The Black Hunger

by Nicholas Pullen

A spine-tingling, queer gothic horror debut where two men are drawn into an otherworldly spiral, and a journey that will only end when they reach the darkest part of the human soul.

“The Black Hunger is a bleak, gothic masterpiece. A devastating exploration of humanity's capacity for evil."​ – Sunyi Dean, author of The Book Eaters

John Sackville will soon be dead. Shadows writhe in the corners of his cell as he mourns the death of his secret lover and the gnawing hunger inside him grows impossible to ignore.

He must write his last testament before it is too late.

It is a story steeped in history and myth - a journey from stone circles in Scotland, to the barren wilderness of Ukraine where otherworldly creatures stalk the night, ending in the icy peaks of Tibet and Mongolia, where an ancient evil stirs.

Genres: Horror, Gothic, Historical Fiction, Fantasy, Historical, Queer, Fiction

393 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 8, 2024

About the author

Nicholas Pullen was born in Toronto in 1989. He is a graduate of Somerville College at Oxford University, where he received his BA in history in 2012, and holds an MA in history from McGill University, graduating in 2019. After finishing his academic career, he joined the public service, which has taken him to Quebec City, Ottawa, and Whitehorse, in the Yukon territory.

His short fiction has appeared in the Toronto Star, the Copperfield Review Quarterly, and Anti-Heroin Chic. By day he works for the Government of Canada, and by night he pens eldritch tales. The Black Hunger is his first novel.

He knows the names, locations, depths, and stories of every shipwreck in Georgian Bay, and most of the rest of the Great Lakes for that matter.

He lives in the Yukon with his husband and their dog.

Reviews

[Jaidee · Rating 4 out of 5]

4 "an ambitious, rip-roaring, queer bear, apocalyptic, gothic adventure romance" stars !!!

A ribbon of Excellence read for 2024

Thanks to the author, Netgalley and Redhook book for an advance e-copy. This will be released October 2024. I am providing an honest review and this is my Halloween read of 2024.

I was so intrigued by this book's premise when I saw it pop on my Netgalley page and I immediately fast-tracked it and that was a very good reading decision.

This is a startlingly original work of immense scope, excitement and adventure. Our two lovers John and Garrett are set to meet the very dark side of Tibetan Buddhism and are railroaded into fighting for the saving of our planet. There is sweet romance, high adventure, plenty of demonic horror and travels to Central Asia, Tibet, Mongolia and China and even the Orkney Islands. There are also stories within stories whereby a dark Buddhist sect brings a whole new meaning to nirvana with power and annihilation. The pace is exciting with an intricate plot and plenty of historical detail to keep the reader at the edge of their seat. The prose is a decent 3 to 3.5 star variety but my enjoyment never veered far from 5 star territory.

(This really could have been a 4.5 to 5 star book with a couple of rewrites and a sharp editorial eye that could have dealt with a few episodes of mansplaining to deal with info dumping in a more creative manner. Also minor issues with pacing and a false sense of social justice issues (that did not fit in with the narrative or ambience of book)

Move away from the lily- livered works of Moreno Garcia into something more robust, exciting and absolutely fucking thrilling.

I look forward to seeing what this author comes up with next.

[Gyalten Lekden · Rating 3 out of 5]

