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My gateway book to Stephen Graham Jones' unique world began with My Heart Is A Chainsaw, which I loved. I mean, how could I not, as a former teenage horror buff who preferred movies to real life? The Only Good Indians actually preceded My Heart Is A Chainsaw IRL so this was long before Jade Daniels wished upon a star for calamity to befall her little Idaho town. Long before then, you see, there was a young elk mother pregnant with her calf. And four young Indians who weren't supposed to hunting in this part of the woods.

But they did anyway. On Thanksgiving, no less. What happens then to all the elk they shot when they're caught? They had to let them rot, as part of an agreement with the law. The only elk the men could bury was a little unborn calf. There's something odd about the unborn calf's mother though. Young and unusually tenacious, she did not go down easy, not even when a shell obliterates half of her head. As it turns out, she was really only temporarily incapacitated...

The Only Good Indians can thought of as a book with two halves and two main characters. Lewis leads the first half of the book, with secondary characters in his orbit such as Peta (his wife), his old buddies from the reservation, and his coworkers from the post office. The second half of the book is driven by Denorah, the daughter of one of Lewis's old reservation buddies and Thanksgiving massacre accomplices, Gabe. In her orbit are some characters from Lewis's old life, mostly Indians who never did manage to leave the reservation.

The transition that bridges the two parts is, I think, the part where readers will diverge in their appreciation for the book. It's... rocky to be sure, sort of like, going to work and then realising in the middle of the work day that you've been dreaming all along. The reappearance of Deer Head Woman is like a rock skipping over the surface of a once tranquil lake, a disturbance that unravels Lewis's mind bit by poisonous bit.

One of SGJ's greatest skills is his ability to have us buy-in to whatever's happening on the page. He navigates mental health issues, superstition, guilt and desire in the Book of Lewis with a delicate touch. But eventually, even a man who has made it out of the reservation must answer the irresistible call of the void when all his luck runs out. In the Book of Denorah, he gives the kid all the reasons she needs to thrive, to go places with her hard-won basketball abilities. Then, he cranks that up to an 11 because now it isn't just about scoring, but surviving.

But once you get over that hump, The Only Good Indians is a wild ride that doesn't let up. It pits undying vengeance and the ancestral memory of the herd against characters deserving and undeserving, and the world is all the more interesting (and bloodier) for it.

I've been wanting to read this book for a long time, because it's often listed as an influence by authors of all kinds. I'm not sure what I was expecting but Post Office was alright. It was published a long time ago, so any groundbreaking elements have long been eroded by what's come after. Still, it is extremely readable and chugs along at a relatively fast pace. It's also quite relatable, for anybody who's ever been forced to hold a shitty job. (Thankfully, I've never had to deliver mail in a flood zone but as a former fry cook, high highs and low lows are just part of these jobs.)

As a queer person, it's a fascinating look into how straight people... tangle. The way women seem to flock to Chinaski, a man of questionable charm, is intriguing. I'm not saying he has no redeeming qualities, just that I'm not sure what any of his women saw in him. As endings go, Post Office's ending is kind of a non-ending, hinting at how lost people will always remain lost and end up making more lost people. (We can't be sure what sort of person baby Chinaski will grow up to become, of course.)

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Post Office is how it intersects with real life. Jane Cooney Baker was the real Betty, a widowed alcoholic 11 years older than Bukowski and the love of his life. Was Betty's sadness and her decision to slowly off herself by drink avoidable, with what help was available during her lifetime? We will never know. Another interesting tidbid is how Post Office was cranked out in a year after Bukowski had quit being a postal worker, after getting an offer at age 49 from Black Sparrow Press. This makes me wonder how much of Post Office's material was written when Bukowski was 49, or whether it was cobbled together from material through the years.

I'm glad I read Post Office but it's unlikely I will reread this. Not ruling out any other Bukowski books though!

The Woods was a 2006 supernatural thriller about a girl discovering that the boarding school she's trapped in is run by evil witches. Art School Confidential was a 2006 comedy-thriller about an art student trying to get the girl of his dreams to notice him and y'know what, she finally does when he's accidentally framed for murder!

