Book Reviews

The Non-Traditional Vampire (or how I fell in love with an old trope all over again)

            Nothing puts me in the Christmas mood quite like a good story. If that story were to involve horrors beyond your imagination that make reading it uncomfortable, if not make you want to put it down for just a hot minute, well, that’s just a bonus.

            There are two authors that I read who don’t have a single book I haven’t dived head first into without bothering to come up for air, where I am so enthralled in the story that I want nothing more than to be in it in some way. One, as I’m sure you’ve gathered already, is Caroline Kepnes. The other, who ranks above her simply because they have more books/they write my genre, is none other than Joe Hill.

            More on him later.

            Naturally. 😉

Spoiler-Free Synopsis

            Nos4a2 is a clever story about a man named Charles Manx who’s one goal is to take children to Christmas Land, where they can stay young forever and never be sad again. He has a Rolls Royce that takes him and the children away to this magical place where every day is Christmas.

Also, he’s the villain.

Manda Kay (@___mandakay) • Instagram photos and videos

            The hero of the story is Vic McQueen, a hoodlum turned rebel turned mother, who has a mystical vehicle of her own. She had a run-in with Manx when she was a teen, and with some minor alterations to her story for the sake of believability, had him arrested.

            Vic grows up, and so does he, until he ultimately dies in a hospital after being unresponsive for years. She thinks it’s all over, but she couldn’t be more wrong when he shows up—very much alive—at her door for revenge.

            And that’s just the beginning!

Villains are Heroes and Heroes aren’t Heroes

            In the best stories, the villain believes they are fighting for good and everyone else is wrong. This book takes that notion and increases it tenfold.

            Charlie Manx, on the surface, is no hero. He abducts children from their homes, often sentencing their parents to a gruesome death, and he steals their essence to keep him young. He is a master of manipulation.

            HOWEVER

            He loves kids. Not in the gross rape-y way, but genuinely loves them and has what he believes to be their best interest at heart. He sees them in an undesirable situation, whether their parents drink or shoot up or are abusive or neglectful, and wants to save them the only way he knows how: whisking them away to Christmas Land, where sure, they’ll get hooks for teeth and stay innocent in the worst of ways forever, but they will be happy and loved and cared for. There is absolutely no denying that somewhere under all his inhumanity, his heart is in the right place. He just got lost along the way.

            Not making excuses for him, but still.

Now, FIGHT — Photo by Marta Wave on Pexels.com

            Along with that villain whatnots, in the best stories, the heroes are not fucking heroes. Like the villains, they are fucked up on the surface, but under it all, they have a good heart and have the desire and drive to do what is right.

            Vic McQueen is not a great person. Mental breakdown aside, she’s an alcoholic and an absent mother. The list of things she has going against her is far longer than the opposing list for her. Underneath all that, though, she knows what the right thing to do is, and she doesn’t let minor (or some pretty fucking major) setbacks stop her. Vic recognizes Manx for what he is, she acknowledges that yeah, he probably loves those kids to death, but he’s still no bueno.

            This is what I crave in any story, any genre. Characters that are real. They make mistakes, big ones, and they fail and fail and fail again, sometimes epically so. The author unleashes them into the world, and when the rope is out of reach, they don’t suddenly remember their arm can super stretch so they can pull themselves up to safety. The rope is just gone, and it’s just them and the beast, and they know they are going to die, but they plan to put up a fight anyway, and then the fear takes them over and all they can do is stand there and scream as they are torn limb from limb. (Like…none of that happens in this book, but you get what I’m saying, right?)

            No one is good. No one is bad. Everyone is just out to make it to tomorrow and there are always consequences, some that aren’t fair.

            I live for that shit.

Joe Hill: Master of Horror

            I found Joe Hill from watching Horns forever ago. I bought the book, read it, then found out later that he was Stephen King’s son. This discovery both worried and excited me. On one hand, the potential for copycat syndrome. On the other hand, the potential for copycat syndrome. He was fresh, but I was worried he’d try too hard to follow in his father’s footsteps, or that since his family had their foot in the door, his publisher would look at literal shit on the page and make it top the charts because of who his dad is.

            To my delight, that’s not the case.

            Joe Hill has written a handful of books, and there is not one that I haven’t enjoyed. He doesn’t push out a book every year, and I’m okay with that, because I think that the quality shows. In comparison, if I may be so bold as to take a dig at Stephen King, while he is publishing regularly, I haven’t been thrilled with several of them. They aren’t bad books; they just aren’t my favorite.

