brokenmnemonic

Yesterday on a lovely walk through then neighborhood I reached the end of The Last Hour Between Worlds by Melissa Caruso. This is fantasy/action novel, set in a world in “prime” reality, beneath which sits ever-descending “echo” layers of reality. The further down you go, the stranger and more dangerous things get. At a New Year’s party, things get unexpectedly tricky when the entire party is pulled down through the echoes.

Our protagonist is Kembral Thorne, a “hound” whose job is to retrieve people, animals, and other things that are pulled or “fall” into the echoes. This party is Kem’s first step back into society after having her first baby two months earlier.

Of course, when things start going wrong, Kem can’t help but get involved. It’s her job.

I’ll say again, I do love queer lit with adults. YA is great and I’m so happy that teens today have access to so much queer lit, but online queer book recs can skew very YA. Here, Kem is very much someone at least in her thirties—she’s got a baby, she’s reached a senior role in her career, and her concerns reflect this position in her life. While she and her quasi-rival Rika have the sort of skittish interactions you might expect from people who are into each other and unwilling to admit they are into each other, they don’t reach the level of comic avoidance or overwrought drama of teens or young adults.

I liked the ebb and flow of Kem and Rika’s relationship. These are two people who already have history and have kind of already had their big, relationship-ending squabble before we even get to this party, which is fun to unravel over the course of the evening. They have some cute moments, some artificially-amplified angst, but are generally enjoyable.

The worldbuilding here is fine. It’s serviceable for what the novel is doing, but we don’t really get a look at much else outside of the party except when Kem ventures out into the echoes, which becomes increasingly less frequent as they descend. There’s some fun stuff, some spooky stuff, some aesthetic stuff.

The book pushes a little hard on maintaining the status quo when the status quo isn’t that great (I think it could have made this more believable with more discussion, but the book is really more about the action than the political debate) and I did think one character’s fate was a cop-out, especially given the former. Violent change to the system is wrong but we’ll all shrug and smile when this criminal we couldn’t nail down conveniently dies without a trial.

On the whole, I enjoyed this one, but it’s nothing earth-shattering. I put the next book on my TBR though because I do want to see what Rika and Kem get up to next.

Alright, I know it's Monday, but I wrapped up yet another horror novel last night, Gretchen Felker-Martin’s Cuckoo. This book is about a group of kids in 1995 who are sent to a conversion camp, experience The Horrors, and then reunite many years later to have another crack at taking The Horrors down.

First, I have to say the decision to set a horror novel in a conversion camp is kind of galaxy-brained, because it is a place that by design is traumatizing and horrifying. This book will make your skin crawl and your eyes tear up well before the monster enters the scene. There are seven protagonists and they come from all walks of life—gay kids, trans kids, kids from Christian families, kids from Jewish families, white kids, Asian kids, Latino kids, fat kids, mentally ill kids—but they all come from families who were willing to stuff them, sobbing and kicking and begging, into the back of a van and ship them off with a bunch of strangers to be “cured.”

And then there’s the monsters.

Generally I’m not a fan of “body snatcher” kind of horror stories, in the same way I’m not a fan of conspiracy theory stories, but I think it largely works here, because this is what the families want isn’t it? For their problem child to go away for a while and come back a new person, without all those icky traits mom and dad didn’t want. For the teens, watching the queer kids around them succumb to “curing” would feel like a kind of body-snatching—who are you and what have you done with the queer person I knew?

The book is also very gross, and I mean that not pejoratively, but factually. If you have a low tolerance for grossness, this one may not be for you. The monster and its ilk are nasty galore (see minor complaint below) and Felker-Martin does not pull punches about the grossness of human existence, particularly as an angry, horny, repressed teenager in a desperate situation. The characters here puke, piss, make out in public bathrooms, masturbate amidst their sleeping peers, eat pussy during menstruation, and are generally grody in the way teenagers are grody. I think grounding the book in these bodily realities works well given the nature of the horror, which is incredibly personal and physical.

I liked the teens themselves and I felt like they represented a decent spread of attitudes and behaviors from people in circumstances both similar and diverse. They exhibit many of the kinds of irritating and off-putting behaviors you’d expect from a group of young people who’ve already learned they must hide their true selves or be punished for it.

There were a couple of things that didn’t totally land for me though. First, I think the descriptions of the monster(s) are overdone sometimes. Not because it grossed me out too much but because yes okay, we get it, the thing is nasty, it’s ugly, it smells bad, it’s inchoate; can we move on? Also, I never felt like I had a real idea of what the thing(s) looked like, despite all the descriptions.

Second, the book jacket description makes it sound like the majority of the book will be the teens as adults, returning to the horrors they faced when they were young, but two thirds or more of the book is the actual events of the conversion camp. It makes the final third in their adulthood feel somewhat rushed.

However, on the whole, I liked this book and I’d be open to reading more from Felker-Martin. There are so many moments here where you want to hug these kids and take them somewhere safe, and I enjoyed the book’s balance of the power of love with the grim reality of the cost of life.