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Fathom is an entertaining horror novel once it gets going. The problem is that Cherie Priest spends the first 100 pages of her novel setting a scene, complete with pages upon pages of infodumps. One character will tell another character a story about a third character, for instance, or a character will have a prolonged recollection of a scene from his past. In addition, the time in which the novel is set does not become apparent until the last few chapters of the novel. A reader could easily conclude that the novel is set in the present day until the last 50 pages or so, when suddenly that appears not to be so, and all that has gone before must be reassessed. The Cherie Priest of Fathom does not seem to be the assured writer who turned out the superior Four and Twenty Blackbirds.

Priest starts her story (after a short initial chapter that has no meaning until much later in the book; really a prologue) with two strongly contrasting characters, Nia and Bernice. We learn quickly that the latter young woman is a spoiled rich kid with pronounced overtones of extreme violence, while the latter is a poor kid up from the farm who finds herself in over her head, both literally and figuratively, very quickly. It isn’t long before Bernice is in the arms of Arahab, a water witch, and Nia is turned into stone, a decorative figure in the garden of the home that was to have been her residence for a summer’s visit.

Arahab has plans for which she needs Bernice and Jose Gaspar, a sea pirate from eighteenth-century Spain. She wants to waken the long-sleeping Leviathan, which she hopes will destroy the modern human world and bring the old gods back to their prominence. Bernice and Gaspar are set lose in the world in order for Bernice to savor her new-found immortality and the free reign she has been given to inflict as much damage on humans as she likes. That is not their only purpose on land, however, for they have a task to accomplish to aid Arahab in her quest. This requires a trip to see Mr. Poppo, a metalworker with pronounced similarities to the god Vulcan, in Ybor City, Florida.

Another elemental has plans for Nia; she will not spend the rest of her life as sentient stone. For a time she is an object of worship to those who apparently think that she is a representation of Arahab – and who think, as well, that Arahab is interested in their worship. With the help of Sam, an insurance fire investigator, the nameless elemental “hatches” Nia to a new life in order that she might stop Arahab.

Once all the characters are gathered in Ybor City, this novel really begins to cook. Suddenly the status exposition and conversation with random bursts of action becomes all action, and dramatic, high-tension action at that. This is the point at which the underpinnings of the novel start to make sense, and a devoted reader will now find it hard to set this novel aside without finishing it.

One gets the impression that Fathom could have benefited from a final rewrite. Priest has what it takes to write original, exciting horror, as the last half of this novel demonstrates. Moving the characters into place, though, poses a difficulty for Priest here. It will be interesting to read her next book to see whether she can pull together her considerable skills for a truly consistent, frightening story.

In 1930s Florida, Nia visits her snobby cousin Bernice, who has been displaced from high society to live with her new step-father on a tiny island off Tampa. After witnessing Bernice’s murder of the step-father (possibly because of his sexual abuse), Nia flees her cousin and both end up in the ocean, where Bernice drowns and is transformed by an ancient water goddess into a super-powered servant in a plot to awaken the Leviathan, the primordial father of all the elemental gods, whose long slumber has allowed mankind to rise to supposed dominion over the world. Nia is saved from death by a mysterious elemental with dominion over decay, and spends the next four years as a human statue/cocoon before she hatches into a servant of the earth and must stop Bernice and the water goddess from destroying the human race.

Packed with accurate details about Florida in the Thirties; a hideous water-worshipping cult reminiscent of Lovecraft’s Innsmouth; José, a 19th century Spanish pirate serving as Bernice’s mentor; and a bumbling fire insurance agent, Fathom passes back and forth from dark fantasy to atmospheric horror in a gory and suspenseful ride. Told from the viewpoints of teenage Nia, and adults Sam and José, this book works more as dark fantasy a la Gaiman’s American Gods than horror, revealing too much of the unknown plot elements through José’s story and breaking the tension created by Sam and Nia’s narrations. However, the horror element works well when the latter two are telling the tale, and the final chapters build up a nicely tense scene of crisis and desperation as Nia and her companions race to prevent the wakening of the terrible world-destroyer Leviathan. The non-stop action, youthful protagonists, and “old gods” plot will appeal to many teens and both fans of Gaiman and H.P. Lovecraft. Extreme graphic violence and moderate profanity, mentions of sexual abuse. Ages 14+.

