The threat’s intangible, but the imagery in this imposing tale is discernibly moody and uncanny.

The History Major

In this existential thriller, a college student’s disconcerting history class may force her to face troubling memories.

Partying with friends and fighting with boyfriend Patrick are all that Amanda Greene remembers about last night. Her first day of college, however, is rife with fuzzy recollections. Her dorm roommate is unrecognizable, the greenery outside is replaced with autumn colors, and she’s scheduled for History 101 but is positive she didn’t register for it. History, as it turns out, is a little unsettling. The professor continues a lesson already begun, lecturing, it seems, only to Amanda and not the other students, “all facing front, like robots.” Escape for the increasingly uncomfortable Amanda doesn’t seem feasible: gloved fists are pounding at the door, along with something sporting thick, purplish skin. Answers to what’s going on may be tied to Amanda’s strangely familiar classmate, Nick Fortune. He doesn’t exactly clarify anything, but he acts as a guide: “You have to trust me,” he tells her. “Finish the lecture.” The professor discusses historical figures such as Joan of Arc and Lucrezia Borgia, but scenes from their lives are soon coupled with Amanda’s. She thinks back to years ago, at home with abhorrent stepbrother Wayne, and begins recalling disturbing details from the night before. Plot specifics in the novella are initially scarce, because the big reveal isn’t until the final pages. But the story thrives on atmosphere, with Amanda’s dizzying confusion giving the landscape an otherworldly aura. Some of the tale’s details are straight out of a horror novel, including Amanda’s distinct feeling of being watched and students on campus suddenly disappearing. But the prose is often subtle, slowly building up tension even if readers aren’t sure what’s so terrifying. Cash (Brood X, 2015, etc.) intermingles beauty and violence, like Amanda’s view from her dorm room window: “The leaves withering, curling, setting the branches on fire with vivid oranges, yellows, and reds.” Readers may guess the ending, but that won’t diminish its impact. It’s smartly ambiguous and open to interpretation, and some may delight in a second (or third) read.

The threat’s intangible, but the imagery in this imposing tale is discernibly moody and uncanny.

Pub Date: Dec. 17, 2015

ISBN: 978-1-5188-9379-7

Page Count: 130

Publisher: CreateSpace

Review Posted Online: Jan. 14, 2016

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2016

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A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.

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Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z (2006).

A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.

A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.

Pub Date: June 16, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine

Review Posted Online: Feb. 10, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020

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Forget about solving all these crimes; the signal triumph here is (spoiler) the heroine’s survival.


Another sweltering month in Charlotte, another boatload of mysteries past and present for overworked, overstressed forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan.

A week after the night she chases but fails to catch a mysterious trespasser outside her town house, some unknown party texts Tempe four images of a corpse that looks as if it’s been chewed by wild hogs, because it has been. Showboat Medical Examiner Margot Heavner makes it clear that, breaking with her department’s earlier practice (The Bone Collection, 2016, etc.), she has no intention of calling in Tempe as a consultant and promptly identifies the faceless body herself as that of a young Asian man. Nettled by several errors in Heavner’s analysis, and even more by her willingness to share the gory details at a press conference, Tempe launches her own investigation, which is not so much off the books as against the books. Heavner isn’t exactly mollified when Tempe, aided by retired police detective Skinny Slidell and a host of experts, puts a name to the dead man. But the hints of other crimes Tempe’s identification uncovers, particularly crimes against children, spur her on to redouble her efforts despite the new M.E.’s splenetic outbursts. Before he died, it seems, Felix Vodyanov was linked to a passenger ferry that sank in 1994, an even earlier U.S. government project to research biological agents that could control human behavior, the hinky spiritual retreat Sparkling Waters, the dark web site DeepUnder, and the disappearances of at least four schoolchildren, two of whom have also turned up dead. And why on earth was Vodyanov carrying Tempe’s own contact information? The mounting evidence of ever more and ever worse skulduggery will pull Tempe deeper and deeper down what even she sees as a rabbit hole before she confronts a ringleader implicated in “Drugs. Fraud. Breaking and entering. Arson. Kidnapping. How does attempted murder sound?”

Forget about solving all these crimes; the signal triumph here is (spoiler) the heroine’s survival.

Pub Date: March 17, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-9821-3888-2

Page Count: 352

Publisher: Scribner

Review Posted Online: Dec. 23, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2020

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