How to Sell a Haunted House, by Grady Hendrix. Penguin Random House, 2023

The first thing I’ve got to say is this: I’ve always been creeped out by puppets, and some dolls give me goosebumps, too. But the review in Book Page made this horror novel sound interesting, and the library had it via download, so I went for it.

As soon as Louise Joyner turned of age, she fled the home she grew up in. She didn’t stop fleeing until she couldn’t go any further without falling into the Pacific Ocean, and there she stayed, making the occasional, obligatory, trip back home for a few days. It’s not that she doesn’t love her parents- she does, very much- but rather that she just cannot function around them. They are a family built on secrets, and her parents were slightly neglectful in small ways- her father obsessed by his academic work, and her mother with her Christian puppet ministry and constant doll making, stitching away with her door closed. When she gets a phone call that her parents are dead, both dying in a car accident, she is stunned. This means leaving her daughter with her ex, meeting with her brother that she doesn’t get along with, and spending time in the house she grew up in, none of which she wants to do. But she gets on the plane and goes back east. Maybe she can get in and out quickly, and be back to her normal life in a few days.

Things go bad right off the bat. It’s creepy being in her childhood home alone, and she and her brother get into it right away. The creepiness goes into the supernatural almost immediately. It’s one of those stories where you think “Oh, no, don’t do that!” all the way through. The creep is not *just* supernatural; there are jump scares, and there is a LOT of body horror around both Louise and her brother. Violence fills the book, the kind of violence that you wouldn’t think a person could survive- certainly not survive and get back up and fight some more. Believe me when I say the tension never lets up- no matter what the narrative tries to tell you. Four stars.                                                                          

Over My Dead Body: Unearthing the Hidden History of America’s Cemeteries, by Greg Melville. Abrams Press, 2022

The title pretty much says it all. He gives the history of not just the cemeteries, but of the area in general, as well as who designed the graveyard and the people who are buried there. Each chapter of the book is about a different American cemetery, starting with colonial Jamestown and ending with Hollywood Forever, and then devoting chapters to cremation, green cemeteries, and the way that a person can stay “alive” indefinitely via computer files and the internet.

One thing that comes up repeatedly is how the American Way of Death (as Jessica Mitford named it a few decades ago) is a money making machine. The plot purchase, the coffin, the embalming, the services, the maintenance of the gravesite… it all adds up tremendously. And they don’t tell you that most of it isn’t necessary. You don’t need a mahogany and brass coffin that’s better made than many people’s furniture. You don’t need a concrete vault in most cases. Embalming isn’t required in most jurisdictions, unless the body is being held for over a certain amount of time. But it’s easy to lay a guilt trip on a grieving family- “It shows your respect for your father!” “Don’t you love your mother enough to buy the very best?”- and upsell them.

Another item that comes up several times is the utter disrespect for existing graves when the well to do or those in power (usually the same thing…) wanted to use the land for something else. The early white colonists rode roughshod over Native American graveyards, whether it was for building, their own graveyards, or for agriculture. The poor had their graveyards built over in more than one place. A graveyard for African-Americans in New York had Central Park built over it- the grave markers were moved, but the bodies weren’t.

The book is well written, presented as a travelogue; anywhere the author travels, he tries to call in at any graveyards in the area, especially well known ones. His family finds this rather tiresome, given that they don’t share his enthusiasm for cemeteries (Hollywood Forever was found more acceptable than most, but just barely). Anyone who likes to walk through graveyards will enjoy this book.

 

Haven, by Emma Donoghue. Hachette Book Group, 2022.

In the 7^th century, an admired scholar and holy man comes to visit a rural monastery. That night, he has a vision; he and two fellow monks sail down the river and out into the western ocean, seeking an isolated island to found a new monastery on. Brother Artt immediately acts on this vison; he requests young Trian and old Cormac as his helpers. Trian was given to the monastery as a child- as a slave? It isn’t made clear- and he is from people who live close to the water- he knows sailing and fishing and exploring. Cormac is an old subsistence farmer and mason; he knows gardening and foraging and building. He lost his family to the plague.

The three of them set sail on the river in a tiny boat made of skins. They all have what they feel is necessary to live on their own, but the boat is overloaded and so Cormac and Trian are forced to discard important tools and supplies. Artt’s Bibles and other books, though, all stay on board. Artt truly believes he has been chosen by God, and that God will provide everything they need. If it doesn’t appear in their environment, obviously God doesn’t think they need it.

After going down the river for several days, the trio comes to the open sea. Trian can sail, but mostly they go where the currants take them. Any place that has people anywhere near is rejected. Then they come across a couple of islands, a huge, bare rock now called Skellig Michael. Covered with birds but obviously untouched by humans, Artt declares this as their new home. They set about finding shelter for the holy books (but not themselves), finding food and fresh water, and setting up an altar. Trian and Cormac both have good survival skills, but, while Artt is very educated, he’s ignorant as to what it actually takes to survive. He puts Trian, who has been fishing and catching birds to eat, to copying part of the Bible. He puts Cormac, who has been foraging and starting a scraggly garden, to building a church of stone. How will they survive come autumn and winter?

Even though the story is almost completely set outside- they have no real shelter- it’s oddly claustrophobic. They are so closely bound by Artt’s demands- Trian and Cormac have taken vows of obedience to Artt- that it feels like they can’t breathe. It’s a very tense tale, as everything that can go wrong, does. By the end, the tension is almost electric.

The writing is gorgeous. The descriptions of the surroundings and their tasks is absorbing. It doesn’t seem like three people with such limited activities could be interesting, but it is. Almost totally character driven, the Brothers come vividly to life. The whole story is a composition in gray and blue, the colors of both the landscape in which they live and of their dispositions. I know some have found this book boring, because of the limited action, but I couldn’t put it down.