I finished Bunny yesterday. I read that it was sort of Heathers + The Craft + Frankenstein, but I’d switch out Frankenstein for Fight Club. That’s all I can say about that without super spoiling things.
I would rate this one . I did really like this one despite being super annoyed at the bunnies’ baby talk early on. I listened to the audiobook and read along on my kindle. The narration was on point. She did a really good job of portraying the main character’s state of mind without giving away the twist too early in the story. I think I might have missed some of the nuances without the audio narration. Actually, I think I might not have finished the book.
I would also probably not consider this one horror. Early on it was creepy in a horror/cult sort of way but then it was more a study of mental illness manifesting itself by means of a fantastic story about a young woman making her way through her MFA. And it reads like it was written by an MFA student…comments about “overeducated poverty” and “skins glowing with health insurance”, overly descriptive comparisons (Her voice is the feathery baby voice of children in horror films.), ridiculous vaginal/sexual references that would get a response from other MFAs but make the average reader roll their eyes (The legs of her voice wide open.). Was this book Samantha’s (or the author’s) thesis? I do feel like a big part of this was critique of MFA programs and fancy schools as well.
I borrowed the audiobook version Bunny, by Mona Awad from the library on the Libby app, but you can buy it on Amazon or any major bookseller.
There was a lot that I liked about this book. Every time the main character thought he had figured it out, new info would pop up and he’d be back where he started. And then when the case was considered solved, the reader gets a glimpse at what really happened. But is that what really happened? Or just Andy’s writer brain writing up a more interesting ending? Either way, I find both endings satisfying enough.
I also enjoyed the idea of a mystery book author who lives out a real life mystery and makes all the mistakes he’d never write into his books. There were so many times I found myself saying “Oh, Andy…no….” and the like. Which. Is fun.
That last line cracked me up. Andy doesn’t know when to quit.
⭐️⭐️⭐️.5 stars for me. This was an Amazon First Reads choice recently. If you picked it up because it was free, maybe read it? It’s short and fast paced and pretty good.
The titular Pet Project is an alien species’ attempt at domesticating abducted humans. They call the human pets “tenders” because of their tender skin. The story is told from a Cryptop scientist’s point of view.
There are some things that make it difficult to suspend disbelief enough to make the story make sense. The Cryptops are working under the assumption that the tenders are not sentient and describe them in the way one might describe a dog. The longer the scientist works with his little herd, the more he notices that they seem to have languages and that not all tenders speak the same language. He also notices that they seem to understand him in a way that seems to be more than just reading his body language. They respond to him, sometimes verbally and other times just by doing what he says. What I don’t understand is how these aliens came to Earth and saw everything the tenders had built and how they lived and thought they were not sentient, that they were not people. The scientist seems to ignore how they understand him and each other. I guess acknowledging that they are people would put the breeding program at risk, because at that point they are not pets. They are slaves. Which, from the reader’s perspective, they absolutely are slaves.
Props to the author for writing a story about a human breeding project that doesn’t involve any aliens sexually abusing the human pets. (Not entirely true if you take into account the forced breeding between an unwilling pair, but at least the alien isn’t using them as living fleshlights.) The scientist actually cares about his tenders enough to (eventually) choose their own partners. There are some dark scenes that lead up to that.
When I read what I just wrote, it seems like I hated this book. But I didn’t. I actually liked it quite a bit and will read the rest of the series. I almost wish it was more fleshed out, novella length rather than a short story, because there are details and world/character building missing that left me wanting.
⭐️⭐️⭐️ for me. That’s a lot of words for “I liked it and want more, but I’m conflicted.”
Again with the orc-pricks and buckets of seed and other decidedly unsexy descriptions. Again with the lies upon lies upon lies. Again with men and orcs using wealthy women against each other for personal and political gain. Again with the women who take way too long to find their voices.
Very spicy, but I find most of the scenes lacking. These orc dudes will lick a lass from asshole to vulva but don’t spend any time on the clit. Orc-pricks in the butt without any foreplay/prep. I guess they’re dripping with natural lube? I guess. The spice is fine if you let yourself get caught up in the orc magic and just go along for the ride.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ for me. So why 4 stars? I really enjoyed the storytelling. It’s like a soap opera. It’s ridiculous and dramatic and will have you screaming at the characters when they do or say something dumb. It’s fun, and I’m here for it.