I wanted to leave just a simple review of this book. But the truth is, when I started it, it immediately gave me the feeling of being, at best, culturally insensitive, but more likely somewhere on the spectrum between appropriative and exploitative. Then I worried maybe I was being overly sensitive, and I pushed the feeling away, but it came back by the end of the story. Still, this didn’t affect the storytelling or writing, and who knows, maybe I am being too sensitive or protective. With that in mind, I endeavored to appreciate the book on its terms and my review will try to be divorced of that experience. However, it feels important to mention, and so after my review I will touch on it again, briefly.
This story is sold as a queer gothic horror, and it definitely delivers. I would actually argue it has a lot of fantasy elements as well, and to say it is a gothic fantasy that employs horror tropes and imagery while having a queer love story at its heart wouldn’t be off course, and it blends all of those stylistic endeavors together really well. The main story follows a young man who ends up being conscripted to go on a quest to save the world from a nihilistic death cult, but this only takes up about half of the pages of the story. Pullen employs a nested narrative structure, where there are three separate stories, and they are presented as A(1), B(1), C, B(2), A(2), with our main story being the A storyline line. This nested structure isn’t new, though I usually see it in more speculative and sci-fi fantastical spaces, so I thought it was an interesting narrative device here, and it succeeded in some ways but also caused the story to lag in others. Every individual storyline was told in an epistolary format, and while this worked and made sense for B and C I thought it felt contrived for part A, our main story, and the majority of the story could have been told without that conceit to greater effect. In other stories this nested narrative is used to show parallels between stories, characters, or events. Here, though, it was just used to give backstory, to fill in details. Our B story takes place a few decades prior to our A story, and it gives context to the mess our main character has found himself in, and it is actually presented as an information dossier that our main character reads. The C story takes place a few years prior to B, and in its way provides more background for our B storyline characters. While this wasn’t the most inventive use of such a narrative device it was compelling, and it felt a creative and engaging way to explore intertwined histories. Aside from the narrative structure the writing was bold and direct. A little flowery here and there, but this always felt appropriate since it was in an epistolary format. I will say, though, the A storyline was a bit slow. It was the longest, with A(1) and A(2) probably making up half of the book, but it just felt like it dragged and dragged, especially the first part. I think the format was in part to blame, as there were no section breaks at all in the entire A(1) section, so it didn’t have the narrative peaks and natural cliffhangers you can create by having chapter breaks, and it really did suffer from a lack of momentum as a result. This was avoided in the B storyline as it was presented, primarily, as a series of journal entries. This created a rhythm and a natural set of breaks that were quite effective in keeping my interest piqued, keeping me on the edge of my seat. To be fair there was a lot of world-building to be done in that first section, and he did a wonderful job of setting a tone, I do just wish it might have had more momentum. It doesn’t even need to be shorter in length, just structured a little differently to give the reader more to latch on to instead of a sprawling narrative that just flows from one scene to the next as it does.
He did a good job of developing characters, at least our protagonists for all three sections, with first person narration offering an intimacy that he exploited. I appreciate that our main character being queer is central to this story. It may not be at the actual heart of the story, though it does play a role in how and why events unfurl they way they do, but more importantly it is at the heart of our main character. His love story is tender and empowering and a critical part of who and how he is, and I really appreciate it being handled the way it was. It wasn’t an afterthought or just another character trait but instead a critical factor in shaping how our main character exists and moves in the world, and it was heart-warming to boot. Aside from that aspect our main characters do feel like they are complicated, they have depth and are engaging, sometimes fitting into classical archetypical boxes but always feeling like they were more than that, like they were well-lived, genuine people. Our antagonists are less interesting. I mean, they are fun, but they are only ab few steps below mustache-twirling stereotypes. Their aims are pretty simple, but how and why they got to the emotional places they’re at is never really explored. They just want the world to burn, and they want to be the one lighting the match when it does, essentially, with their nihilistic, occult worldview combining with inflated sense of ego and desperate need for power and control. While the magic they employed and the cult they were part of were unique, they were pretty simple antagonists, not new or complicated. Still, they were interesting. They definitely had a gravitas about them, the way they carried themselves and were presented in the story was compelling and engaging, even if they didn’t feel particularly multi-dimensional.
The story itself was interesting enough, creating a nihilistic death cult that misinterpreted, or told their own version, of the mythos and legend regarding the historical Buddha, Siddartha Gautama, one that led them to a backwards belief that the only actual end to suffering is complete destruction of all life. The response to this cult, especially by the Buddhist characters, was a very westernized, sensationalist response that flies in the face of actual Buddhist religious belief, which is to say they wouldn’t react the way they do unless they don’t actual believe in the Buddhism they teach and profess to practice, but that’s neither here nor there. Having a secret government agency fighting this death cult, and having connections with various religious leaders, such as the 13th Dalai Lama and so forth, was an interesting, if not somewhat iconoclastic, bit of storytelling. Still, the threat was genuine and interesting enough, and playing with religious ideas can always yield interesting results. I think what worked for me least in the story is that I really felt like a strong sense of journey was missing. Yes, our main character goes on an extensive physical journey, from his childhood home to Mongolia and back again, but so much of that journey is one that happens to him. He doesn’t really make a whole lot of choices once the ball starts rolling. The question that the story asks of him, as well as of our B and C story protagonists, to a lesser extent, is what is the purpose of life in the face of so much suffering? Our main character knows how cruel the world can be, with his