The Worm and His Kings

I picked this up from the library since it was on some 'must read' lists and form its length I figured it would be a relatively quick read.returnI enjoy more marginalized, fringe, or under-represented populations showing up in my horror, as we have here with most of our main characters being unhoused and/or lgbtq. Its something I think Michael Shea is sort of the master at when we're looking at urban landscapes in weird fiction/horror. I also typically enjoy the idea of playing with sound and music in these contexts (erik zahn, rahxephon). Unfortunately, I don't think either is done masterfully here. returnThere are a lot of really good elements here, alternate history, weird fiction adjacent elder gods, mysterious creatures, the aforementioned components I typically find great in horror, and the lgbtq representation is nice as well. There's some great internal reflection on the trans experience. But it never really gels. I'd blame it on the length, but a lot of Shea's work is similar in length or shorter and works great. It feels like a lot of different, good, elements that the author tried to frame into a single story and it just doesn't quite get there, and everything is sort of neatly wrapped up (happily or not) at the end. Early on it feels like there are going to be some interesting mystery, even crime noir, elements, but that never really pans out either. Answers are pretty quick in coming, people are pretty much who we're set up to think they are/probably will be. Not bad, just also not great.

I've read a lot of books with 'Lovecraftian vibes', books that posit themselves as 'Lovecraftian remixes', but they never quite catch the soul-sucking horror of The Statement of Randolph Carter. There is something horrible in the unknown, yes, but there's something further horrific in the fact that we are small players in a game where the rules are in a secret and unknowable language. The horror is precisely that, in the grand scale of the universe (for lack of a better term:) we are NPCs. Very few Lovecraftian updates seem to get this, but The Worm and His Kings really, really does. It's not trying to be uplifting, but if you find it uplifting (and you really might!) that's okay, because existence is a matter of perspective, time is casual, and the only constant is the burning of indifferent stars.

In general, I try to keep reviews short and not get too far into spoilers, but the deeper themes of this novella revolve around some revelations that are only revealed in the latter half of the story. There are no direct plot spoilers below, but I do discuss themes that will cause some reveals to be more telegraphed, and easily guessable, than if you're going in blind (like I did).

A cautionary tale on dating cis people, or a cautionary tale for cis people about how to not perceive trans people: it's both. This book is a resounding indictment of the idea that trans people are inherently so strong for being trans. It warns of the way in which cis people, in helping trans people, can often center themselves in their stories and in doing so harm trans people.

It is a story about trans people that is about more than basic representation; it actually engages in all the messy, painful, deeply important parts of being trans. Self-love and acceptance is not enough. The sharp and painful parts of you do not need to be exorcized in order for you to be valid. No one can validate you but you, and that's a hard, painful lesson to learn, a difficult journey to make, not a soft and cuddly tale full of hugs, kisses, and the beneficent approval of the right cis person.

Thematically, this book makes a trilogy with Gretchen Felker-Martin's Manhunt and Maya Deane's Wrath Goddess Sings, though I think this one is perhaps the most successful, possibly due to its brevity. This book is truly a 4.75 for me, losing that quarter star just because its ending is a little belabored, but that's fine. The Worm waits for us all.