            Except for The Cell. I didn’t like that one barely at all and almost didn’t finish it.

            That aside, though, he truly is a great writer. He has such a unique take on horror and the images he creates in my mind stay with me (I’m looking at you, Heart-Shaped Box). Nos4a2 wasn’t blood-curdling terror, but the story sure made almost 700 pages go by fast.

            Not to mention, Joe Hill is a chill dude. If you need proof, just look here.

Final Thoughts

            Nos4a2 is an absolute masterpiece. It’s unsettling, hysterical, and heartbreaking all at once. Overall, I give this fun read a solid 10/10. If you like new twists on old tropes (emotion-sucking vampire and magical car helloooo?), you’ll adore this book.

            So now, Void I scream into sometimes, I turn it to you. What’s your favorite trope twist? Let me know below!

            Happy reading!

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Stranger Than You Dreamt It

If you thought I was done gushing about Joe Hill, hooboy were you wrong.  I finally got around to reading Strange Weather, a book composed of four different stories, and I just…

Damn, dude.

That cover art is so bad ass, too – https://www.instagram.com/p/B4svFOOACAP/

Let’s get this started.

So first off, this is my first signed copy of one of his books. It stayed in a curio cabinet where I had the beginnings of a collection going (Stephen King’s End of Watch among the small stack that has since grown). I was not one of the lucky few who had a doodle sketched by his name, but it’s still special to me nevertheless.

And now I need more – https://www.instagram.com/p/B4svZrygVLA/

The book is comprised of four shorts, each one taking place in a different season, and I use season loosely here.  Each has its own tone, its own quasi sort of personality.  It’ll leave you feeling scared of the unknown, then terrified of the world we live in.  It’ll bring you up to the top of the clouds, then plummet you back to the world below without anything to break your fall but the cold, hard ground.

Friends.  I loved this book.

The first story, Snapshot, follows a boy who after a brief altercation, has to watch his back against the man with the weird camera that snaps pictures of the past by sucking up memories. Hill has terror down to an art. I haven’t been so scared to turn the page since I read Heart-Shaped Box, another goodie written by Joe Hill. And god, the ending! A beautiful twist to an otherwise frightening tale.

American productivity would nearly double if everyone were free to work pantsless. Words to live by.

Things take a turn in Loaded, when a terrorist attack isn’t all it appears to be.  It was a total edge-of-your seat thriller where the villains are in the wrong place at the wrong time and the heroes have their own agenda.  The story is not for the faint of heart.  There is no happy ending, but like real life, there will be no happy ending until a solution to mass shootings is found one way or the other.

The third short, Aloft, plays with the question we’ve all had at one point in our lives or another: What if we could walk on clouds?  A young man—unwillingly—finds out that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be after a sky-diving accident.  He’s stuck a few miles in the air, and the only way off this ride is a suicidal jump to the surface.  Freezing, starving, and oh so thirsty, will he have the courage to find a way out?

Rain takes place at the beginning of a dystopian future, where rain falls from the sky as long, sharp crystals that tear families apart—both figuratively and literally.  A young woman’s girlfriend is torn to pieces by the needles right before her eyes, and she is determined not to let the loss break her.  She must find a way to survive this new world and the anarchy around her.

What can I say?  Each story had strong characters that you wanted to either watch succeed or witness their ultimate demise.  The thought-provoking themes forced you to put the book down and process what you just read before moving on to the next.  Some collections of short stories stay with you for a moment before floating on by, out of sight, out of mind.  The collection in Strange Weather, however, stick.  And yeah, it could be because there are only four stories in there, but I take into account that I finished this book almost a month ago before having the time to sit down and write out something other than word vomit (which this probably still is let’s be fair here), and I still remember what I read.  I still remember how each story made me feel.  That’s some good writing there.

All in all, I’d give this collection 10/10.  Snapshot was hands down my favorite; I’m a sucker for supernatural horror.  It was a damn fun ride, and I can’t wait to read his next collection (also sitting in the curio cabinet). 

Have you read Strange Weather?  Which one was your favorite?

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Manda Kay and the Time She Met Joe Hill

God fucking damnit I wish I wasn’t an anxious mess 90% of the time.

Let me back up.

I like to think of myself as a chill person.  Easygoing.  Friendly.  You know the type.  I aspire to be a stoner without the stoning.  Feel me?  And I feel like I am.  It’s just on the outside, though.  I internalize every anxiety I have until it becomes less “chill” and more “complete shut down.”  Just don’t pay attention to what my hands are doing, and I’ll have you fooled.