In terms of tonality, A Lesson In Vengeance definitely leans toward The Woods because it takes itself very seriously 99.9% of the time. But there's something inherently darkly funny about how both Ellis and poor Jerome get what they desire, at great cost. One gets as close as they can get to the centre of their obsession and the other finally gets his girl. Both lose their freedoms, one permanently, one maybe not so much.

Where A Lesson In Vengeance mirrors The Woods is its inability to take itself less seriously. Felicity has little in the way of a real friend or a functioning support system. The book is written from Felicity's point of view, so we're always swimming in her thoughts. I found her neurotic behaviour fascinating, because she's struggling to break free from her mother's control but at the same time, her mind is somewhat malleable. She feels an irresistible pull towards Ellis and does whatever she wants her and the girls to do. She lets her psychiatrist shape her memory, mold the circumstances of Alex's death into something it is not. But Felicity often tries, even if she may ultimately fail, to not become like her mother and to reject her influence and her alleged concern.

In her mother's case, the influence is alcohol which has led the very wealthy Mrs. Morrow to destroy many priceless pieces of art and forego her parental responsibilities. For Felicity's case, the influence is something dark that whispers to her. It may or may not have inadvertently led to Alex's death. But it certainly led to Ellis's. And that second event seems to have emptied Felicity of all inertia and some degree of humanity.

At the epilogue, some time has passed since the events of the book. Felicity has a new girlfriend and a new life in London. She seems both committed and haunted at the same time. Committed to the dark whispering that suggests her relationship has an expiry date and feeling no guilt that she will break her girlfriend's heart. Haunted, because when she sees Ellis's posthumous literary masterpiece, dedicated to her, out in the book store, she cannot even bring herself to look at it.

Maybe at the end, A Lesson In Vengeance isn't about the witches of Dalloway and the curse, but about how ruin can sprout from tragedy and then spread like a disease, infecting those closest to them with a nihilism that eats away at their humanity and their ability to see human suffering. All in all, A Lesson In Vengeance has some quality thrills and is a more than enjoyable, if not entirely convincing romp featuring two characters with tragic pasts who feel compelled to do horrible things to each other.

Notes - I keep thinking of this as a movie, because movies don't have to make as much sense and because actors are magic. Shout out to Piper Laurie, who played Carrie's mum like she was in a dark comedy, because she found the script so operatic and over-the-top. Casting Felicity is going to be a challenge because she is kind of a calm ocean with chaos roiling underneath. - I'm also wondering if there was a better way to reveal who Ellis really is and how damaged she is, outside of that conversation with her sibling. I'm thinking of the scrabble scene in Rosemary's Baby, which was so beautifully dramatic and darkly funny. (Obligatory fuck you to Roman Polanski, obviously.)

A coming-of-age transmasc story about escaping from home, except in this case, home is also the ecofascistic doomsday cult that helped raised our main character, Benji.

This mostly fast-moving YA novel also covers abusive relationships, neurodiverse friendships, queer rage, ecological collapse, body horror and the idea of heaven being a shared state of mind (more on that later). I like to think of Hell Followed With Us as a YA revenge novel where the "monster" fights back and reclaims their agency from the edict of an absent or straight-up cruel god—by becoming the weapon they were always supposed to be and using their monster powers for good.

HFWU imagines a post-apocalyptic world where civilisation is all but eradicated, not because of nuclear winter, but because of biochemical attacks. In this scenario, collapse came by way of religious extremists and not by directives issued by warring world leaders. The Angels, an ecofascist cult, believe ecological collapse is coming because of overpopulation and that they must save the earth before that happens by... genocide. So the Angels created The Flood, a quick-acting virus that causes grotesque deaths through gruesome bodily transformations. Victims die or become Graces, lethal amalgamations of flesh, bone and teeth. They engineer mass infections that wipe out entire cities and then send death squads with Graces out to murder survivors. HFWU is set after the end of the world, where Acheson, Pennsylvania has already been conquered by the Angels.

