G. Deyke reviewed Monster Girls Don't Cry by Merc Fenn Wolfmoor
[Adapted from initial review on Goodreads.]
4 stars
(Free early copy via the author's newsletter.)
As always: collections are a mixed bag. Most of these stories I liked, some I loved, and some (with overlap) made me very, very uncomfortable. These are dark - in part very dark - but they also have a strong tendency towards good endings; there's despair and hopelessness, but just about every story also features eventual triumph, mostly via reclaimed power.
Because mine is an early copy, I don't know if the included content warnings (for each individual story, via footnote) are final, but: "violence" is listed in just about every one, so if that's a problem for you you're better off skipping the whole collection. They also tend to be very broad, and certain things were either omitted or, I guess, covered under "violence": loss of autonomy figures prominently in several stories, rape is mentioned in at least one and attempted in …
(Free early copy via the author's newsletter.)
As always: collections are a mixed bag. Most of these stories I liked, some I loved, and some (with overlap) made me very, very uncomfortable. These are dark - in part very dark - but they also have a strong tendency towards good endings; there's despair and hopelessness, but just about every story also features eventual triumph, mostly via reclaimed power.
Because mine is an early copy, I don't know if the included content warnings (for each individual story, via footnote) are final, but: "violence" is listed in just about every one, so if that's a problem for you you're better off skipping the whole collection. They also tend to be very broad, and certain things were either omitted or, I guess, covered under "violence": loss of autonomy figures prominently in several stories, rape is mentioned in at least one and attempted in at least one other, and dogs have an unfortunate tendency not to survive.
It's this loss-of-autonomy -> reclaimed-power dynamic that really ties the collection together, at once the biggest warning and the biggest selling point. (Though also: plenty of varied queer representation! Interesting worldbuilding! What feels like an extended metaphor for autism via the social model of disability but could probably just as well be read as any other marginalisation!) It's bleak and cathartic and grimly hopeful, and might haunt someone for years or might save someone's life. I suspect it may be one of those books where how it affects you, and whether it does anything for you at all, depends heavily on who you are and what you've experienced up to reading it.
Anyway, overall I liked it.