Hex by Jenni Fagan | Book Review

Hex by Jenni Fagan
Published by Polygon, 2022
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Set on the eve of a young woman’s execution in 16th century Scotland, this is a look at how fear and hearsay were used as tools of oppression.

The narrative primarily focusses on Geillis as she reflects on her short life, recounting how and why she came to be accused of witchcraft and sentenced to hang for it. There is, however, a thread of magical realism that runs throughout, which sees Iris, a woman from the present day, seemingly travelling through time and space to comfort Geillis in her prison cell on her final night, before transforming into a crow so she can watch over her.

Thematically, this connection between two women across the years is used to comment on the fact that, while witch trials are a thing of the past, misogyny and abuses of power are still very much alive. While this resonates, and I remained intrigued at the time, on reflection I find it a little counterproductive. While Geillis is poignantly stoic in her declaration of innocence, determined to denounce the men who have unjustly wronged her, Iris’s role within the story suggests that magic and witches are in fact real, somewhat undermining the book’s commentary on the harm of lies and corruption.

Aside from feeling a little too on-the-nose at times, the book is nonetheless well written, and it manages to get you invested in its characters and pack an emotional punch despite its relatively short length.

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi

Warsan Shire, ND Stevenson, & Liam Konemann | Mini Reviews

The Fire Never Goes Out by ND Stevenson
Published by Harper, 2020
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

These slice of life diary entries start out chronicling life as a young artist suddenly propelled to success, but they gradually transition into an honest, relatable look at burnout, exploring your identity, and dealing with mental health issues.

Stevenson’s work has such a charm and warmth to it, and while there’s an endearing vulnerability on show throughout, the themes of gender, sexuality, and mental health are only ever really explored at surface level, due to the nature of the graphic memoir’s structure.

---

The Appendix by Liam Konemann
Published by 404 Ink, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Personal yet self-aware, this is a concise look at life as a trans, gay man in modern Britain. There’s a particular focus on representation within the media, the idea of “passing”, and the difficult road to acceptance and happiness.

Despite the tagline, and the more hopeful conclusion, it’s worth noting this isn’t always a joyous read. Konemann is frank in his portrayal of trans/homophobia, but his articulate, approachable, warm style certainly soften the blow.

Affirming for those who’ve experienced similar prejudice, and enlightening for those who haven’t, this is a great little read, with much to say despite its deceptive page count.

---

Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head by Warsan Shire
Published by Random House Trade, 2022
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

A bold, powerful, and unflinching look at race, womanhood, and identity. Shire has a real knack for striking imagery that hits you in the gut, capturing all the beauty and heartache of the immigrant experience, a longing for home, and the perils of navigating the world as a young Black woman.

Between this full-length collection and her previous pamphlet, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth, Shire is fast becoming one of my favourite poets.

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi

Poetry & Nonfiction | Three Mini Reviews

Release the Beast by Bimini Bon Boulash
Published by Viking, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Cynics will likely assume this to be a quick cash grab designed to capitalise on Bimini’s meteoric rise to fame following their appearance on Drag Race UK, but it’s so much more than that.

Bimini is smart, articulate, and compassionate. Yes, there are fun, lighter moments, but they tackle a number of important topics, including gender identity, politics, sexuality, and substance abuse. Drawing on personal anecdotes, they always adopt a self-reflective, intersectional approach to their views; their warmth and wisdom emphasising the importance of community among queer people.

---

My Spirit Burns Through This Body by Akwaeke Emezi
Published by The Paris Review, 2020
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

In this short but powerful essay, Emezi paints a harrowing picture of life with a chronic illness; the physical and mental ramifications of suppressed trauma.

They write with honesty and flair, capturing the frustration of a disconnect between what the mind wants and what the body can cope with. Ultimately, it’s about learning to be kind and patient with yourself, by recognising your own boundaries and living with rather than against the pain.

---

Summon by Elizabeth Ridout
Published by Myriad Editions, 2020
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

As with many poetry collections, I found the pieces here pretty hit or miss, but the highlights made it well worth checking out. Rideout’s regular use of bold, visceral imagery ensured every piece was interesting to read, even if I didn’t necessarily connect on a personal level.