Introverting at its finest, I suppose?

Fast forward.

I was browsing though Facebook one day only to see that Joe Hill was doing a book tour, and he would be coming to Denver, which is several hops, skips, and jumps away, but definitely doable.  It was going to be for October, so I went through the moral dilemma of taking basically the entire month off work.  But, eventually, as I always do, I got over it and ordered the tickets anyway.

Side note: I totally have a good work ethic, I promise.  I’m just happiest when I’m not there.  😉

Anyway, fast forward a few more, get to Denver with my mama, who is a retired reader, aka she used to read all the time but now she does not unless it’s something I wrote, aka she’s the reason that I read, aka I’m not using “aka” correctly. The point is she went with me even though she was busy, and even though it wasn’t her thing. That’s a good mom right there. I’ll forever be grateful for her.

She’s too good to me

Seating was first come first serve, so we got there a couple hours early to get a good spot.  Then we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Which I was fine with.  She was not so much.  She suffers from a bad back and the world’s smallest bladder.  It’s true.  Check the world record manuals.  I’ll wait.

Actually don’t.  I’m lying.  Probably.  😉

So we wait a bit, she talks to some people near us, and I go into silent and stoic mode, carefully planning in advance what I will say when he signs my book the same way I plan how I order my food in drive-thru.  I absorb the environment.

And go a little bit empty.

About that time, the event is about to start, and my mom jabs me in the side.

“That was him!  He walked right by you!”

“Hmm?”

“That was Joe!”

Cue anxiety.

“Oh my god I didn’t even pay any attention.”

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

“Nope, nope, nope.  I did not.”

So I sit there and can physically feel my eyeballs get huge and dry, and for a while I forget that blinking is a thing. My contacts hated me for it, but at that moment, I didn’t care. And in that moment, I wonder why I do these things to begin with. People in general scare me. People I admire are terrifying. But there’s one of two ways this can go. I can have myself a good old-fashion breakdown right there in the middle of the bookstore. Or I can plant my feet on the ground and white knuckle something until it’s all over.

Anxiety take the wheeeeeeeel

In this case, I hold onto the book like a lifeline.

If it seems overdramatic, it’s because it probably is, but if you have anxiety, it’ll probably seem familiar.

Moving on, though. He comes out and seems just as chill as everyone says he is. He read a bit from a story, then opened the floor for questions. It’s a pretty standard book reading, from what I can tell. Not that I’ve been to a whole lot in my life, but eh, pretty straightforward of a thing. It’ll sound stupid, but I was enamored by him, not just because he’s a great author and someone I look up to, but because he was a real person. He was down to earth and funny and (I imagine) easy to talk to. Super friendly dude.

Always gotta appreciate a guy who shows up in screen print

So, his bit gets done, and it’s time to go up there and get books signed.  Before our row goes up, I look at my mom and inform her that…welp…

“I’m gunna go mute for a bit.”

“What?”

“I’m going to be mute. I’m not going to talk. I’m going to forget how.”

“Starstruck?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe a little?  But mostly nerves making my voice not work.  I’ll just stare and then leave.  Blah.”

“No you won’t.  I’ll go up with you and do the talking for you.”

Ladies and gents, I love my mama. We walked up together, he signed both our books, we got a picture, and went home happy.

He makes us look smol, but rest assure, we are quite tol

Which is partially true.

When my mom talked to him, she told him she wanted him to write something very specific.  He’s on board, he’s chill, he’s like, alright, whatcha got for me?

“I want you to write: To Peggy, wonderful mother of daughter, Amanda, fantastic grandmother to her amazing grandchildren, total mother of the year, and now I’m done writing this and my hand has a cramp.”

And then and then and then

He looked up at her confused.  I looked at her mortified.  And she bust up laughing and tells him she was joking.

“People always ask me what scares me most.”

“People like me,” my mom responds.

I’m not sure if you can fully appreciate the amount of mortified I was here

She got a kick out of the whole thing.  Joe took it like a champ and didn’t roll his eyes.  That’s a win in my book.  ❤

Out of the whole experience, I took away a couple things.  For one, I can’t give up writing.  I’m probably never going to be at the level that he is, but I’m not going to get any better if I don’t keep trying. (Side note: I swear the creative writing stuff is better than the word vomit that happens here.) (For realsies.) (I have some stuff on Amazon if you wanna test me on that.) (Wink wonk.)  For two, I need to get some self confidence and learn how to overcome the weird stage-fright I have.  I swore to my mom that next time, next book signing, I was going to try to ask something during the Q&A, and that I will talk to him, even if it’s forced and awkward small talk, if I ever again get the chance.

