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Tag Archives: body horror

Spread Me: A Review

Sarah Gailey has been one of my favorite writers since I first encountered their work in River of Teeth. They have a tremendous knack for writing team dynamics and characters who survive against all odds. Their most recent book, Spread Me, is a spectacular example of both of these qualities with healthy doses of horror and horniness mixed in.

Kinsey is a researcher. She is the leader of an isolated team that is studying the cryptobiotic crust deep in the desert on a four-year mission. As is expected of humans under these sort of circumstances, the members of the team find themselves romantically (or at least sexually) entangled with one another, with the sole exception of Kinsey herself. While she’s not asexual, she’s not attracted to any of her fellow researchers (or fellow humans). Kinsey has a unique situation that she’s struggled to hide from the others at the station—she’s attracted to and aroused by viruses.

Under normal circumstances, Kinsey’s feelings aren’t an issue. She’s not distracted by the interactions of her coworkers, and feels like the isolation of their research station is conducive to her ability to focus on her work. Really, it’s an ideal setup for her. Until, of course, the specimen is unearthed.

Domino is the one to accidentally uncover it, but Kinsey is the one who saw it was breathing, the one to insist on breaking with protocols and bringing it inside the research station before an oncoming sandstorm can bury it again. Against the protests of Mads, the team medic, she brings the thing into the lab. To give a nod to Gailey’s earlier work, “this was a terrible plan.” Not long after contact with the specimen, the other team members begin to show signs of a viral infection, and Kinsey… Kinsey begins to fantasize about the implications of a previously unknown type of life—one that seems to know just what it is that she desires most, and is willing to do anything to give it to her.

Spread Me is an utterly brilliant erotic horror novella. Kinsey is simultaneously distant and sympathetic as she struggles with the differences between acknowledging and loving what she has and exploring her deepest, most secret desires. The novella alternates skillfully between chapters covering the present situation at the station and the recent past, wherein Kinsey and her subordinates meet, arrive at the station for the first time, and get to know each other. It’s a welcome diversion from the mounting tension (dramatic and otherwise) in the present, and gives you a chance to understand the relationships, and just why everyone at the station implicitly trusts Kinsey, even when that’s not the best course of action.

I absolutely loved Spread Me. It’s the fourth Gailey book I’ve read, and it’s an unrepentantly horny version of my all-time favorite horror movie, John Carpenter’s The Thing. My utmost thanks to NetGalley and Tor for providing me with an eARC in exchange for a fair review. Spread Me is available today. If you’re looking for sexy horror, this is it. Go get it.

Black Flame: A Review

I love when Gretchen Felker-Martin releases a new book, and today is no exception. Black Flame is out in the world today, and that’s more than a little terrifying to think too much about.

It’s 1985, and Ellen Kramer is working as a film and negative restorer at a Staten Island archival firm. When a long lost German film, “Black Flame,” arrives at their building, Ellen and her coworkers are torn. It’s not a popular kind of movie, after all. It’s full of queer people in gender-bending roles, made on a low budget, and only recently recovered from the collection of a now-deceased Nazi officer. The film itself is in horrible shape, requiring lots of extra care and attention from the restoration team. The work, however, would pay enough to keep the firm afloat for most of the next year. Never mind the fact that it has the chance to fix the firm’s public image after their last big project’s connection to the KKK brought all the wrong kinds of attention to them. With that kind of money in the offering, Ellen’s boss leaps at the opportunity. He also decides that Ellen, being Jewish, should head up the effort to restore a lost work by a great Jewish director.

Ellen’s very uncomfortable with all of this. It makes her think of her ex, Freddie, and the time the two of them spent together. Time that she would much rather consider a phase after the two of them broke up. It doesn’t help that her parents are trying to set her up with a nice young man who might become mayor someday. They’re concerned that if she doesn’t get married and have children soon, it might be too late for her. The work strains her relationships with her coworkers too, to the point where all Ellen wants is to finish restoring the print so that she can be rid of the film forever.

That’s not how this is going to go. After accidentally cutting her hand on the film negative, things start to get progressively weirder. Ellen begins to question everything she knows about herself, her sexuality, her gender, her religion, her family history, and even reality itself. As the work stretches on, more and more of the past begins to bubble up to the surface. Some things, after all, will always refuse to remain hidden, and the costs of bringing “Black Flame” back into the present are far more severe than anyone could have anticipated.

Black Flame is a quick, almost frenetic short novel, clocking in at just over 200 pages. It’s far shorter than Felker-Martin’s earlier works, Manhunt and Cuckoo, but it’s no less gruesome and scary. Body horror remains one of her strongest suits, but the tension that she builds with Ellen in such a short period of time is absolutely incredible. I raced through this book out of sheer desire for the release of finishing and seeing how the end finally arrives.

My utmost thanks to Tor Nightfire and NetGalley for an eARC in exchange for a fair review. Black Flame is on shelves today, August 5th. Go get yourself a nice, fast-reading spooky. It’s almost Hallowe’en, after all.

Cuckoo: A Review

Gretchen Felker-Martin is back! It’s been two years since Manhunt dropped, and the world is still reeling from her spectacularly violent, grimy apocalypse novel. Now she’s written an arguably darker tale of queer fear in Cuckoo.

Like its predecessor, Cuckoo is undeniably a queer horror story. The novel introduces us to a group of teens, each of whom has been violently removed from their home and forcefully transported across the country. Their only crime? Being a queer teen in the 90s, for which their parents shipped them off to be changed. When they arrive at Camp Resolution, a desert-based conversion camp, they have nothing but each other, and no idea what they’re about to face. They don’t even know what state they’re in. Far from home and cut off from the outside world, they’ll have to band together to make it out unchanged.

Camp Resolution is, in a word, weird. The educational curriculum is pseudoscience, the physical activities consist of backbreaking labor or myriad household chores (depending on assigned sex), and the counselors are not just prone to violence but actively encourage it. The campers who have been there longer are brutal to the newcomers, and even Pastor Eddie, the leader of the camp, won’t hesitate to beat any of the teens who don’t bow to his whims.

Something darker still lurks in the shadows of Camp Resolution, though. The campers who have graduated from the program are… different. Not themselves anymore (and while some would argue that yes, that’s the point of a conversion camp, Resolution’s strategy relies a lot less on prayer and the Bible). Then, the dreams begin. The same dream. Each camper is digging a hole, and they find their own body buried deep in the earth. Something is reaching out to them, speaking to them… preparing them. Our ragged misfits know that they have to escape the camp, before they too are irrevocably changed.

Gretchen Felker-Martin absolutely nailed the building dread in Cuckoo. This book is just as filthy as Manhunt, and I mean that in the best way of describing her aesthetics and worldbuilding. I was thrilled to find out that her sophomore effort was an incredibly solid piece of horror. Cuckoo is out in the world today. Go get it. Read it. Get scared. Repeat.

My utmost thanks to Tor and NetGalley for an eARC in exchange for a fair review.