A Murder of Crows: Seventeen Tales of Monsters and the Macabre
by DeAnna Knippling 
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"What everyone want to see," the crow said, "is someone getting eaten. Preferably someone who deserves it." Out in the middle of nowhere in the Great Plains of the United States, it doesn't matter where you are, really, or even what year it is. All that matters is whether you have enough to eat before the winter sets in. Whether your family loves you or shuns you, and whether or not you have a way to keep from going mad, those things don't matter so much. The girl has little else but show more stories. But the main problem is that her mother is going mad, mad in a way that wrecks the lives and sanity of everyone around her, and may even warp reality itself. The house creaks and groans and twists, as the corruption consumes everyone-almost everyone-within. Fortunately, the crows find the girl outside and alone. And they love stories. The monsters are coming. At least the little girl has never been very Seventeen murderous, ravenous tales told by the crows, to help heal a girl without food, without love, and now without home. Unless her mother comes to reclaim. show lessTags
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(Full disclosure: I received a free e-copy of this book for review though Library Thing's Member Giveaways program. Also, trigger warning for rape.)
It was we crows who took your daughter, in case you were wondering. She didn’t run away. We had--I had--been watching her for some time, listening to her tell stories in the grass behind the house. She would sit near the chicken coop and watch the white chickens pick at the dirt, pulling up fat worms and clipping grasshoppers out of the air as they jumped toward the fields.
Some of them were good stories. Some of them were bad. But that’s what decided it, even more than any issue of mercy or salvation or anything else. Crows are, for one, possessive of stories. And show more also by then I had pecked almost all the elders into coming to listen to her at least once, except Facunde, who was then mad and responded to nobody’s pecking, not that I had had the courage to exactly take my beak to her. “She is like a daughter to me,” I had pled with the others. “She listens.” They laughed at me, they rattled their beaks, they came and heard her and were convinced, or at least bullied into pretending they were convinced.
We took her on the same cold winter day that you traded your son to the fairies, the wind blowing in cold gray threads, ruffling our feathers. It had snowed a few days before that, a storm that had killed your husband, or so it was said. The wind had snatched the snow out onto the prairie, hiding it in crevices. It had been a dry year, and even though it was still too cold to melt the snow, the thirsty dirt still found places to tuck it away in case of a thaw.
I stamped my feet on a sleeping branch while the others argued. Some argued that we should wait for spring. So many things are different, in the spring. But old Loyolo insisted: no, if we were to take the child, we would have to take her then and there: there had been at least one death already, and no one had heard the babe’s cry for hours.
We covered the oak trees, thousands of us, so many that the branches creaked and swayed under our weight. I don’t know if you noticed us, before it was too late. You were, it is to be admitted, busy.
The girl played on the swings, rocking herself back and forth in long, mournful creaks. She wore a too-small padded jacket and a dress decorated in small flowers. She was so clean that she still smelled of soap. Her feet were bare under their shoes, the skin scabbed and dry, almost scaly. Her wrists were pricked with gooseflesh, and her hair whipped in thin, colorless threads across her face as the wind caught it. The house had the smell of fresh death, under the peeling paint and the dusty windows, and seemed to murmur with forgotten languages, none of which were languages of love or tenderness. Afternoon was sinking into evening. The girl’s breath smelled like hunger.
“Now!” called old Loyolo, at some signal that not even I could have told you. And thousands of birds swept out of the trees toward her. From the middle of it, I can tell you, it seemed a kind of nightmare. Wings in my face, claws in my feathers. The sun was temporarily snuffed out, it was a myriad of bright slices reflected off black wings...
###
DeAnna Knippling's A Murder of Crows is, at its heart, a love letter to the art of storytelling. A collection of short stories which forms the backbone of a larger narrative, the sixteen tales here - macabre, horrific, sometimes surreal - are shared with a grieving young girl by the murder (flock) of crows who rescued her from her wicked, murderous mother. (Crows being both connoisseurs and collectors of the oral tradition, natch.) Their story, told between the lines and in the margins of the other sixteen tales, is the seventeenth piece in this delightfully dark anthology.
