Quick Book Review — I Died Too, But They Haven’t Buried Me Yet — by Ross Jeffery

Cover Image courtesy of Clash Books

Henry is an ass. I know, some book review sites will get their panties in a bunch (looking at you, Amazon) because I used a swear word, but Henry IS an ass, and every single character that inhabits Ross Jeffery’s story here would agree. Fuck, Henry would even agree. He is a seriously flawed MC; a misogynist, a homophobe and a past-his-prime ex-husband with some serious anger issues. So, if you don’t like seriously flawed main characters like Henry, this book won’t be for you. 

I love seriously flawed main characters—I mean, I wouldn’t make the time to hang out with ones as belligerent as Henry, but I love to read about them with the hope that they will grow. There are other reasons to give Henry a chance. He's grieving over the loss of his daughter. Twelve years have passed since her disappearance, and the case is essentially closed. But Henry is still grieving, and the process involves burying pieces of her on the anniversary of that disappearance. Well, not pieces of her, per say, but pieces of his memories of her. Because Henry is guilt ridden. For whatever reason, he blames himself for what he has come to accept as her death. He is also coping with the help of a therapy group whose members are equally—and inadequately grieving over the deaths of loved ones. So, Henry is in good company. And his best friend Josh, also grieving over the loss of his wife, is a standup guy. His compassion and tolerance helps make up for Henry's lack of it. 

Henry's daughter Elsie comes back to haunt him in terrifying ways with the help of one new member of the grievance club, and he's not a friend but most certainly may be a foe preying on Henry’s guilt. Josh is the one who tries to save Henry from traveling deeper down the road of despair as he tries to justify the strange happenings that he too has witnessed. 

I’m liking a lot of elements of this story. Jeffery brings the horror to the table. He manages grief like a grief ninja, and there are moments when I found myself truly invested in what happens next. But the storytelling pace did feel uneven at times. There are moments that dragged for me, like the three pages of trepidation that it took for Josh to open a letter. Once we get there, Jeffery delivers, but those three page beforehand…like pulling a loose thread that has no end. It gets aggravating. And speaking of Josh, I felt like the storyline involving his grief was left incomplete. But Henry’s story is the main story, and it comes to a heartbreaking end. 

I have to admit that I was not as surprised by the ending as I hoped I would be. But it’s a logical ending, an appropriately tragic ending, and it affords the opportunity for a grieving character to grow where he needs to grow. Another strong point, the characters rang true to those above mentioned flaws. Jeffery knows how to create solid characters whose actions and words ring true. Anyway, I'm rating this one a 3.75, which bumps it to a 4 here. I’m holding back from a higher rating mostly because of those drawn out passages that delayed getting to the literal punch of the horror. But the horror bits, once we got there, were worth it. Thank you to the author and publisher for the ARC.

Quick Book Review --The Girls in the Cabin by Caleb Stephens

Cover Image courtesy of Joffe Books

The Girls in the Cabin is a solid entry in the psychological horror/thriller realm with plenty of triggerry topics to be aware of, if you need mention of that. I'm going to try my best to avoid spoilers here, while touching on those potential triggers.

The gist of the story is this: A father and his two daughters, Emma (8) and Kayla (teenager) go on a camping trip after the death of their mother to cancer. The trip is an attempt to get past the loss and to bond as a family, but this is a challenge because of deeper, more complicated reasons. The girls have lost trust in their dad. Some reasons are legitimately his fault. Others are just a part of the grieving process, of losing their mom who is portrayed as the anchor of the family. And of course, a camping trip, the wilds...the youngest has an accident in the midst of a freak storm, and the only hope of saving her comes when they find refuge at a woman's home in the middle of nowhere. This is story one -- a grieving family trying to move on and to forgive each other in order to become a family again.

Then there's story two -- Clara, the owner of the house. Clara had an abusive upbringing that flags many triggers--rape, child abuse, domestic abuse, and author Stephens does not shy away from the details. She is broken, but she's a survivor--and maybe the friends and remaining family that she has is the glue that has kept her together. One of them is a confidante named Sydney, another girl who met with Clara when they were kids at a cabin in the woods. They formed a special bond during their childhood years, and Sydney grew to become Clara's protector--mostly from the awful men in Clara's life.

Enter Chris and his broken family into Clara's life where she still longs for the perfect family that was never hers to be had. Also enter, jaded and overprotective Sydney, and you have what could have been the makings of a romantic comedy. But this story is far from a romantic comedy, and the terror that awaits these two families comes together with increasing , graphic detail.

It's a tense and terrifying read, which is what it should be. Well done.

This may seem a weird criticism though, but I don't really like the book's title. Most of the story takes place on a dilapidated farm in a rundown, two story home. I guess it's true that these girls came together at a cabin during their childhood, but the cabin itself is from a memory and kind of insignificant. Maybe that's a whiny criticism on my part, but it still bugs me. A little.

Mental health issues also play a big part in this story (a trigger for some). Portraying mental health issues in horror can get tricky. It can come across as offensive for some, and while this story veers dangerously into cringey mental health issues territory (no spoilers on how here...), I'm happy to say that I felt like the author handled those issues with a fair level of compassion and understanding.

A solid, thriller with a lot of cringe worthy, tortuous horror. Oh, and one more thing. It passes the Bechdel test. Easily. It's amazing how often the horror I read seems to reach that bar.

Thanks to author Caleb Stephens and publisher Joffe Books for the ARC review copy of the book.