My favourite lines, from Dinner Table: “By addressing these divides, we are embroidering / in red along the branches of the family tapestry, / deadheading bloodlines that were dripping / down the generations and on to your tablecloth.”

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield
Published by Picador, 2022
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Part love story, part sci-fi chiller, this follows Miri, whose wife Leah has just returned from a botched deep-sea mission that left her stranded in a claustrophobic underwater vessel for months. Though initially relieved to have her back, it soon becomes clear that something about Leah has been changed by her experiences, her behaviour and appearance becoming increasingly strange.

I love the setup for this novel, which has all the ingredients to be my ideal read: queer, speculative, and creepy. It’s worth noting, therefore, that I had very high expectations heading in. For me, the book is definitely at its strongest when it flirts with the realms of body horror, but there was always a sense that the author was holding back in this respect, and I found myself waiting for a descent into full-blown horror that sadly never came.

For the most part, the book reads as an allegory for loving someone who has been changed due to illness – with obvious parallels being drawn with Miri’s mother, who died from an unspecified illness that seems to be dementia, leaving Miri with a lot of internalised health anxiety. Armfield asks poignant questions about what it means to love someone who is ill: the pain of watching them gradually slip away; the denial and frustration that can lead you to decline help and isolate yourself from others; the bittersweet power of past memories; and the pain of letting go.

I appreciate the way the narrative mirrors the protagonists’ experiences of feeling trapped, and being confronted by the unknown: Leah, quite literally trapped at the bottom of the ocean, and Miri, weighed down by the emotional strain of her wife’s eventual return. There are definitely times when the story lags somewhat, trudging slowly around the same ideas multiple times, but this soon feels deliberate, emphasizing the monotony felt by many of those living with – or caring for someone with – a chronic, degenerative illness.

Not quite the knockout favourite I hoped it would be, this was still a compelling read that explores the unique and shattering pain of grieving for someone who is technically not quite gone, as Miri learns to accept her grief, and push beyond her own fears to do right by those she loves.

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi

T.C. Eglington & Claire Keegan | Mini Reviews

Thistlebone Book One by T.C. Eglington & Simon Davis
Published by 2000 AD, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Sumptuously rich and detailed artwork really sells the unnerving imagery and threatening atmosphere in this tale of ritualistic folk horror. Our heroine is the survivor of a now defunct cult, returning to the scene of her torment 20 years later, after ominous messages suggest the group has been revived.

Madness, folklore, mass hysteria, and PTSD all play a part in the narrative, which builds in tension throughout. Reaching boiling point in the closing pages, we’re left horrified and wanting more in equal measure, perfectly setting up the promise of Book 2. While it doesn’t offer anything hugely new to the genre, it’s perfectly solid and satisfying.

---

Foster by Claire Keegan
Published by Faber & Faber, 2010
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Claire Keegan has a brilliant knack for exploring the power of what remains unsaid. Though it comes in just shy of 100 pages, this novella has such emotional depth and beautifully drawn characters who feel almost painfully real.

Our narrator is a young girl who, in the opening pages, is taken by her father and left with a couple who live on a farm in rural Ireland. As she comes to know true affection for the first time, and uncovers a terrible secret, what follows is an understated yet deeply moving exploration of family, loneliness, class, grief, and love. Keegan writes sparingly and does an excellent job of capturing a child’s naïve worldview, and yet there’s a lyrical quality to her prose that paints the scene and elevates the reading experience significantly.

While the climax delivers a well-earned gut punch, and I so admire Keegan’s ability to tell such a rounded and affecting story with so few words, I do wish we could have stayed with these characters just a little longer, to further explore the implications of the final moments. Still, it says something in and of itself if my only complaint is that I wanted more.

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi

The Antarctica of Love by Sara Stridsberg | Book Review

The Antarctica of Love by Sara Stridsberg
Translated from the Swedish by Deborah Bragan-Turner
Published by Quercus Books, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Though this is in many ways a quiet, ruminative character study, it kept me utterly enthralled. It opens, as so many books do, with the violent murder of a young woman, but it immediately subverts every trope associated with the dead-girl-as-mere-plot-device.