The collection starts off on an impossibly strong note with "Be Good." (I say "impossibly" because none of the other stories, as lovely as some of them undoubtedly are, quite lived up to the high expectations I had after reading - no, devouring - "Be Good.") When a tornado approaches "the Home" near Laurie Lee's house, threatening to annihilate it - and the many "delinquent" kids imprisoned inside - the young girl wonders why her evil, kitten-killing cousin Tim couldn't be trapped there. Instead, her friend Martin - sent there by his parents for being gay - is one of the children who will pay the ultimate price for the adults' warped ideas about "good" and "bad," "wrong" and "right."
I also quite enjoyed "Treif," a post-apocalyptic tale in which humans and zombies coexist under a fragile, tenuous truce. Having tamed some humans so thoroughly that they've evolved into a different creature entirely - vaguely bovine animals called behemah - the zombies mostly leave the residents of Goodland alone. But when there's an unexpected zombie outbreak within its borders, all eyes turn to the traveling storyteller Nitzaniya - and the illicit trief (smoked behemah meat) she smuggled into the town. Like the individual, numbered stories themselves, "Treif" turns out to be a story-within-a-story - just one example of the many intricate layers to be discovered, peeled back, and savored in A Murder of Crows.
"Inappropriate Gifts" is one of many tales that deals with rape and rape culture. In a misguided (but heartfelt) attempt to protect her granddaughter - and then great-granddaughter - from the unwanted advances of men, a dying woman gives her a magical apron which delays the onset of puberty and just generally makes sex repellent to the recipient. Of course, this does nothing to prevent sexual harassment or assault - because it's never the victim's fault.
Perhaps in recognition that women belonging to other marginalized groups (racial and ethnic minorities; those with physical or mental disabilities; lesbian, bisexual, queer, and transgender women) are more likely to face abuse, "The Strongest Thing About Me is Hate" features a Native American ("half-breed," her schoolmates taunted) protagonist named Lisa. Tired of the constant sexual harassment endured on the ride to and home from school (rape is also hinted at), she finally decides to confront her tormenter - just as the bus is attacked by a group of monsters. Lisa is the sole survivor, though she and her family will never be the same.
Knippling also addresses male-on-male rape with "The Edge of the World," in which a gay man named Roberto - kidnapped and abused by the faeries as a kid, but now all grown up - refuses to steal another changeling-to-be to take his place.
The animal lover in me got a kick out of "Lord of Pigs," a sort of farmed animal revenge tale. Upon discovering that Uncle Chuck's herd of pigs killed him (or did they?), little Deanna attempts to ferry the group to safety before the adults discover their crime and sentence them all to death. However, one brave sow refuses to run, readily trading her life for the freedom of her family. Pigs rock, okay.
While these are among my favorites, the remainder of the stories are enjoyable enough; most I rated 3 stars or above, with a few 2-star stories sprinkled throughout. Weirdly enough, I feel like the whole is overall greater than the sum of its parts. Each story is told not just to comfort a grieving girl - although the storytelling certainly begins on this note - but to impart a specific lesson or moral, suggest a course of action, or even offer a glimpse into the mind of the storyteller. As a result the audience comes to appreciate the intricacies of the titular murder of crows, including each member's personality and life experiences. The crows truly steal the show.
Of those stories I didn't care for, I can't say it's necessarily due to any shortcomings in Knippling's writing; rather, these veered towards the more surreal and cryptic, and I wasn't always able to decipher the meaning embedded within.
When taken as a whole, A Murder of Crows isn't diverse enough that I'd categorize it as a diverse book (as in "we need diverse books"); but a number of stories are noteworthy for featuring gay protagonists ("The Edge of the World"; "Be Good"); Native American characters ("The Strongest Thing About Me is Hate"; "The Vengeance Quilt"); and those with physical disabilities (for example, the grandmother in "Inappropriate Gifts" suffers from Bell's Palsy and is self-conscious about how it affects her speech). And of course "Be Good" is just a shiny, lovely (but heartbreakingly so), gay-friendly gem.
One thing I especially enjoy about Knippling is her ability to turn a phrase with artistic ease; the more lyrical lines shine even brighter when juxtaposed with Knippling's copious use of obscenities, particularly from the mouths of babes. The result is as beautiful as it is profane, a style which suits the stories damn near perfectly.
http://www.easyvegan.info/2015/01/19/a-murder-of-crows-by-deanna-knippling/ show less
(Full disclosure: I received a free e-copy of this book for review though Library Thing's Member Giveaways program. Also, trigger warning for rape.)
