A Mortuary For Songs by Elizabeth Guilt -- A Novelette that Packs a Punch

Cover Image courtesy of
Graveside Press

    Don’t have time to read? Well this little piece, published by Graveside Press, is only 56 pages and, wow! Just wow. There is so much in this piece—nostalgia, heartbreak, love and loss, hope and horror. It’s a moving story about a high school love affair that takes a gut wrenchingly dark turn. I highly recommend it. If you have memories of high school and the hold that music had because of the way it spoke to you and helped you escape—everything— then this story will hit home.

    A young man finds friendship in a troubled young woman as they increasingly bond over the power of music. His love for her grows as they make and share endless mixtapes in their quests for meaning. But he can't seem to break past the thin shell that hides her real secrets. Until he does. And it's heartbreaking.

    If you need a taste of what this author--and this newish horror press has to offer, check out A Mortuary for Songs. You could find it at your favorite online book retailer. Or you can check it--and other merch--out at the Graveside Press website here: --GRAVESIDE PRESS MERCH-- 

Gag Order -- A blog entry that's NOT a book review but that is an exercise in free speech

Well, it has happened. I work for a small business in an office with six employees, two who are predominantly out in the field all day, so four people plus the on again off again appearance of the business owner, and today—today the three of us, out of four, were given a talk. The three of us out of four were asked to refrain from political discourse in the office because it makes the one (plus potentially the two who are not in the office for the majority of the day…) uncomfortable.

We are an office of predominantly women. Our boss is a fiscally conservative woman of the Silent Generation, and when she brought us together to have the talk, after the one who is also conservative in his political views left the office on a break, she visibly cringed because she had to bring up the topic. She prefaced it with her own admission to having screamed in frustration at the previous evening’s news—her, a conservative. But she “suggested” that we refrain from political conversation in order to keep anyone from being uncomfortable. Anyone. As in the one person not in attendance who voted for "the guy," the toddler president pushing the envelope like he's reached his terrible twos.

This is where we’re at, folks, being told to "be nice," because we, the "liberal snowflakes" of the past decade might offend the MAGA held-hostage-right for merely mentioning the shitstorm raining down upon us. And I get it to some extent—we have to work together, and HR is HR because no one in the workplace should have to endure unnecessary abuse. But mentioning the Superbowl, and asking about who got booed, or suggesting that the halftime show was good because of its artistically conveyed message, is not abuse. 

I've worked at this small business office for well over a decade, and you didn’t see me running to HR when the political right of the office dynamic was up in arms over "infringement" of their gun rights. Or when someone received a personal package there because they didn’t want it to be stolen off their porch. That package was an AR-15. We tolerated the discourse over the 2nd Amendment and the border. We even engaged in it with civility. So forgive me if I take offense to being told that I can't say that calling it the Gulf of America is ridiculous. And stupid. Or that Musk taking a financial hit of billions of dollars is the start of a hopeful day. My boss—who agrees with those two sentiments in particular, is suggesting that I zip it, because it makes that one employee uncomfortable.

And why is he uncomfortable? Are we objectifying him for his sexy physique, or demeaning him by telling him to shut up and get us our coffee? No. Are we belittling him or yelling at him or telling him that he’s not smart enough to understand? No. It is my opinion that he's uncomfortable because he can’t join the conversation. He can’t defend having voted for the wrong side, and we—who are simply talking about the previous night's outrageous news and shaking our heads in casual conversation, aren’t allowed to do that because it doesn’t provide a safe space for the guilt ridden minority. Or maybe he’s not as guilt ridden as we wish he would be, but he knows we are angry and he knows there is nothing he can do to muzzle us outside of work.

We will cater to the gag order. We will maintain our office silence; you know the kind, where the argument ends with her saying "fine," then following up with nothing. Nothing at all. Not one word. It's an uncomfortable silence, and it’s suffocating. That silence won’t bring the office together. Nor will it bring the nation together. Which is why I’m writing this because—surprise—I can’t stay silent.

And you shouldn’t either. Be safe out there, people. Also, be honored if someone calls you woke.

Horseman — by Christina Henry — A New Take on the Legend of Sleepy Hollow

 Author Christina Henry is not new to new takes on classic characters from classic tales of horror and fantasy. She's brought to life many stories that reflect inspiration from Alice in Wonderland, to The Little Mermaid, to Little Red Riding Hood and more. Horseman is my first read from Henry, and its story builds from the classic Sleepy Hollow tale.

Cover image courtesy of Berkley publishers

I was excited to read it. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving was required reading for young students born and raised in rural Central New York, but you don’t need to read it to be prepared for this story. Still, it doesn’t hurt to read the original first. Horseman takes place a generation later, where we meet an ancestor of the original characters, 14 year old Ben, who is being raised by their grandparents from the original story.

Main character Ben is a new teen who was born a girl but identifies as a boy. As you can imagine, this doesn’t sit well with the townsfolk of the late 18th/early 19th Century. Nor does it sit well with Ben's grandmother, Katrina Van Brunt—a key character from the original tale. Grandpa Van Brunt, or Brom Bones as he is known, is absolutely fine with it because young Ben reminds Brom of the son he lost—also Ben's father. As young Ben deals with identity, an old evil returns to the town—one that feeds on children by taking their heads.

I thought that author Henry’s folkloric take on the monster in the woods—the kludde—was well done, and the relationship between Ben and their grandparents was well developed. But I didn’t fully connect with the gender identity thread of the story. Ben’s struggle for acceptance was hit and miss for me. Sometimes the issue felt forced, yet sometimes it felt like the topic wasn’t full of enough depth. 

That having been said, I do appreciate its inclusion in the story. Women living as men did indeed exist in our long ago history, and I think it's important to recognize that. Henry's attempt to tackle the concept is a noble one, but the approach felt a bit blunt and modern within the context of the timeline, if that makes sense.

I’m not going to share spoilers, but there is also some villain monologuing that was a little bit annoying, and I wish that the villains had more dimension to them. But the story as a whole is quite clever and worth the read if you were ever a fan of the original tales of Sleepy Hollow.

Check out the links if you’re interested in the read: 

at Amazon       at Barnes and Noble       at Bookshop.org