Hidden Pictures, by Jason Rekulak is wildly popular in the book groups on Facebook right now. The waitlist in Libby was super long. Months. I wasn’t sure I’d get to borrow before the Cool Ghouls Book Club group read was over, but the library came through and here we are.
I’m not sure what I expected going into this, but it’s not what I got. It’s was really good, but usually the books I see hyped in Books of Horror are significantly more horrifying. This felt like horror-lite, horror for people who don’t necessarily want to be scared. Which is fine. I enjoyed the book, it just wasn’t what I expected.
This is the story of a recovering addict named Mallory who takes a job as babysitter to a young boy in an affluent neighborhood. She loves everything about the job, the little boy, the parents, her cottage in their back yard. Everything about this job is perfect, up until the little boy’s drawings take a dark turn. He goes from drawing happy images of the family and animals to darker things like a man in a forest dragging a woman behind him and dropping her in a hole in the ground. Not only does the subject of the drawings change, the skill level changes drastically as well. He was drawing stick figures and clouds with smiley faces and suddenly is drawing realistic fully shaded things that make Mallory suspect that something is amiss. She learns of the story of a woman who was murdered in the very cottage she is staying in and naturally assumes the place haunted or the boy is possessed. Mallory thinks she’s figured it out and goes on a quest to find proof to present to the parents, accompanied by her new friend, the gardener. The pair does find the information they were looking for, but it is not the solution they’d hoped for.
There are some things that I felt didn’t really add anything to the story, namely most of the things the neighbor lady says. She rants about liberal parents, rapist Mexicans, atheist know-it-alls, etc. all in her first conversation with Mallory. Is this meant to establish that she’s a bit of a kook like the Maxwells say? Is this the author inserting his own narrative under the guise of character building? Who knows. There’s also the juxtaposition of the main character’s religious beliefs and the Maxwells’ atheism. They are very quick to dismiss Mallory’s concerns and have her convinced that she’s losing it, despite things we learn about them toward the end of the book.
The plot is fairly predictable, even with the twists. But don’t let that dissuade you from reading this book. Even my paragraph of gripes isn’t a huge part of the story. As a know-it-all atheist liberal parent of rapist Mexican descent, I can safely say that while none of that adds much to the story, it doesn’t really detract from it either. I’ve seen some reviews say that certain parts were just not believable, like the one twist about the little boy. How would a babysitter not know, they say. To that, I say that this is a ghost story. Horror. Remember all those old horror movies where you see the teenage girl go outside in her underwear to investigate a scary sound and you’re screaming at the television for her to quit being an idiot? This called suspension of disbelief and is present in nearly every work of fiction, even moreso in horror with supernatural elements. Shit’s not gonna make sense in the real world and that’s okay. Sit back and enjoy the ride.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ for me. Certainly not the scariest book, but it’s well written and engaging and has enough of a twist to not be completely predictable. I would recommend it to people looking to dip their toes into horror but not get too wet. And if you read a lot of darker books, this is a nice palate cleanser.
Unfortunately, I don’t feel like this was executed particularly well. I was bored a quarter of the way through. I know it’s a bit harsh to say that the story of someone’s life is boring, but it didn’t feel like a memoir.
And it barely felt like poetry. This is coming from a person who reads and enjoys a lot of bad poetry. Here’s the thing. Poetry is emotion. I don’t care about the technical aspects of poetry if it doesn’t make me feel things.
This collection isn’t bad, but it is largely forgettable. It’s the type of book an academic library adds to the collection because the author is faculty.
I usually try to share some passages that touched me, but nothing really stood out. Every page is like the title of this book, unnecessarily verbose without leading to a point. It’s the kind of poetry that makes me feel like I’m missing something. Or like maybe I’m not smart enough to get it. That puts me off reading more of this author’s work.
⭐️⭐️ for me. I’m sure there’s an audience for this, but it’s not me. Big thanks to NetGalley & V Press LC, Independent Book Publishers for the ARC.
I didn’t love it, but you might! You can buy The Vital Function of Constant Narrative on Amazon, BN, or Indie Bookstore.