It was we crows who took your daughter, in case you were wondering. She didn’t run away. We had--I had--been watching her for some time, listening to her tell stories in the grass behind the house. She would sit near the chicken coop and watch the white chickens pick at the dirt, pulling up fat worms and clipping grasshoppers out of the air as they jumped toward the fields.
Some of them were good stories. Some of them were bad. But that’s what decided it, even more than any issue of mercy or salvation or anything else. Crows are, for one, possessive of stories. And show more also by then I had pecked almost all the elders into coming to listen to her at least once, except Facunde, who was then mad and responded to nobody’s pecking, not that I had had the courage to exactly take my beak to her. “She is like a daughter to me,” I had pled with the others. “She listens.” They laughed at me, they rattled their beaks, they came and heard her and were convinced, or at least bullied into pretending they were convinced.
We took her on the same cold winter day that you traded your son to the fairies, the wind blowing in cold gray threads, ruffling our feathers. It had snowed a few days before that, a storm that had killed your husband, or so it was said. The wind had snatched the snow out onto the prairie, hiding it in crevices. It had been a dry year, and even though it was still too cold to melt the snow, the thirsty dirt still found places to tuck it away in case of a thaw.
I stamped my feet on a sleeping branch while the others argued. Some argued that we should wait for spring. So many things are different, in the spring. But old Loyolo insisted: no, if we were to take the child, we would have to take her then and there: there had been at least one death already, and no one had heard the babe’s cry for hours.
We covered the oak trees, thousands of us, so many that the branches creaked and swayed under our weight. I don’t know if you noticed us, before it was too late. You were, it is to be admitted, busy.
The girl played on the swings, rocking herself back and forth in long, mournful creaks. She wore a too-small padded jacket and a dress decorated in small flowers. She was so clean that she still smelled of soap. Her feet were bare under their shoes, the skin scabbed and dry, almost scaly. Her wrists were pricked with gooseflesh, and her hair whipped in thin, colorless threads across her face as the wind caught it. The house had the smell of fresh death, under the peeling paint and the dusty windows, and seemed to murmur with forgotten languages, none of which were languages of love or tenderness. Afternoon was sinking into evening. The girl’s breath smelled like hunger.
“Now!” called old Loyolo, at some signal that not even I could have told you. And thousands of birds swept out of the trees toward her. From the middle of it, I can tell you, it seemed a kind of nightmare. Wings in my face, claws in my feathers. The sun was temporarily snuffed out, it was a myriad of bright slices reflected off black wings...
###
DeAnna Knippling's A Murder of Crows is, at its heart, a love letter to the art of storytelling. A collection of short stories which forms the backbone of a larger narrative, the sixteen tales here - macabre, horrific, sometimes surreal - are shared with a grieving young girl by the murder (flock) of crows who rescued her from her wicked, murderous mother. (Crows being both connoisseurs and collectors of the oral tradition, natch.) Their story, told between the lines and in the margins of the other sixteen tales, is the seventeenth piece in this delightfully dark anthology.
The collection starts off on an impossibly strong note with "Be Good." (I say "impossibly" because none of the other stories, as lovely as some of them undoubtedly are, quite lived up to the high expectations I had after reading - no, devouring - "Be Good.") When a tornado approaches "the Home" near Laurie Lee's house, threatening to annihilate it - and the many "delinquent" kids imprisoned inside - the young girl wonders why her evil, kitten-killing cousin Tim couldn't be trapped there. Instead, her friend Martin - sent there by his parents for being gay - is one of the children who will pay the ultimate price for the adults' warped ideas about "good" and "bad," "wrong" and "right."
I also quite enjoyed "Treif," a post-apocalyptic tale in which humans and zombies coexist under a fragile, tenuous truce. Having tamed some humans so thoroughly that they've evolved into a different creature entirely - vaguely bovine animals called behemah - the zombies mostly leave the residents of Goodland alone. But when there's an unexpected zombie outbreak within its borders, all eyes turn to the traveling storyteller Nitzaniya - and the illicit trief (smoked behemah meat) she smuggled into the town. Like the individual, numbered stories themselves, "Treif" turns out to be a story-within-a-story - just one example of the many intricate layers to be discovered, peeled back, and savored in A Murder of Crows.