Inni is exactly the kind of person who falls through the cracks of society, and whose death is flippantly portrayed in media time and time again: a drug addict living on the street who has turned to prostitution to scrape by. Taking on an omniscience, she narrates the novel herself, reclaiming her story in a way she never could while alive. Weaving back and forth through time, she reflects on every decision and heartache that led her to the point of her death, and watches over those she has left behind as they carry on without her – namely: her parents, her former lover, and her two children, both of whom were taken into care before she died. The story always returns to the scene of her death, however, which throughout the novel is explored in excruciating, harrowing detail. Despite the complexity of her character, and a life of love, loss, trials, and tribulations, it is this single moment out with her control that is unfairly destined to be her legacy.

The prose is stunning, with the translation having been handled seamlessly. In some instances, it may have seemed too dense or flowery, but the almost dreamlike quality is perfectly suited to the novel’s tone of melancholy and contemplation.

A shattering portrait of addiction, grief, the impact of trauma, and the idea of familial inheritance, this heartfelt novel and its painfully well-realised protagonist will stick with me for quite some time.

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi

The Madwomen’s Ball by Victoria Mas | Book Review

The Madwomen’s Ball by Victoria Mas
Translated from the French by Frank Wynn
Published by Doubleday, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Though the narrative arc follows a fairly familiar and predictable trajectory, this historical novel is an absorbing look at the treatment of women, particularly with regards to their mental health. Set in 19^th century Paris, we follow the perspectives of two women: Genevieve, a senior nurse working in an asylum for troubled women, and Eugenie, a 19-year-old entrusted to the asylum for claiming to communicate with the dead. Initially at loggerheads, Eugenie gives Genevieve reason to believe her claims are perfectly sane, and the two form an unlikely alliance.

Chiefly, the novel is concerned with power, particularly in the context of gender and class. It comments on the ways in which society was structured to keep women “in their place”. This includes how asylums were often a front for removing anyone bold enough to defy the role ascribed to them, but also the ways men in healthcare exploited the women around them – both nurses and patients alike.

The prose is nice without feeling overwrought, and this helps to evoke the era while remaining highly readable. Still, certain threads felt underdeveloped, resulting in some untapped potential in both the plot and its themes. Though it may seem strange to say so, given it is in many ways the driving force of the novel, the supernatural element felt largely extraneous. The same, very real historical context could have been explored without it, and the notion of women being unfairly ignored, silenced, and incarcerated could arguably have been driven home with greater power had Mas chosen to go down a more accurate, believable route.

All that said, this was an enjoyable read with hints of the gothic that certainly appealed. While it could have delved deeper, it left me eager to see where Mas takes her writing next.

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi

Under Her Skin & Chasm | Mini Reviews

Under Her Skin, edited by Lindy Ryan & Toni Miller
Published by Black Spot Books, 2022
Rating: ⭐ ⭐

In principle, this sounds like a perfect read for me: an anthology of poetry by women in horror, exploring their experiences of gender and identity. It’s possible my own high expectations contributed to my ultimate lukewarm response, but sadly I felt there was little here to push the boundaries of either horror or feminist writing.

I definitely appreciate how inclusive the project is, with cis, trans, and non-binary femmes representing various facets of womanhood. While there are some definite gems peppered throughout (I particularly admire pieces that focus on the horror women often inflict upon their own bodies as a result of societal pressures), I never felt particularly inspired to seek out more work from any of the featured writers. Beyond that, most of the pieces blur together somewhat due to repetition in tone and imagery. It feels cohesive as a collection of works in that respect, but lacking in dynamism.

I love what the book wants to achieve, and there are certainly glimmers of success on that front, but sadly the selection feels too bloated and one-note in its perspective and approach.

Thank you to the publisher for a free advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.

