This debut horror novella was a very nice surprise.
In the double magics of pre-internet childhood and coastal South Carolina, an eleven-year old boy, his biologist father and his pretty, secretive mother have their peaceful beachfront cottage life disturbed when the boy’s grandfather shows up one day. Nothing’s quite right about the old man, not even his ankles. That not-rightness slowly chips away at the household’s peace, and it seems that the only thing standing between the boy and his grandfather’s slowly unfurling monstrosity is a very faithful dog named Teach. How long Teach can protect the boy from his own growing curiosity and strengthening will is a different story, however.
At their best, horror stories are metaphors for the things we have a hard time understanding about ourselves and our relationships. This works better in some stories than others, and it’s done perfectly in this book. There’s both joy and terror in becoming an adult. The rapid physical changes of puberty, the sudden self-aware emotional inclusion in family traumas, and the realization that the simple loving safety of a good childhood can’t always protect grown-up you are all folded perfectly into these pages, and then some. I won’t spoil the how, but at the end of this, I was sad and scared and creeped out and wanted to give both the boy and myself a hug.
The writing is really good, too. It’s the kind of well-turned, thoughtful prose that makes you look up words and not mind it. It’s the kind of writing where almost no one has a name but it’s still easy to keep track of all the characters. Coney immerses you emotionally and sensorily in the boy’s world so well that you can taste the salt and feel the sorrow equally.
One thing – I don’t usually read reviews, but I did for this and was surprised and annoyed by what people are flagging this book for. It’s a big spoiler, so warning — there’s a spoiler in the rest of this paragraph. A lot of people–mostly women of a certain demographic–are one-starring this book on Goodreads and Amazon. Why? Because the dog dies. A lot of people don’t like animal deaths in fiction, but this isn’t a gratuitous death–it’s the last beat of sadness in a very sad and wild ending. Also, there is child abuse and a very gruesome femicide in this book and nobody’s one-starring it for either of those. I feel like the folks one-starring this for animal death really aren’t on their own side, if you know what I mean.
This was good in a way I haven’t experienced in a while–moving, relatable, and equal parts otherworldly and sadly familiar.
A treat for a very good dog and a hug for a growing “boy” to Wild Spaces.
(Fellow readers! This was very good, if not exactly seasonal. Check it and others like it out at the Equal Opportunity Bookshop, but remember we earn a commission for every purchase made from a link on this site. Thanks for reading, and peace!)
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