Water witches are ambitious folk, always climbing that corporate witch ladder, not above dirty little tricks to get a rung up. Like putting two tons of water witch keister in the face of an earth witch reaching for the same rung, or repeatedly stomping on the knuckles of a fire elemental; only briefly satisfied when they’ve finally been promoted to President of Evil Doings. The Head Honcho of Hell on Earth, the big fish in an evil ocean.

And once minted in their new corporate top-dog position, with their high-tech ergonomic faux leather chair, and eager minions who salivate way too much—that’s when they go for the big Evil, the one that shakes things up. The kind of Evil that ruins the world for the rest of us, the little people.

And they cackle, maliciously, while doing it, like a scheming investment banker huddling over spreadsheets.

Stepping into the Chief Evil Doer role in Cherie Priest’s excellent novel “Fathom” is Arahab, water witch and bane of humanity. See Arahab has a plan, an ambitious plan, one that humanity isn’t going to like very much. Since it means their complete and utter destruction.

But she needs help pulling it off; someone to do the legwork for her. Someone who can actually walk across the land, and isn’t confined to bodies of water. Can’t get much evil accomplished if you’re stuck in a swimming pool. So she needs minions. Evil minions. Quicker than you can say winged monkeys, an opportunity arises. Two girls, cousins, running along the beach, crash into the surf. Into her world. One cousin Arahab will choose, one she’ll leave behind. To be unexpectedly chosen by another.

Cherie Priest’s “Those Who Went Remain There Still” was an incredible surprise, a three-ton jack-in-the-box of a novel, and an introduction to a new and unique voice in the genre. A voice so impressive it immediately plunged me into a mini-Cherie Priest bender. A lost weekend of fantasy/horror debauchery spent splashing around in delicious southern-flavored monster stories, consuming “Fathom” as if it came packaged in dime bags. This is the good stuff.

Priest’s novels are familiar, but unique. How? Imagine Greek mythology—the terrible monsters roaming the land; the larger-than-life gods, always bickering, always meddling, trying to get a leg up on their rival deity, using ignorant humans to accomplish their ends. Now beer-batter that Greek mythology up, coat it real good, maybe give it a dash of Gothic seasoning, and throw it in some sizzling grease. And fry it up—Kentucky style. That’s Deep South mythology. That’s “Fathom.” That’s Cherie Priest. She’s Neil Gaiman—if Neil Gaiman wrote about hillbillies, and the monsters that burp them up.

“Fathom” feels short, almost a tease, to the point where the characters still have an air of mystery afterwards. They still have hidden layers to reveal, their exposure far from complete, a few clothing articles short of a Full Monty. It’s like a charming dinner party conversation, brief but utterly engaging, almost addictively so. A tantalizing slice of life of the most interesting person you can imagine. You desire to know more, to see more, and to go beyond the introductory chit-chat. To hear other stories. Please—you beg—more. The end bringing only one question: then what happens?

Last Word:
Cherie Priest has quickly become one of my favorite writers for her ability to deliver unique and engaging stories; stories that embody a Southern-flavored mythos, about country bumpkins and the things that bump them back. It’s one half Greek mythology, one half Southern Comfort; the resulting concoction percolated out of some backwater still. It’s both exciting, and scary. Like moonshine from Hell. Because one taste can change you forever. “Fathom” exemplifies this, proudly; chin high up in the air. Taste it. It’s worth it. ( )

I picked up this book because I really enjoyed Priest's Eden Moore series. That also meant I hadn't read anything about it -- including reviews or the inside cover summary. So, it was much to my surprise when I realized this book wasn't the horror story/ghost story that I had expected. Instead, it was something rather different and quite awesome. Priest tells us one story from multiple points of view. While in other books this might be tedious, it was not for Fathom. Instead, we learn to love the different characters, even when they do things we don't understand/agree with. I think this was what made the story so good. Instead of just focusing on a third person omniscient narrator or a single, first person point of view, we got variations on both of those. What Priest created was a stunning story set in a world not unlike our own, while at the same time, altogether different. She draws on unknown (including, though not necessarily central to the plot, ghosts) as main characters who are in a battle to save the human race. Priest does not shy away from heartache, violence and death, and that is one of the things that makes this book so good. ( )