I decided to expose my book group to more Daniel J. Volpe this month. Cool Ghouls hasn’t picked up much steam, but there are a few people who join every time and that’s enough motivation to keep doing it. If I can get one person to read something I like, I’m a happy camper. Speaking of books I liked…
A good chunk of the story is a Holocaust survivor recounting his days at Auschwitz in great horrifying detail. I knew this going into it. I also knew there was a splatter twist that would set it apart from the usual real world horror tales. I’ve read a lot of WWII stories from multiple perspectives. I’ve read first hand accounts of real survivors. I’ve read descriptions of the smells in the camps. But this was the first time I’ve seen the smell of the gas described, and I admit I thought about it when I opened my bottle of almond extract while baking this weekend. Little details like that can turn a generic fictional Holocaust story into something special, something that sticks with the reader. And it’s the big details, like figurative demons (Nazis) capturing literal demons and using them to grant their wishes, that turn a sad story into one that kicks the reader in the teeth. And that ending…wow.
In a way, the ending felt open. Will there be a sequel or spinoff? Who knows, but I know one thing. I’ll read that too.
This is my second Daniel J. Volpe read (Talia was the first). I loved both. I will eventually read my way through his entire catalog. Splatterpunk and indie horror can be a gamble. It’s a genre I enjoy and while most books I’ve read at least have good stories, some could benefit from a little editing finesse. Volpe’s books are just plain good though.
100% picked up this book because I’ve seen Ruby Dixon mention liking the author. This book did not disappoint.
That said, if you are also reading this on the recommendation of the aforementioned author, don’t go into this thinking it will be anything like her work. The orcs of Fenn’s world are not the doting himbos of Dixon’s world. Their happily ever afters are hard earned and require work, compromise, and understanding on both parts to continue into the ever after. While there is a mating bond that makes them want each other, there is no magic that makes them love each other. They have to work at it. They make mistakes. In this book, our hero lies and withholds information, and eventually puts his needs ahead of hers and betrays her. But he is learning and so is she. There is so much to say about that, but I don’t want to spoil it for anyone. There were parts that legit had me crying because I was feeling the characters’ emotions. I am not a cryer.
My main gripe with this book was the use of the word “orc-prick” and emphasis on his seed. Seed pouring from him before the act, seed flooding out afterward, drinking his seed to make the baby strong. I’ll chalk that up to being #justorcthings.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ for me. This was really good. I’m looking forward to finding out what the rest of the series has to offer.
There is so much to say about this book, but I need some time to digest it fully. The story is told through two perspectives of the same person, a ”bad seed” of a child and that child as an adult with a child of her own. It is unlike any story I’ve ever read, and helps the reader imagine what happens to children who kill once they’ve done their time and grown up and get their second chance at life. I kept waiting for some focus on mental health, but it never went there. I really enjoyed watching the story unfold. It seemed very straightforward in the beginning, but as it went on between perspectives, it becomes very clear that it’s much more than a case of just being a bad seed.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ for me. If you like disturbing stories without sexual violence or gore, I highly recommend this one.
Anyone who reads zombies knows that a lot of them are the same. And I love them despite that sameness. But every once in a while you read one that has a little something that makes it stand out. This is one of those books. Not only do we have zombies, we have different levels of zombies. Zombies and what they call half breeds. There is real hope for a cure. There’s demon possession and a haunted house. There is also some zombie sex stuff, which doesn’t come off as erotic, but the imagery sure is vivid. Because this isn’t set in the USA, the survival experience is way different than most zombie books I’ve read. Fewer guns. No redneck survival groups dominating all remaining survivors. No finding huge trucks to plow their way through the zombie hordes. It’s a refreshing new (to me at least) take on zombies.
This volume ends on a cliffhanger. I think even if it hadn’t, I’d still want to continue the series.
You can find The Undead Possession Series and other Justin Boote books on Amazon for the time being, but they are migrating to Godless on September 17 and sold at a discount for the first five days, so pick them up there! I know I will!
Quick note about Godless: you can find tons of books by indie horror authors at low prices there. Godless offers a platform for authors to sell their books without the Amazon royalties trap, which ultimately means more money in author pockets. It also means not having to dance around Amazon censors and having alternate Amazon friendly cover art. I have purchased many books on Godless, and while I am not crazy about not being able to automatically upload my highlights and track my progress on Goodreads because compatibility issues, it is easy enough to load books onto my kindle and read in the way to which I’m accustomed. And I do like knowing that more of the money goes to the authors. Amazon doesn’t need your money.