We start off by Benji running away from everything he's ever known: the cult led by his mother, who issued the order for his father's execution. His betrothed, a member of a death squad, who may or may not love him more than he loves god. Somehow, Benji finds his way to the ALC (Acheson LGBTQ+ Centre), which is still rife with life and battle-hardened queers of all sorts. Here, there's the potential for a whole new way of living not centred on death, along with new allies, friends and maybe more....

Here's my favourite quote from the book, who touches on the ALC and transness:

"In a place like the ALC, after Judgement Day, it's easy to forget you're trans. Or maybe a better way to word it would be, it gets easier for me to forget the pain of being trans. Being transgender is who you are, and the pain is what the outside world does to you. The pain is what happens when you and the world go for each other's throats. In the ALC, I almost forget being trans can hurt."

Back to that heaven being a shared state of mind... Those infected with The Flood get access to the hive mind, where you can speak directly to other infected in the area. Benji inexplicably gets teleported to what he thinks is the Angels' culling fields a few times through HFWU. As it turns out, this interdimensional place is the closest thing to heaven. There, he appears as he views himself, not as he appears to others. Any injuries magically disappear in this strange place. He's also able to speak directly to others there, though it's unclear if all infected get access or only VIPs like Benji. It's a unique take on the concept of heaven and the fact that Benji's epic tussle with Theo lands him there makes me wonder if he got close to death? What does it mean that Nick's voice managed to call him back to the real world, back on the PCU campus?

It's one of the biggest questions left unanswered, along with, "Do Graces think about their past lives and dream of peanut butter sandwiches?" and "Do Graces argue with themselves because they are a composite of different individuals?". I don't mind not knowing, because it gets me thinking and because our world is full of mysteries too.

Just like that, my nightly habit of staring at my phone for hours instead of sleeping, mesmerised by Felix Castor's misfortunes and how those misfortunes tend to spread to his associates went poof. The final book in Mike Carey's Felix Castor series is a fast-moving riot that resolves major plot points; some with a bang and others with a whimper.

The Big Kahuna is Rafi/Asmodeus's escape from the now very deceased Ice Maker—thanks to overconfident, militant excommunicated Catholics known as the Anathemata. The sadistic Asmodeus is eager to make full use of his freedom hunting down every last tie Rafi has left in this world, whether it's his ex-girlfriend Pen, Felix himself, or his estranged brother in a Macedonian death row cell. Then there's Nick, Felix's zombie pal, London's best information broker and the Ice Maker's most paranoid undead client. The Ice Maker's death has him worse for wear and the events at Mount Grace Crematorium in Dead Man's Boots has got him thinking about his life after his body gives way. Should Nick doubledown on eternal life in a "leaking boat" or live like the Mount Grace ghosts do, by taking over bodies that are still very much alive? There's also the mystery of Juliet, the reformed succubus and Felix's sort-of friend who's been acting more than a little strange lately. On top of that, Felix also has to deal with being Trudi's colleague thanks to agreeing to work with Jenna-Jane Mulbridge, head of the Metamorphic Ontology Unit (MOU), a cruel woman who sees undead creatures as little more than scientific curiosities. Trudi, if you recall, is the ex-Anathemata exorcist Felix literally walks away from in Thicker Than Water when he finds out that Father Gwilliam double-crossed him.

We get a hell of a showdown with Rafi, one that's been in the making from the first time we read about Rafi and Felix in Vicious Circle, the very first book in the series. It'll get all your cylinders pumping and hanging onto every word. (The lackluster part of this is, I'm not sure if we find out much more about Rafi in this book, other than the fact that he was a very narcissistic man at one point in time.)

Nick's fate is left unspoken, perhaps the man himself hasn't deigned to make any firm commitments. As for Juliet, this is one ending I feel deserves a little more attention. It isn't just because I'm a huge Juliet fan but also because the girl's brain was literally hijacked by a demon of a higher order. How will she make sure this won't happen again and what does she think of what she's done while her brain was scrambled by Asmodeus? I really wish we knew. I really wish we had more of an insight as to Asmodeus and Juliet's dynamic, like how Juliet and Moloch's temporary alliance made for some interesting learning on demonology. As for Trudi, I mostly enjoyed their little will-they-or-won't-they but I find it lacks a tiny bit of conviction. It's not entirely unconvincing, perhaps it just needs a little on-screen chemistry for their relationship to truly blossom.

