Friday, June 26, 2026

The Bewitching - Silvia Moreno-Garcia

 

About the book

“Back then, when I was a young woman, there were still witches”: That was how Nana Alba always began the stories she told her great-granddaughter Minerva—stories that have stayed with Minerva all her life. Perhaps that’s why Minerva has become a graduate student focused on the history of horror literature and is researching the life of Beatrice Tremblay, an obscure author of macabre tales.

In the course of assembling her thesis, Minerva uncovers information that reveals that Tremblay’s most famous novel,
The Vanishing, was inspired by a true story: Decades earlier, during the Great Depression, Tremblay attended the same university where Minerva is now studying and became obsessed with her beautiful and otherworldly roommate, who then disappeared under mysterious circumstances.

As Minerva descends ever deeper into Tremblay’s manuscript, she begins to sense that the malign force that stalked Tremblay and the missing girl might still walk the halls of the campus. These disturbing events also echo the stories Nana Alba told about her girlhood in 1900s Mexico, where she had a terrifying encounter with a witch.

Minerva suspects that the same shadow that darkened the lives of her great-grandmother and Beatrice Tremblay is now threatening her own in 1990s Massachusetts. An academic career can be a punishing pursuit, but it might turn outright deadly when witchcraft is involved.

368 pages
Published July 15, 2025


The way similar elements in ghost stories pop up all over the world has long fascinated me. Those who come back from the dead, by whatever means, often seem bent on devouring the living in one form or another. We nearly all have stories of the spirits of the departed showing signs that they're not quite gone, even if we can't always see them. The signs we make to ward off evil, the ways that evil can manifest; there are so many overlaps that, while they can sometimes be attributed to cultures meeting and sharing their beliefs, other times just come down to people trying to understand the world they live in and figure out how it all works. Maybe there's something deep in human brains that make us pre-disposed to these folkloric overlaps, I don't know.

These overlaps don't necessarily lie at the core of The Bewitching, but they do play a part. The novel is written over 3 different periods of time. The first, Minerva's chapters, take place in the late 90s, as Minerva struggles with her thesis and tries to dig through the journal of a writer she's studying, the little-known horror author Beatrice Tremblay. In 1908, we see chapters from Minerva's great-grandmother, Nana Alba, and her dealing with a powerful witch who has targeted her family. And in the 1930s, we see entries from Beatrice Tremblay's diary, writing about the incident in her youth that inspired her novel, The Vanishing, one of Minerva's favourite novels and the story that made her really want to study horror fiction to begin with. All of these time periods are essential to understanding the story, all of which contain those overlapping elements that lead Minerva to saving her life and explaining the mystery behind The Vanishing in the first place.

The story being delivered to the reader in small pieces, spread across nearly a century of time and two different countries, is a good way to spread out the mystery of it all, especially because something relevant in one time period might not hold true for the others. As much as cultures have overlaps in their mythologies and folklore, that doesn't mean all have the same beliefs. There are enough red herrings to keep a reader turning pages, but not so many as to lead that reader entirely astray.

That said, the mystery of the witches wasn't particularly well hidden. In Alba's chapters, I ended up with 2 different suspects for the witch, each with what I thought were solid motivations for what they were doing, and once one suspect was eliminated, there was no more mystery at all. I had strong suspicions for the culprit in Beatrice's diary entries, too, which made it easy to figure out who was causing similar events to occur to Minerva herself. 

But I don't read books, even books with a strong sense of mystery, to be surprised by reveals and endings. Even if I guess the Who-Dunnit aspect, I still love seeing how it all comes together, and that was entirely the case with The Bewitching. I didn't want to put it down, and I read nearly all of it in a single day!

Silvia Moreno-Garcia's writing is impeccable, filled with so much fine detail that it was easy to transport myself not only to a time I vividly remember (I was alive in the 90s, old enough to remember the styles and the music and to relate to Hideo's bootleg anime distribution), but to times and places I have no real analog for in my life. Not that I claim to understand what it was like to live in Mexico in the early 1900s, not from a single book, but I fell into the rhythm and style of writing well enough in the parts that were familiar to me to not be thrown out of that groove when I hit sections I haven't personally experienced. To bring these things to life for readers who, at most, would have experienced only 1 of the time periods in The Bewitching, is a skill deserves recognition.