"Inappropriate Gifts" is one of many tales that deals with rape and rape culture. In a misguided (but heartfelt) attempt to protect her granddaughter - and then great-granddaughter - from the unwanted advances of men, a dying woman gives her a magical apron which delays the onset of puberty and just generally makes sex repellent to the recipient. Of course, this does nothing to prevent sexual harassment or assault - because it's never the victim's fault.
Perhaps in recognition that women belonging to other marginalized groups (racial and ethnic minorities; those with physical or mental disabilities; lesbian, bisexual, queer, and transgender women) are more likely to face abuse, "The Strongest Thing About Me is Hate" features a Native American ("half-breed," her schoolmates taunted) protagonist named Lisa. Tired of the constant sexual harassment endured on the ride to and home from school (rape is also hinted at), she finally decides to confront her tormenter - just as the bus is attacked by a group of monsters. Lisa is the sole survivor, though she and her family will never be the same.
Knippling also addresses male-on-male rape with "The Edge of the World," in which a gay man named Roberto - kidnapped and abused by the faeries as a kid, but now all grown up - refuses to steal another changeling-to-be to take his place.
The animal lover in me got a kick out of "Lord of Pigs," a sort of farmed animal revenge tale. Upon discovering that Uncle Chuck's herd of pigs killed him (or did they?), little Deanna attempts to ferry the group to safety before the adults discover their crime and sentence them all to death. However, one brave sow refuses to run, readily trading her life for the freedom of her family. Pigs rock, okay.
While these are among my favorites, the remainder of the stories are enjoyable enough; most I rated 3 stars or above, with a few 2-star stories sprinkled throughout. Weirdly enough, I feel like the whole is overall greater than the sum of its parts. Each story is told not just to comfort a grieving girl - although the storytelling certainly begins on this note - but to impart a specific lesson or moral, suggest a course of action, or even offer a glimpse into the mind of the storyteller. As a result the audience comes to appreciate the intricacies of the titular murder of crows, including each member's personality and life experiences. The crows truly steal the show.
Of those stories I didn't care for, I can't say it's necessarily due to any shortcomings in Knippling's writing; rather, these veered towards the more surreal and cryptic, and I wasn't always able to decipher the meaning embedded within.
When taken as a whole, A Murder of Crows isn't diverse enough that I'd categorize it as a diverse book (as in "we need diverse books"); but a number of stories are noteworthy for featuring gay protagonists ("The Edge of the World"; "Be Good"); Native American characters ("The Strongest Thing About Me is Hate"; "The Vengeance Quilt"); and those with physical disabilities (for example, the grandmother in "Inappropriate Gifts" suffers from Bell's Palsy and is self-conscious about how it affects her speech). And of course "Be Good" is just a shiny, lovely (but heartbreakingly so), gay-friendly gem.
One thing I especially enjoy about Knippling is her ability to turn a phrase with artistic ease; the more lyrical lines shine even brighter when juxtaposed with Knippling's copious use of obscenities, particularly from the mouths of babes. The result is as beautiful as it is profane, a style which suits the stories damn near perfectly.
http://www.easyvegan.info/2015/01/19/a-murder-of-crows-by-deanna-knippling/ show less
This review was written for LibraryThing Member Giveaways.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a review.
A Murder of Crows by Deanna Kipling is best described as hauntingly beautiful. The writing is absolutely fantastic and I was drawn in right from the start.
Each chapter of the book is a short story and can be read as a stand-alone, though I must admit that once I started, I pretty much raced it to the end. Most of the stories make no sense whatsoever but they certainly make a good read. Rereading is certainly recommended with this book, or else you'll probably be unable to piece everything together.
A Murder of Crows by Deanna Kipling is best described as hauntingly beautiful. The writing is absolutely fantastic and I was drawn in right from the start.
Each chapter of the book is a short story and can be read as a stand-alone, though I must admit that once I started, I pretty much raced it to the end. Most of the stories make no sense whatsoever but they certainly make a good read. Rereading is certainly recommended with this book, or else you'll probably be unable to piece everything together.
This review was written for LibraryThing Member Giveaways.
This was a rich, layered book of short stories, though so many of them were inter-woven that it felt more like a novel. Because my brain wanted to connect all the dots of every story and every story-within-a-story and every storyteller, I found the book slow to get through, but satisfying in each section.