---

Chasm by Dorothea Tanning
Published by Virago, 2019 (first published 2001)
Rating: ⭐ ⭐

Following a group of relative strangers assembled at a mansion built in the desert, Tanning does a great job of creating a cloying atmosphere and a sense of inevitable tragedy. It certainly kept me intrigued, and I found a few scenes strangely compelling, but it was all just a little too thematically vague and lacking cohesion for me. Narrative tangents and moments of flowery language bogged it down, and sadly I was left underwhelmed.

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi

Chouette by Claire Oshetsky | Book Review

Chouette by Claire Oshetsky
Published by Virago, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

This strange and hypnotic novel functions simultaneously as the fable-esque story of a woman convinced she has given birth to an owl-human hybrid, and a powerful allegory about difference, disability, mental health, and motherhood.

Oshetsky does an excellent job of showing how all-consuming parenthood can be, particularly if your child has severe disabilities and/or disfigurements that mark them out as “other”. Fiercely protective of her daughter, our protagonist must continually fight to allow her the chance to embrace her true nature, rebelling against constant pressure to seek out treatments and therapies to help her better integrate. Where she sees wonder and a unique beauty to be celebrated, society sees a problem; something to be feared, fixed, or at best, ignored.

Thanks to the tone established by Oshetsky’s prose and the story’s fantastical elements, the majority of the book takes on the quality of a dark, modern fairy tale. Later in the narrative, however, threads on “help” offered as a means of self-gratification, and the dangers of science overruling our own humanity, add further depth and real-world emotional resonance that ensure it stays grounded.

The skill of the novel’s construction, and the well-implemented use of an unreliable narrator, allow readers the freedom to treat the magical realism elements as literally or as figuratively as they wish. There is equal narrative and thematic interest to hold your attention either way.

While I felt the ending itself was pitched a little too ambiguously in terms of what the author wanted to say, the reading experience as a whole was gripping – all the more so for how unashamedly odd it is. I’m sure this singular read will stick with me for quite some time, and I’m excited to see what Oshetsky writes next.

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi

Jackie Morris & Zara Slattery | Mini Reviews

The Wild Swans by Jackie Morris
Published by Unbound, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Rather than reimagining the story, as most modern takes on fairy tales do, this is very much the classic Hans Christian Andersen story, retold in Morris’ own words, accompanied by her stunning watercolour illustrations. Sticking faithfully to the original text, any small changes and additions feel well placed, fleshing out the characters and adding greater emotional depth by exploring their motivations, especially where the “wicked stepmother” trope is concerned.

It stands fairly unique among the fairy tale canon; our princess very much the heroine of the piece as opposed to a damsel, and the primary focus on familial love over romance, as Eliza strives to outsmart a vengeful queen and save her brothers. It’s not easy to maintain the inherent air of whimsy and magic that comes with a fairy tale throughout a full-length text without it feeling overly twee, but Morris pulls it off. Her prose is simple yet lyrical, the perfect accompaniment to her artwork, which is as ethereal and enchanting as ever.

Some examples of the book’s artwork

---

Coma by Zara Slattery
Published by Myriad Editions, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

This graphic memoir recounts a period of 15 days in 2013 when Slattery was placed in a drug-induced coma, after contracting a life-threatening bacterial infection that aggressively attacks the skin and muscle. The account flits back and forth between events in the “real world”, where her husband’s diary entries explain the efforts being made my medical staff to save Slattery’s life, while he looks after their children, and the hallucinogenic nightmares experienced by Slattery throughout her coma as she fights to regain consciousness.

The contrast between monochrome (real world events) and kaleidoscopic colour (Slattery’s nightmares) works really well to emphasize both the bewilderment the author experienced, and the necessary persistence of mundane, domestic life for her loved ones, despite them living through a time of such heightened anxiety and emotion.

Slattery’s story is a great example of how people can rally together during a crisis, and how illness is so often a shared experience. Being written and published some years on from the incident, however, I felt it would have benefitted from a little more reflection on her subsequent recovery, both physical and mental.

Still, this is a striking read that highlights a little-known medical condition, while showcasing the unique strengths of the graphic novel form.

---

Connect: Twitter | Etsy | Goodreads | Ko-fi