This was my introduction to this author's writing, and if this is a taste of what I can expect from her other novels, then I think she'll end up as a favourite author before too long. Not necessarily the mystery aspects, but the detailed writing that's easy to get lost in, the look into aspects of a culture I know unfortunately little about, and more great stories to fill my bookshelves.

I'm determined to not spoil anything in this review, because I do think it's a novel best appreciated by diving in headfirst and appreciating the dark academia and historical aspects for oneself, rather than reading what one random person on the Internet thinks. But this random person still gives it praise, and highly recommends it, especially to horror and mystery fans who are open to a story that crosses time and cultural boundaries and strikes to the heart of what makes us shiver when the dry leaves whisper and the shadows grow long.

Friday, June 19, 2026

The Raven Tower - Ann Leckie

 

About the book

For centuries, the kingdom of Iraden has been protected by the god known as the Raven. He watches over his territory from atop a tower in the powerful port of Vastai. His will is enacted through the Raven's Lease, a human ruler chosen by the god himself. His magic is sustained via the blood sacrifice that every Lease must offer. And under the Raven's watch, the city flourishes.

But the power of the Raven is weakening. A usurper has claimed the throne. The kingdom borders are tested by invaders who long for the prosperity that Vastai boasts. And they have made their own alliances with other gods.

It is into this unrest that the warrior Eolo--aide to Mawat, the true Lease--arrives. And in seeking to help Mawat reclaim his city, Eolo discovers that the Raven's Tower holds a secret. Its foundations conceal a dark history that has been waiting to reveal itself...and to set in motion a chain of events that could destroy Iraden forever.

465 pages
Published February 26, 2019


I want to start out by saying that Ann Leckie's The Raven Tower gave me something I've been looking years for: a story written in the 2nd person, and written that way well. I've always thought it would be tricky to do well, and I think the author managed to do it in exactly the best way here, by switching viewpoints between the god known as the Strength and Patience of the Hill, and Eolo, the person said god is keeping a close eye on for reasons of its own. It was the perfect setup to write in that way, and I really enjoyed how the two viewpoints were expressed.

As for the story itself, it was rather light on physical descriptions, allowing the reader to fill in the gaps as to what places or people generally looked like. Which that could be a little frustrating at times (I'm a rather visual person and I like to let my mind just go off with a riot of colour and sound and every little thing that could make up a scene), it made sense when you consider that the whole story is told from the point of view of a god who doesn't much give a damn about what the air smells like or the shades people dress themselves in, or any number of details that, really, are inconsequential to the overarching narrative. It made contextual sense, and while it might not have been meticulously detailed, it was without a doubt meticulously crafted.

I really enjoyed seeing things from a god's point of view, if I'm honest. It was a bit of a unique perspective, that of a sentient rock. A rock's eye view of change that came slow and steady, but nevertheless caused untold strife among humans, and even other gods. The Raven of Vastai, a god who gave protection over a city and much of the surrounding land in exchange for the occasional human sacrifice, has a long history, one that stretches back for generations, and one that was rooted in invasion and war. One that the Strength and Patience of the Hill was eventually roped into, lending its strength first to the side that opposed the Raven's takeover, and then being essentially strong-armed into aiding the Raven itself after the opposition had lost.

And something is wrong with the Raven, something that threatens to destabilize the foundations of Vastai, and by association the whole or Iraden. That is why Eolo, and his lord Mawat, who is meant to be the successor to the Raven's Lease (the ultimate human sacrifice to the Raven), arrive in Vastai and are sucked into the mystery of where Mawat's father (the previous Lease) vanished to without fulfilling his obligations to the Raven, why Mawat's uncle now seems to be the Lease when he really shouldn't be, and why the protection of the Raven seems to be failing. It's a multi-layered mystery, and it's one where the pieces are doled out so carefully, so perfectly, that it was easy to get lost in it.