Knippling creates a dark and strange world of crows and magic, a world filled with stank and evil and sweat and blood. I actually had a gag reflex that caused me to get up and settle myself reading one passage (the ear on the bus) and another story had me googling for definitions (behemah, treif & ipish) sending me on an hourlong journey of clicking links to explore these words associated with that particular lush tale of zombies.
I show more suppose you could read these stories at face value, one at a time, enjoying the nested tales without over-thinking them, but for me the whole was much greater than the parts, and although I did not completely understand the book in its entirety, one of my takeaways was the theme of storyteller as spell-weaver, storyteller as magician. Knippling is just that! show less
Knippling creates a dark and strange world of crows and magic, a world filled with stank and evil and sweat and blood. I actually had a gag reflex that caused me to get up and settle myself reading one passage (the ear on the bus) and another story had me googling for definitions (behemah, treif & ipish) sending me on an hourlong journey of clicking links to explore these words associated with that particular lush tale of zombies.
I show more suppose you could read these stories at face value, one at a time, enjoying the nested tales without over-thinking them, but for me the whole was much greater than the parts, and although I did not completely understand the book in its entirety, one of my takeaways was the theme of storyteller as spell-weaver, storyteller as magician. Knippling is just that! show less
This review was written for LibraryThing Member Giveaways.
4.5 stars
I received a copy of this book through the LibraryThing Early Reviewers program.
Ten Second Synopsis:
Machado and his flock rescue a young girl from a dangerous home, and keep out the cold by sharing creepy stories.
I have read quite a few short story anthologies and collections that are interwoven about a central narrative, but I have to say that this book is an extremely good example of the genre. Putting aside the content for a moment, Knippling has created a tight, thoughtfully constructed collection here that subtly links each story to the greater narrative and covers a great variety of horror-themed tales. There’s a nifty little zombie narrative, in which humans and the undead coexist in an uneasy sharing of geographical show more space, stories of changelings and fey interference in human affairs, tales of summoning what should not be summoned, particularly where revenge is involved and stories featuring objects imbued with a power not their own. I was surprised and impressed by first the number of stories included here, as well as their quality – while the content of some was a little beyond my horror-tolerance, they were all remarkably well written and engaging, something that is not always the case in longer anthologies.
As the subtitle suggests, there are seventeen short stories within the greater narrative and they are all quite hefty in themselves and therefore the reader won’t be left wanting in terms of reading time. Like I mentioned, some of the stories, especially toward the end became a bit too realistically violent for my tastes, but I suspect they will please more experienced horror-buffs than I.
I particularly enjoyed the characterisation given to the various crows, from the elders to the chicks, and the backstories that coloured both the stories the crows shared and their attitude to the unfolding monster-based crisis. Machado particularly had a very relatable voice and I enjoyed his musings between the short stories.
This was an out-of-the-box, quality find for me and I will no doubt end up seeking out some other examples of Knippling’s work in the future. show less
I received a copy of this book through the LibraryThing Early Reviewers program.
Ten Second Synopsis:
Machado and his flock rescue a young girl from a dangerous home, and keep out the cold by sharing creepy stories.
I have read quite a few short story anthologies and collections that are interwoven about a central narrative, but I have to say that this book is an extremely good example of the genre. Putting aside the content for a moment, Knippling has created a tight, thoughtfully constructed collection here that subtly links each story to the greater narrative and covers a great variety of horror-themed tales. There’s a nifty little zombie narrative, in which humans and the undead coexist in an uneasy sharing of geographical show more space, stories of changelings and fey interference in human affairs, tales of summoning what should not be summoned, particularly where revenge is involved and stories featuring objects imbued with a power not their own. I was surprised and impressed by first the number of stories included here, as well as their quality – while the content of some was a little beyond my horror-tolerance, they were all remarkably well written and engaging, something that is not always the case in longer anthologies.
As the subtitle suggests, there are seventeen short stories within the greater narrative and they are all quite hefty in themselves and therefore the reader won’t be left wanting in terms of reading time. Like I mentioned, some of the stories, especially toward the end became a bit too realistically violent for my tastes, but I suspect they will please more experienced horror-buffs than I.
I particularly enjoyed the characterisation given to the various crows, from the elders to the chicks, and the backstories that coloured both the stories the crows shared and their attitude to the unfolding monster-based crisis. Machado particularly had a very relatable voice and I enjoyed his musings between the short stories.
