Riley Sager’s MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT (Dutton, 376 pp., $30) is a creepy and unnerving thriller that flirts with the supernatural.
Not much happened in Hemlock Circle, a quiet cul-de-sac in New Jersey, until one July night, when everything changed. Ethan and his best friend, Billy — both 10 years old — spent the evening camping in Ethan’s backyard. When Ethan woke up the next morning, he discovered that the tent had been cut open and Billy was gone, never to be seen again.
Thirty years later, Ethan comes back home after a failed relationship. Hemlock Circle is still quiet, but something is amiss — something is setting off the motion sensor lights on the street at night and someone is throwing a baseball into Ethan’s backyard, just like Billy used to do when he wanted to play. The bizarre events drive Ethan to dig into the unsolved case, and the more he investigates, the more he thinks the forces that led to Billy’s disappearance are still around.
“Middle of the Night” uses a horrific event — and maybe a ghost — to shatter the idea of American suburban tranquillity. Sager is a master of twists, and he delivers plenty of them here. The novel is also full of ’90s nostalgia, but the things stalking the backyard and the mysterious institute hidden in the nearby woods are what make this a gripping read.
Monika Kim’s THE EYES ARE THE BEST PART (Erewhon Books, 278 pp., $27) is an outstanding debut, a feminist horror novel that tackles big social issues and also delivers the gory origin story of a female serial killer.
Ji-won’s life begins to spiral when her father leaves home to move in with his new girlfriend. Ji-won is in college, and she’s so distracted by her home life that her grades drop enough to put her on academic probation. Meanwhile, her nightmares — which always feature eyeballs — become grislier than ever, though she finds them strangely appealing.
When her mother starts dating a white man with blue eyes named George — a man who calls Asians “Orientals” and who ogles Ji-won and her sister — and then lets him move in with them, Ji-won’s small apartment becomes a prison. The strain of the situation causes Ji-won’s eye dreams to bloom into something more sinister: Not only does she envision eyes, she becomes obsessed with eating them.
Violent, smart, gruesome and wildly original, this novel pulls readers into a horrific world of murder and cannibalism while also critiquing misogyny, exploring Asian fetishization and stereotypes, sharing what it’s like to navigate two cultures and telling a touching story of a family in turmoil.
E.K. Sathue’s YOUTHJUICE (Hell’s Hundred, 276 pp., $25.95) is a sendup of the beauty and wellness industry that explores what people will do to hold on to good looks and youth.
Though she sees the beauty industry as vapid, Sophia Bannion is happy to land a coveted role at HEBE, a popular skin care company. Despite her philosophical qualms and the fact that some of her co-workers aren’t friendly, it’s still the best job she’s ever had.
While the work is great, it also adds to Sophia’s relentless anxiety, which makes her bite her nails and cuticles to the point of bleeding. To hide her damaged hands, she wears gloves in public. Then HEBE’s founder gives Sophia a new ointment with a “top-secret proprietary formula” to try. The cream miraculously fixes Sophia’s hands, but when she learns the ugly truth of how it is made, it changes everything.
This novel is entertaining and gloomy. The writing is sharp and full of scathing lines that poke fun at the wellness industry. Also, Sophia — witty, extremely self-aware, a bit of a nihilist — is a memorable character. Unfortunately, the continual descriptions of food, drinks, meetings and vaping turmeric root, and the long side chapters about Sophia’s youth, distract from the main narrative and dilute the punch of the cautionary tale at the novel’s core.
Ananda Lima’s CRAFT: Stories I Wrote for the Devil (Tor Books, 179 pp., $24.99) is a stylistically audacious collection of nine interconnected short stories, most of which follow an unnamed writer from Brazil who encounters the Devil a few times throughout her life.
“You probably can’t tell by looking at her now, but once, back in her 20s, the writer had slept with the Devil.” This is the opening line of the first story, and it sets the tone for the collection. In “Ghost Story,” the writer’s mother is haunted by the writer’s ghost from the future. “Tropicália” follows a young Brazilian immigrant who deals with workplace racism and constantly worries about ICE and deportation. “Antropófaga,” the weirdest and most magical tale here, deals with a woman who eats tiny Americans from a vending machine at work.
The stories are interrupted by short chapters written in the third person that talk about the writer’s life. Those chapters and the Devil’s several appearances give the collection a wonderful sense of cohesion. Irreverent and very conscious of form, this is a remarkable debut that announces the arrival of a towering talent in speculative fiction.