Piecing together all the little hints about what was happening really kept me turning pages. The flashbacks at first seem like little more than set pieces to explain the history and motivations of the narrative viewpoint, but in those sections lie loads of hints about the current predicament in Vastai, if you know where to look. I had the job of connecting some dots right before their reveal in the text, and then toward the end, when everything is coming to a head and characters have gone too far to reverse course, all the pieces fall into place in a stunning way that left me desperate to know what happens after the last page.

The Raven Tower does end on a cliff-hanger of sorts, though not in a way that suggests a forthcoming sequel. This slice of the world's story is done, though there's obviously plenty that can and will change after the book's closing. I want to know what will happen, I want to see more of Eolo and Tikaz, I want to encounter more gods. The whole book was politics all the way down, in one form or another, and you can't have politics without people (or at least sentient beings), and there's so much that might happen. 

That said, I don't think I want a sequel, not really. The Raven Tower was perfect as a stand-alone fantasy, it told the story it set out to tell, and not everything needs to be a massive tale that's multiple books in the telling. I saw the beginning, and middle, and an end, and that was more than fine. While the world the author set up was a wonderfully creative one, and the characters were ones that prompted thought and consideration, it's okay to not see them again, if this story has been seen to completion.

What I do want to see, however, is more of Ann Leckie's writing. I was captivated by the creativity shown here, and I want to see if that creativity extends to her other novels. The skill shown in managing a 2nd person viewpoint also made me curious to see what else she's accomplished in her time as a writer. It's a good book, in my opinion, that makes you want to go right to the bookstore and buy up other things the author has written. I feel confident that after this, I won't be disappointed.

(Side note, The Raven Tower has queer characters whose queerness is just accepted as another part of who they were, rather than the whole of that person. Fantastic presentation, and fantastic allyship. I appreciate, and I approve.)

Thursday, June 11, 2026

A House With Good Bones - T Kingfisher

 

About the Book

"Mom seems off."

Her brother's words echo in Sam Montgomery's ear as she turns onto the quiet North Carolina street where their mother lives alone.

She brushes the thought away as she climbs the front steps. Sam's excited for this rare extended visit, and looking forward to nights with just the two of them, drinking boxed wine, watching murder mystery shows, and guessing who the killer is long before the characters figure it out.

But stepping inside, she quickly realizes home isn’t what it used to be. Gone is the warm, cluttered charm her mom is known for; now the walls are painted a sterile white. Her mom jumps at the smallest noises and looks over her shoulder even when she’s the only person in the room. And when Sam steps out back to clear her head, she finds a jar of teeth hidden beneath the magazine-worthy rose bushes, and vultures are circling the garden from above.

To find out what’s got her mom so frightened in her own home, Sam will go digging for the truth. But some secrets are better left buried.

256 pages
Published March 28, 2023


If you've read T Kingfisher's The Twisted Ones, then you know some of what you're in for when reading A House With Good Bones. We have the same familiar elements of the Southern US, which I summed up on Bluesky:

@tkingfisher.com novels have convinced me the American South has 3 things: 1) humidity 2) goth baristas 3) evil

In many ways, it felt like A House With Good Bones could have taken place only a few kilometres away from the setting of The Twisted Ones, as the vibe was exactly the same. Which is absolutely fine, and I appreciate that vibe because it reinforces that North Carolina really is like that (except possibly for the evil part; I wouldn't know, I've never been), and since I enjoyed The Twisted Ones so much, I was happy for another dive back into such an immersive and creepy presentation.

Sam temporarily moves back in with her mother, into the house that used to be owned by her overbearing and strict grandmother, only to find that her mother's personality is all but gone from the house. The walls have been repainted, artwork has been replaced, and it resembles nothing so much as the house when it was owned by Sam's grandmother, entirely unlike her mother. Moreover, her mother frequently acts as though someone else is in the house with her, listening, judging, creating an oppressive and confusing atmosphere right from the get-go. 

But it goes beyond Sam worrying that her mother is having mental health issues or is experiencing dementia. Mysterious things keep happening around the property, with everyone involved being reluctant to talk about it. Why are vultures watching the house so closely? Where did all the bugs from the garden disappear to? Who or what is touching Sam with scratchy bony fingers as she sleeps?