This was an out-of-the-box, quality find for me and I will no doubt end up seeking out some other examples of Knippling’s work in the future. show less
This review was written for LibraryThing Member Giveaways.
*I was given a free copy for an honest review.*
As per Amazon: "A collection of short horror, ghost, and dark fantasy stories for adults, woven together by a flock of crows, telling stories to entertain a girl trying to survive a tragedy..." That line alone made me interested in reading this book.
At first I wasn't sure how to review this book because I wasn't completely certain what was happening in the overarching storyline about the crows and the young girl. I know there is symbolism there I am missing, through no fault of the author. So I decided to take the book at face value, a collection of 17 short stories. I've read other short story collections where each tale seemed so similar to the last that they all blend together. You show more don't have to worry about that here. Each story is an individual that stands out from the crowd. The author is very skilled at giving each story its own voice. The endings are open-ended so the stories make you think too. I especially enjoyed "Vengeance Quilt" and "Family Gods." I would love to see those two stories worked into full-length novels.
4 stars show less
As per Amazon: "A collection of short horror, ghost, and dark fantasy stories for adults, woven together by a flock of crows, telling stories to entertain a girl trying to survive a tragedy..." That line alone made me interested in reading this book.
At first I wasn't sure how to review this book because I wasn't completely certain what was happening in the overarching storyline about the crows and the young girl. I know there is symbolism there I am missing, through no fault of the author. So I decided to take the book at face value, a collection of 17 short stories. I've read other short story collections where each tale seemed so similar to the last that they all blend together. You show more don't have to worry about that here. Each story is an individual that stands out from the crowd. The author is very skilled at giving each story its own voice. The endings are open-ended so the stories make you think too. I especially enjoyed "Vengeance Quilt" and "Family Gods." I would love to see those two stories worked into full-length novels.
4 stars show less
This review was written for LibraryThing Member Giveaways.
This anthology of seventeen stories is woven together with dialogue and stories of a murder of crows. The crows have taken a young girl from her home, secured her in a junk yard and the stories are entertainment as well as a way to help her learn about how to be human and perhaps have a better life than she otherwise would have if she had remained with her mother. Some of the stories are related to one another and some are not but all are interesting, well written and just creepy enough to leaving me wanting to read another one.
This book was received through a LibraryThing giveaway and I am thankful I won. I would definitely read more books by DeAnna Knippling.
This book was received through a LibraryThing giveaway and I am thankful I won. I would definitely read more books by DeAnna Knippling.
This review was written for LibraryThing Member Giveaways.
I won a copy of this book from Library Thing, in exchange for an honest review.
“A Murder of Crows” by Deanna Knippling is subtitled, “Seventeen Tales of Monsters and the Macabre”, and it showcases a fine collection of short stories, narrated by a crow named Machado. To pass the cold nights, and to comfort the young human girl they’ve just abducted/rescued from her wicked mother, the crows take turns telling stories. Bizarre, frightening tales spill forth from the crows, along with a couple the girl tells them. Some will startle you, some will amuse you, and some will make your heart pound frantically within your chest.
This collection of stories is a good one. Deanna Knippling either has an excellent head for creating short show more horror stories, or she is on speaking terms with a number of intelligent, story-telling crows. Either way, the reader comes out the winner with this book. Readers who enjoy short horror stories will find “A Murder of Crows” very much to their liking. I would definitely recommend this book to horror fans, as well as fans of just plain good writing. show less
“A Murder of Crows” by Deanna Knippling is subtitled, “Seventeen Tales of Monsters and the Macabre”, and it showcases a fine collection of short stories, narrated by a crow named Machado. To pass the cold nights, and to comfort the young human girl they’ve just abducted/rescued from her wicked mother, the crows take turns telling stories. Bizarre, frightening tales spill forth from the crows, along with a couple the girl tells them. Some will startle you, some will amuse you, and some will make your heart pound frantically within your chest.
This collection of stories is a good one. Deanna Knippling either has an excellent head for creating short show more horror stories, or she is on speaking terms with a number of intelligent, story-telling crows. Either way, the reader comes out the winner with this book. Readers who enjoy short horror stories will find “A Murder of Crows” very much to their liking. I would definitely recommend this book to horror fans, as well as fans of just plain good writing. show less
This review was written for LibraryThing Member Giveaways.
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