As for Jenna-Jane Mulbridge, Felix's old boss and dear old Rosie Crucis, the MOU's star captive and the oldest ghost in all of existence? Mike Carey's chronicling of Felix's escape from the MOU with McClennan and Juliet make for the most riveting reading second from the showdown with Rafi. Those passages are hugely satisfying to read and put a smile on my face. Felix's buddy Rosie, the oldest ghost in all of existence, really fucking delivered.

This might be my favourite book in the whole series; although I'm not sure I can give it that title what with Juliet (yes, she is my favourite character) not being herself for large chunks of the book.

Thank you Mike Carey for this gritty, irreverent and darkly funny supernatural mystery series—I'm going to miss your version of London very much.

Summary The breathless, effortless cruelty of teens is a timeless constant and every high school is its own battlefield. Tolly Driver swims against the current of popularity with only his bestie, Amber Big Plume Dennison, for company. When his schoolmate, Justin Joss, perishes in a terrible hazing accident, the bullies' eyes turn to him. Horrible events that ensue change Tolly and not for the better.

The Setting This book is lovingly set in Lamesa, Texas in 1989 and it will remind you of this often! Sometimes, it's through including landmarks like the Sky-Vue Drive-In which was a real place that opened in 1948! Sometimes, it's through terms that might just bounce off Texas natives, but appear thoroughly arcane to folks like me.

Terms I learnt from this book ✔️ Blacktop (Tarmac) ✔️ Glasspack (Automobile muffler) ✔️ Pumpjack (Also called a grasshopper pump) ✔️ Chihuahua (A Sky-Vue special: a taco with cabbage, pimento cheese and chili smeared between fried corn tortilla shells.)

What Killing Machines Are Made Of The stoic, unkillable killing machine is the type of slasher that rules the roost in Lamesa. There'll be no Freddy-eqsue wisecracking here, thank you. There's a certain distance created between killer and victim through this slow but determined action, where the killer and victim are simply performing their roles assigned to them by the slasher gods. The Tolly that goes on rampages is very different from the Tolly that rides along with him. Stephen Graham Jones (SGJ) gives us cool cues that wouldn't be out of place in a video game, or heck, an actual slasher movie. A face that feels numb and rigid plus the loss of colour perception are big red flags that Tolly is in slasher mode. But to show us that he's changed forever, even when he's out of slasher mode, he survives being hit by a truck and can't ever unsheath a knife without an accompanying schiiiing!

The Heart of A Slasher While the blood count of this book is pretty healthy, I Was A Teenage Slasher is at its heart a book about relationships. SGJ is a master at crafting relationships that feel nuanced and painfully real. I loved Tolly's relationship with his parents. I thought it was a really nice touch that their VHS movie night tradition carried on after his dad passed—I loved how his mum even took up the mantle of falling asleep halfway, just like his dad used to. I loved Tolly and Amber's conversation with the Josses at the cemetery, how they carefully navigate around each other's grief. I loved Tolly and Amber's friendship, how they grow apart and then grow closer again as Tolly finds himself in a crisis, one which only someone like Amber—with her slasher and Tolly know-how can spot.

One thing I'm unsure about is the nature of Tolly's love toward Amber. I know he loves her, enough to die for her, just like how she desperately tried to avoid hurting him after he goes all Jason Voorhees. But I'm not sure if this is a platonic or romantic love, or frankly, that this distinction even matters? (Though I suppose it would be sadder if he did love her in a romantic way, because she might never know.)

Lingering Questions Did Justin Joss's death kickstart a whole chain of deadly events in Lamesa, Texas in 1989? Or was it a careless flick of blood on his grave that did it, gave him enough life to return as a slasher? Would the bloodshed have ended when Justin got his dues, had his blood not "infected" Tolly? I don't think the absence of answers here diminishes the brilliance of I Was A Teenage Slasher in any way, in fact I like how it adds a little supernatural mystery to the mix.