And yes, why is a jar of teeth buried under the rose garden?

Just as with The Twisted Ones, Kingfisher weaves real-world inspiration into her story, this time with connections to the strange alchemical attempts to create life from base elements, create magical creature like homunculi, and magic that is both healthy and something that borders LaVey-style Satanism. It made for a story that felt as grounded as it did fantastical. Though most of that element didn't come into obvious play until very near the end, I enjoyed seeing the set-up to the reveal.

Speaking of, though, that reveal really felt a long time in coming. Sam is a very logical character to follow, possibly a bit too much as she overlooked signs that pointed to the supernatural until it was shoved in her face to the point where she simply couldn't ignore it anymore, nor rationalise it away. I can appreciate that the character was trained in science, in analysing the minutiae of a situation before making judgment calls, and yes, also in being biased due to worry over her mother, but after a while it got a bit frustrating to see Sam once again ignore an obvious sign. It went back and forth sometimes, with her almost catching on, but then retreating into her own familiar logic once more. Realistic, perhaps, but still frustrating to read.

Now, I'm not the sort to review reviews, per se, but I've seen a number of reviews point out that Sam's weight shouldn't have been mentioned at all, as it wasn't relevant to the story. I wholeheartedly disagree. Sam lives in her own body, and if her body is larger than average, then she experiences that. She also experiences how society treats that. Her body has informed how she experiences the world and how the world experiences her, so while her weight isn't relevant to the plot, it's relevant to Sam as a character, and thus I have no problems with it being brought up multiple times.

Especially when Sam worries about how she would be treated by doctors. Unfortunately, women - and overweight women especially - do face pushback from doctors regarding medical treatment, with dismissing symptoms and blaming the problem on weight being far too common. I'm fat, I have experienced this myself, and so Sam's mental comments on her weight and how she's perceived by others felt very accurate, very real. I've had those thoughts myself. Her weight is as relevant as her love of British crime dramas, but I saw no reviews pointing out how her TV habits added nothing to the story. That alone told me plenty.

A House With Good Bones, ultimately, was a great story with awkward pacing. Most of the book was set-up for the reveal of how Sam's grandmother was involved in everything happening at the house, with Sam's stubborn refusal to connect the dots dragging things out. The last quarter of the book was almost non-stop action, filled with viscerally disturbing aspects that went a clear extension of things happening earlier in the story, but it wasn't a steady ramp-up so much as setup, setup, setup, ACTION. All the right elements were there, but it didn't quite work. Had I read this before The Twisted Ones, as they have many similar story elements, I might have been more impressed by A House With Good Bones, but if you're looking for a Southern Gothic horror novel with quirky humour and amazing characters, you're better off picking The Twisted Ones. A House With Good Bones wasn't bad, but it just wasn't comparatively as good.

Still, I enjoyed the hell out of it, and so far T Kingfisher is 3 for 3 when it comes to books of hers that I've enjoyed, so I consider that a win in my book.

And never forget: hurt people hurt people.

Friday, June 5, 2026

A Sorceress Comes to Call - T Kingfisher

 

About the book

Cordelia knows her mother is . . . unusual. Their house doesn’t have any doors between rooms―there are no secrets in this house―and her mother doesn't allow Cordelia to have a single friend. Unless you count Falada, her mother's beautiful white horse. The only time Cordelia feels truly free is on her daily rides with him.

But more than simple eccentricity sets her mother apart. Other mothers don’t force their daughters to be silent and motionless for hours, sometimes days, on end. Other mothers aren’t evil sorcerers.

When her mother unexpectedly moves them into the manor home of a wealthy older Squire and his kind but keen-eyed sister, Hester, Cordelia knows this welcoming pair are to be her mother's next victims. But Cordelia feels at home for the very first time among these people, and as her mother's plans darken, she must decide how to face the woman who raised her to save the people who have become like family.