BONUS VIDEOS

Book reading
Q&A

Have you ever gone to a Joe Hill event? If so, what did you think? Did you talk to him? Tell me your secrets.

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Roller Coaster…of LOOove

Hey you!  Yeah, you!  Kid, you like roller coasters? 

Ya want some candy? Photo by Daria Obymaha on Pexels.com

Well, then do I got something for you.

Was that a stupid enough of an intro for this?  Probably.  But in all seriousness: Joe Hill.  More importantly, Joe Hill’s short story collection, 20th Century Ghosts.  This book has fifteen stories that range anywhere from terrifying to heartwarming to just plain sad. 

This is why I love Joe Hill.

I feel like the best way to do this is to choose my favorite and least favorite story.  Otherwise this will go on for thousands and thousands of words, and, let’s be real, neither one of us have the time or energy to go through that.  😉

So, Pop Art.  The first sentence begins, “My best friend when I was twelve was inflatable.”  I’m thinking, alright, cool, crazy kid with a blow-up doll, or maybe not even necessarily crazy, but definitely lonely.  An imaginary friend story.  Those are fun.  But that’s when things get interesting and Hill forces me to think outside the box. 

First of all, the inflatable friend isn’t imaginary.  He’s real.  He goes to school, other kids acknowledge him, and he’s able to communicate with others via a whiteboard and some crayons.  Him being inflatable isn’t a metaphor for some kind of ailment or disease or anything like that.  He’s 100% full of air; no organs, no openings (save for the spots where he can take in more air), so no mouth.  If he isn’t careful, he can float away.  His parents are not inflatable.  They are normal everyday humans who eat and talk and function like anyone else.  He is not adopted.  He was just born that way. 

When I accepted this fact, the rest of the story was enjoyable, and rather sad.  The protagonist of the story is kind of an outcast with a bad home life.  His mother is gone and his father doesn’t want much to do with him.  He befriends Art (the inflatable kid) at school when a couple of bullies are after him.  After that day, they hang out at school and at each other’s houses, until the protagonist’s father gets a dog and things get a bit tense at his house, so they instead hang around Art’s house.

I don’t want to give the whole story away because I think you should read it yourself.  It’s funny and sad and heartwarming and frightening all at the same time.  I may or may not have cried at the end of it.  It’s a great story about what a person would be willing to do for their best friend.  Ahhh I love it.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BtrCZlNF3LU/

My Father’s Mask.  Now, I can’t say that I hated this one.  It was good for what it was.  I was tense the whole time I was reading it; the story has an uneasy feel, like there’s something under the surface that it’s not letting on.

The short of it is that a boy named Jack goes with his parents on a trip to this cabin and he doesn’t really want to go.  The mom plays a game with him and makes it out to be an adventure and tells him that he can’t be seen by anyone or else they will come to get him.  The kid is too old for these kinds of games (I believe he’s a teenager?), but he plays along anyway.  Cut to the cabin.  There are a ton of masks laying around and hanging on the walls and just everywhere you look, there’s a mask.  If you thought the parents were acting off before, they really act off now.  They wear a mask, and insist that he wears a mask, too.  There’s almost a taboo sexual feel to the whole thing?  Like, the kid wants to leave the cabin because he wants to let them do their thing without having to be a part of it.  He goes into the woods to gather some wood and gets lost, but he meets a kid who he thought he saw the night before who makes him uneasy, so he runs and hides.  Then he meets two other kids who offer to answer one question if he beats them in a card game with ambiguous rules.

Confused yet?

A lot happens in this story, but it’s all rather vague.  I still don’t know what exactly happened in the cabin, or in the woods, or when he gets back to the cabin.  Everything feels off and uneasy.  The entire time I read this one, I had my head in my hand and my face scrunched up the way, as if screwing myself up would help me understand it better. 

That being said, I liked it.  It scared me, and I had no idea what was going on.  I don’t know if that was purposeful or if I was missing some major plot point, but either way, it fucking worked.  I felt like I was in the woods with Jack, but he left me behind, and several weeks later I still can’t find my way out.

Have you read 20th Century Ghosts?  What was your favorite story in it?  And (more importantly for me anyway) did you understand My Father’s Mask??