monster because of the birthmark on her face. She lives with her  grandfather, who owns a doll factory where he designs and manufactures beautiful dolls, with perfect faces and bodies, for sale. One day, Emma finds a room of rejected and damaged machinery and doll parts, and starts to create dolls herself. They are imperfect, even monstrous, but Emma loves them, and takes them home, where she already has beautiful dolls her grandfather has made for her. At night, when Emma is asleep, all the dolls come alive. Unlike the kids in town, the perfect dolls welcome the monster dolls, and they all play together happily. The monster dolls are more adventurous and confident than the perfect dolls, though, and when robbers break into the house one night, the monster dolls come up with a plan to trap the thieves and protect Emma and her grandfather. Knowing they are supposed to keep their nighttime activites secret, the monster dolls charge the thieves, terrifying them into falling through a trapdoor in the hallway floor and saving the day. Looking monstrous on the outside doesn’t stop them from either being loved or acting out of love. On its own, it’s a sweet little story.

However, Vincent Chong’s illustrations really up the creepiness factor. It’s one thing to write about dolls, and another to draw them. I saw some aspects in the illustration, design, and use of font in the book that reminded me a bit of some of Dave McKean’s illustrations in The Wolves in the Walls. The people in the book are not realistically depicted, but the dolls seem much more real.  In sharing this book with my daughter, the absolutely creepiest moment for her was the two-page spread of the brightly drawn automated doll assembly line (although the monster dolls’ nighttime attack on the thieves was a close second), so it’s likely that the dolls’ uncanny nature may cause unease in some children, Emma herself is an adorable, if mostly sad, little girl. Chong shades her birthmark in while not letting it define her face or personality, and it is really wonderful to see her imagination at work as she takes ownership of turning damaged pieces into imperfect dolls that she can relate to. In Chong’s illustration of the dolls seen through Emma’s eyes, the monster dolls don’t seem monstrous.

For me, one of the things that makes this an absolutely outstanding book and a choice I would recommend for anyone working with elementary aged children is that it is one of the few picture books out there that depict disability in a positive and respectful way. Too often picture books about disabled people are educational texts describing a child’s disability for abled peers, and in the few fictional picture books, disabled people are rarely depicted as multifaceted individuals with positive characteristics. In fiction in general, disabled people are usually presented stereotypically, as either someone to feel sorry for (like Beth in Little Women), someone inspirational (think Auggie from Wonder), someone with “magical” abilities (Charles Xavier of the X-Men), or a villain. In horror in particular, villainy is frequently signified by disfigurement or masking (some of the classics in horror fiction include the Phantom of the Opera, the Invisible Man, and Dorian Gray ).  Brian James Freeman has done a great job at subverting the trope of disability and disfigurement as villainous and monstrous, and celebrating imperfection, and it’s really exciting to see this. Highly recommended for grades K+.