352 pages
Published August 6, 2024


It can't be easy to take the bones of a fairy tale and turn them into something that feels wholly original, but that does seem to be a particular skill of T Kingfisher's. While A Sorceress Comes to Call is apparently a retelling of Grimm's The Goose Girl (is it right to attribute that to the Brothers Grimm, when they were folklorists collecting the stories of the region?), having never read it before, I wouldn't have guessed it was based on anything other than the author's fantastic imagination. Not knowing part of the inspiration didn't detract from my experience or understanding of the story, though I'm now curious to see the narrative overlaps.

Cordelia's story, her slow progression of trying to survive her mother into trying to thrive despite her mother, was one that held deep resonance for me. My childhood wasn't as oppressive as hers was, but I still experienced a struggle to discover who I was and who I could become in spite of what my parents attempted to mold me into. I experienced a sheltered childhood where questions were frowned on and speaking my mind was treated more often as something to be punished than encouraged, so Cordelia's growth wasn't just one I could appreciate reading about, but it was read with so much hope for who she might be after the book ended, after she found a better place, and in turn what that could mean for my own experience.

It's amazing who we can become, when we're given what we need and encouraged to grow.

A Sorceress Comes to Call isn't just a coming-of-age story involving the daughter of a strict sorceress, however. The novel starts off with a moment of subtle horror, with Cordelia being "made obedient," where her mother essentially controls Cordelia's body, making her appear to be the model child who doesn't talk out of turn or fidget in church or do anything that her mother wouldn't want her doing. Being forced down in your own body, being made to sit so still for hours at a time, the muscles ache piling up and up and then cascading to the surface when you're graciously allowed to control yourself once again... There's absolutely horror in that, the lack of control, the pain, the fact that someone would do that to their child, sometimes to enforce good public behaviour but sometimes also as punishment, was terrifying in a way that's very down-to-earth, very real. There are parents out there who would do that to their children if they could, and that's stomach-churning in a way that carnage and gore just isn't.

A Sorceress Comes to Call absolutely does have gore, and some scenes that are quite disturbing in a classically horrific way. But some of what stuck with me the most was Cordelia's struggle against her mother's powers, and how horrifying it also is to be in such a situation.

That being said, there are wonderful beacons of hope and light in the darkness of Cordelia's life. Once Cordelia's mother gets her hooks into the Squire, aiming for a socially-advantageous marriage not only for herself but also eventually Cordelia, the two of them encounter a trio of friends who aspire to help Cordelia out of a very bad situation: Hester (the Squire's sister), and her friends Penelope and Imogene. While at first they don't believe in sorcery (more on that in a moment), they do see that Cordelia is in a predicament, and conspire to rescue her from her mother's clutches, or at least to give her some knowledge and security so that she can stand up for herself. Hester is a solid delight, with her sharp mind and intolerance for bullshit, and Penelope, well! Once you encounter Penelope in the story, she makes an amazing impression, and I love her attitude. Not that Imogene is bland or boring, but it's the other 2 who made the strongest impression on me.

Now, on to sorcery. Sorcery is a known element of the world the story takes place in, but only in small ways. Hiding skin blemishes, making an old horse look in better condition than it is, that sort of thing. Cordelia's mother has far more ability than that, and uses it both often and to her advantage, using the fact that people don't expect that kind of magic in order to hide in plain sight, at least for the most part. When something mysterious and horrendous happens, nobody believes magic could be involved, because magic just doesn't do those things. Except that it does, and part of Cordelia's struggle is to convince her newfound allies that she's telling the truth, that her mother's powers really are that strong, leading to the question of how to undo it and save not only herself, but the Squire, and Hester, and everyone else now concerned with Cordelia and her mother.

I don't want to spoil the story for anyone more than I already have, because it's a deep, dark, and delicious fairy tale retelling that blends magic and demons with the mundane lives of realistic characters, and deserves to be experienced properly by reading it for oneself, not just reading a review and seeing one person's opinions. A Sorceress Comes to Call is a fine example of T Kingfisher's storytelling, her ability to delight and horrify in equal measure, and to also to provide that ray of hope that shines through the stormclouds. Fans of historical horror and dark fantasy will find something truly special here.