There's something about horror that takes place in the sun that seems almost more horrific. The bright light of day doesn't allow for anything to hideThere's something about horror that takes place in the sun that seems almost more horrific. The bright light of day doesn't allow for anything to hide away. Instead, we see the monstrous in its fullness, and we can succumb, run, or fight.
A queer, genderfluid main character is the only way to experience the liminal spaces presented by this novel. It is interested in the in-between and what lives in that push and pull. It explores family, especially what is expected of us and how much of ourselves we hide away to fulfill those expectations. On the other side of the familial tug-of-war game is who we are and what we want. How much space do we have to reject expectations and make our own way in the world? It is a book about grief and the ways we hide from and accept it. It confronts the gender binary, especially toxic interpretations of masculinity and femininity that are mired in our society's patriarchal worldview.
How do we—any and all of us—break free from all of that? Once you start unpacking it, the question becomes more about how many constructs we've internalized until they feel true. Where does the unraveling begin? How can we begin to create a new world if we are products of the old one? There is a quote that hit me hard as I was reading: "It made me wonder what shape I'd be if I'd never met another human being." Wow. Would it even be possible to form in such a vacuum?
These are the kinds of questions that La Sala's book is seeking answers to. I'm not saying there are answers, but it's more about the process, the work of becoming. Along the way, the book serves up some hellishly visceral body horror. It is the kind of book that draws you in with a sweet scent, but once you taste the honey, you become mired in the sticky pool. And it's only then you slowly realize that the sticky sweetness hides something darker....more
I think there is suuuch a focus on socially conscious horror, those stories that are commenting on the f**ked-upedness of society, that it almost feelI think there is suuuch a focus on socially conscious horror, those stories that are commenting on the f**ked-upedness of society, that it almost feels necessary to squeeze every story into that framework. But really, at least in my mind anyway, any good horror—any good story if we're honest—necessarily filters through us and our understanding of and fears about society and the roles we're expected to play.
Just Like Mother is a chilling and at times gruesome look at motherhood, childhood trauma, and societal norms. It centers on Maeve, who has a traumatic past from her time in a fertility-based cult that she escaped as a child. Two decades later, everything starts going wrong in her life just as she reconnects with her cousin Andrea, who was also a survivor of the cult. Andrea is super successful and the head of a company that's all about motherhood; they hold workshops for expectant mothers and manufacture truly creepy dolls that mimic real babies. She takes Maeve in, giving her a place to stay at her excessive country estate, but of course, not all is as it seems.
Though it was a compelling read that kept me turning pages, the plot stuck faithfully to well-worn railroad tracks that were set up by Rosemary's Baby and others of the mother-horror subgenre. (view spoiler)[That book alone is such a serious spoiler for a major plot point in this one that I probably shouldn't even bring up the title. I kept exclaiming to my partner, "this bitch is so obviously getting Rosemary's Baby-ed!" (hide spoiler)] Though I think Maeve's character was thoughtfully crafted and she felt like someone with realistic reactions due to her traumatic past and narrowing resources, I just saw everything coming way before it happened. I kept waiting for the book to subvert my expectations, but it did not.
I was also hoping it would delve more into a modern social commentary, perhaps about diversity and the lack of representation in mothering and the parenting realm. The book also sets up a potentially interesting conversation about class and motherhood—the only people who are able to attend the workshops or buy the psuedobabies are rich and majority white women who have a lot of free time (aka partners who make enough money so they don't have to work). But it doesn't really get into that other than to make it clear that Maeve was backed into a corner financially as well as personally when she decides to stay with her cousin. Mostly the conversation stuck to the debate of whether having children is a duty or a choice—if you don't have kids you are denying your only reason for existing vs. it's my f**king decision, back off. It felt very black-and-white, almost stereotypical in its conversation around consent and motherhood.
For me, this is one of those books that is probably more interesting to talk about and pick through than experience, but either way, clearly motherhood is a cult.
My thanks to the publisher for my review copy....more
Amusement parks are so ripe for horror. I think it's the intense contrast (and yet striking similarity?) between the screams of enjoyment and those ofAmusement parks are so ripe for horror. I think it's the intense contrast (and yet striking similarity?) between the screams of enjoyment and those of terror. After all, what is the true difference between thrill and fear? In your body, they physically activate the same responses.
Hide follows Mack and an unlikely crew of other contestants who are all, for their own reasons, desperate to win $50,000 in a seven-day hide-and-seek competition. When I started reading, the plot definitely gave me Squid Games and Battle Royale vibes, but it's safe to say that this popular plot arc of deadly competitive games has been explored several many times in and out of the horror genre (do I even need to mention Hunger Games?). What does White do differently?
Honestly, it reads a bit like a slasher novel as people are dropping two by two and no one figures out what's going on until it's far too late. But it's also got the intrigue of a creature feature because we're all just sitting on the edges of our seats, waiting to see whatever or whoever it is that's out on a murderous rampage. It is also clearly influenced by the Greek myth of the minotaur and the labyrinth, so there's so interesting allusion potential there. There is also the familiar "sins of the parents" theme layered onto this story, something that White talks about in the acknowledgments as one of her reasons for writing.
Though the overall execution is a little rough and I felt like the last third of the plot is a bit hastily put together, this is a successful book in that it kept me glued to the page for most of a day. (I even had to take it in the car when we needed to leave the house because I couldn't put it down.) The main foible for me was that the backstory felt excessive—there are these diary entry segments that happen a couple of times throughout that did not feel necessary and pulled focus from the immediacy of what was going on in the story.
The physical edition of this book has an excellent full-color map of the Amazement Park on the endpapers, and I loved that touch. It offered some interesting foreshadowing and helped me visualize the maze of the park as Mack and the other characters explore.
My thanks to Del Rey for my review copy of this one....more
Audra (ouija.reads)
>
Books:
trope-cults
(46)
Loading...
