A consistently eerie tale all the way to its smashing end.

READ REVIEW

THE MATRIARCH

In Hawes’ (The Sitter, 2012) horror tale, a series of murders of men by women in a small California town seems to be tied somehow to a suddenly flourishing fig tree.

Cass Murphy is out on the street when his girlfriend, Lauren, kicks him out for quitting his job and bringing home a rescue pit bull, which she thinks is a vicious breed. So he accepts his uncle Frank’s invitation to the nearby Diablo County ranch where Cass once stayed as a boy. Frank is astonished by the fact that a once-barren fig tree has been producing huge amounts of fruit following an earthquake. But he’s unnerved by what he mysteriously calls “something dark,” and, without explanation, he gives his nephew a gun and insists that he always carry it. The small town is later shocked when a local woman, whom Cass has known for years, hacks her husband to death with a meat cleaver. As other women and girls kill spouses and dads, Cass attributes their erratic behavior to what he simply calls “The Tree,” because most of the women had eaten its figs. The Tree is unusual in other ways, as well, as it has strangely moist bark and tentaclelike roots—and it’s only growing bigger. Hawes’ sometimes-violent novel is filled with creepy moments. The murders are disturbing, even when they aren’t shown, but the best scenes involve characters confronting The Tree directly; for example, Cass equates the glowing bark, which later sports weird swellings, with skin. Some readers may see the story as a twisted play on the biblical tale of original sin, but Hawes focuses on horror-genre thrills and leaves her story’s refreshingly understated themes open for interpretation. An unfortunate drawback is the lack of sympathy shown for the victims, who are either relative unknowns or seemingly deserving of their fates. Readers will still root for Cass, though, particularly when he saves his dog from danger.

A consistently eerie tale all the way to its smashing end.

Pub Date: Aug. 7, 2016

ISBN: N/A

Page Count: 234

Publisher: Cliff-Hanger Publication

Review Posted Online: March 6, 2017

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

DEVOLUTION

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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Kin “[find] each other’s lives inscrutable” in this rich, sharp story about the way identity is formed.

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THE VANISHING HALF

Inseparable identical twin sisters ditch home together, and then one decides to vanish.

The talented Bennett fuels her fiction with secrets—first in her lauded debut, The Mothers (2016), and now in the assured and magnetic story of the Vignes sisters, light-skinned women parked on opposite sides of the color line. Desiree, the “fidgety twin,” and Stella, “a smart, careful girl,” make their break from stultifying rural Mallard, Louisiana, becoming 16-year-old runaways in 1954 New Orleans. The novel opens 14 years later as Desiree, fleeing a violent marriage in D.C., returns home with a different relative: her 8-year-old daughter, Jude. The gossips are agog: “In Mallard, nobody married dark....Marrying a dark man and dragging his blueblack child all over town was one step too far.” Desiree's decision seals Jude’s misery in this “colorstruck” place and propels a new generation of flight: Jude escapes on a track scholarship to UCLA. Tending bar as a side job in Beverly Hills, she catches a glimpse of her mother’s doppelgänger. Stella, ensconced in white society, is shedding her fur coat. Jude, so black that strangers routinely stare, is unrecognizable to her aunt. All this is expertly paced, unfurling before the book is half finished; a reader can guess what is coming. Bennett is deeply engaged in the unknowability of other people and the scourge of colorism. The scene in which Stella adopts her white persona is a tour de force of doubling and confusion. It calls up Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, the book's 50-year-old antecedent. Bennett's novel plays with its characters' nagging feelings of being incomplete—for the twins without each other; for Jude’s boyfriend, Reese, who is trans and seeks surgery; for their friend Barry, who performs in drag as Bianca. Bennett keeps all these plot threads thrumming and her social commentary crisp. In the second half, Jude spars with her cousin Kennedy, Stella's daughter, a spoiled actress.

Kin “[find] each other’s lives inscrutable” in this rich, sharp story about the way identity is formed.

Pub Date: June 2, 2020

ISBN: 978-0-525-53629-1

Page Count: 352

Publisher: Riverhead

Review Posted Online: March 15, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2020

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