queer identity being at the center of his experiences of mindless cruelty and judgment. Is whatever joy you can eke out in the face of violence, cruelty, hatred, and suffering worth it? The death cult says no, they say the only released from suffering is to end all life as we know it, and there are echoes of this sentiment that resonate with our hero. So, there is some level of introspection, on the part of our hero, but it still doesn’t feel like much of a journey. Maybe this is due to the framing device, and the fact that we are explicitly told about some significant events that happen in the last 10% of the story right in the opening pages, the chosen narrative device explicitly spoiling some of the most emotionally explosive scenes, which made everything feel like a forgone conclusion, robbing it of a real feeling of movement or choice, or of emotional journey. Whatever introspection has happened, our hero has made up his mind before we meet him, and while this does invite us as readers to engage in our own introspection on some really heavy and important ideas it doesn’t add to the sense of journey in the story. I live the questions Pullen is forcing the reader to reckon with, and I think he imagines up an interesting straw-man cult to force those questions on us, wrapping them up in a strong gothic atmosphere, a fantasy quest, and the power of queer love. My own reservation regarding cultural insensitivity and appropriation aside, which I will get to momentarily, I think the story is fun. It has a high stakes fantasy quest, some horrific scenes of depravity and violence to keep you on edge, a clever narrative framing with strong and confident writing, and a rich and well-developed primary character that is interesting and who you want to spend more time with. The nihilistic cult/occult magic aspects aren’t particularly inventive, they are just transposing well-trod ideas onto a (dare I say exotic?) cultural landscape, playing with religious, spiritual, and cultural ideas that will probably be foreign to most of the western audience. However those well-trodden ideas are that way for a reason, they create compelling stakes and serve as a perfect foil for any reluctant hero, and I appreciate the effort to mix them up and set the story in a time and place different than what is normally expected.
Okay, now for my reservations. Look, I have written and re-written this a half dozen times, and in most cases it ended up dwarfing the length of my actual review. I am trying to avoid that. Here is the thing, I am an uncommon reader for this book. I am an American who started practicing Tibetan Buddhism in college, then studied it professionally, along with classical Sanskrit and Tibetan through my graduate studies, and then I ordained as a Tibetan Buddhist monk, and I live in a Gelug monastery in southern India, where I have been for more than 13 years. In addition to constant study at the monastery I translate professionally and teacher Buddhism around the world, though primarily in India and the US. So, I have both a sensitivity to and a proficiency in all of the cultures and religious ideas he is playing with in this story. I don’t have any problems with playing with Buddhist mythologies, there are more than enough stories that take Christian ideas of the devil or demons and combine them with Pagan or neo-Pagan ideas as well as just pure imagination, why can’t the same be done with Buddhist ideas or beliefs? One difference, though, is that in almost all contexts that those are created Christianity is the dominating if not hegemonic cultural identity, and very few consumers will think this is what Christians actually believe. That isn’t the case for Buddhists and Tibetan Buddhists, particularly. So, it does require some level of sensitivity. And what put me off isn’t the liberal interpretation of Buddhist ideas, but rather a lack of confidence that there was any genuine knowledge or interest in these communities and belief systems as anything more than story fodder. I have no idea what the author knows or practices, but my impression form this story is of someone who has read a bunch of entries in the World Encyclopedia of Religion, as well as a few highly fetishized translations, but doesn’t have any strong, experiential knowledge. Yes, the story takes place at the turn of the 20th century, our main character’s degree is in Orientalist Studies, I expect the character’s descriptions and understandings to be biased, orientalist, essentialist, imperialist, and fetishizing. That’s fine. But that same feeling comes across in authorial narration as well. It is little things, things that don’t affect the story but clue me in to a lack of experiential knowledge. Simple things, like presenting Pali/Theravadin interpretations of Buddhist ideas of stories (such as the philosophical understanding of the Four Noble Truths, or the story of how the historical Buddha became a buddha) and treats them as if Mahāyāna Buddhist and especially Tibetan Buddhist believe or interpret them the same way, which they don’t. Or he references studying Tibetan and Sanskrit in ways that just indicate he has little familiarity with studying either, they are just an exotic and exciting thing to put in the story. Or he puts words in the mouth of important historical spiritual leaders like Tsongkhapa and the 13th Dalai Lama that are antithetical to the Buddhist beliefs they espouse—even if there were this nihilistic cult that harnessed black magical powers as described in the story, and these spiritual leaders criticized it, the words he puts in their literal mouths betray a complete lack of understanding of Buddhist cosmology or philosophy (and is actually one of the things I found openly offensive). Even in the author acknowledgments at the end he makes a reference to the Pali language, and translations of Pali texts, as being as close to the authentic speech of the Buddha as you can get, which just shows a fundamental misunderstanding of how the Pali language was created and employed (spoiler: no one ever spoke Pali. It was invented by Sinhalese scholar-monks, based on Sanskrit, decades after the death of the historical Buddha, as a means of codifying and limiting the Buddhist textual corpus so they could claim authority or scriptural interpretation). These and so many other little things, like referencing a text by Tsongkhapa as his magnum opus, whereas any specialist will say that particular text is wildly important but much more so for lay people and for everyday practice than for deep understanding, as it doesn’t contain any of his exploration of the esoteric teachings nor does it contain his most elaborate or refined explanations on emptiness, the meaning of reality. It is easily accessible and important, but few dedicated scholars would label it as his most important work. There are even scenes where the character says he recognizes a particular Tibetan phrase, which is then written (as if spoken by a different character,) but is written in an academic method of Tibetan transcription that is entirely divorced from Tibetan pronunciation. And here’s the thing – none of these details matter for the story at all. But they add up to leave me with really little confidence in the author. They leave me feeling that he has some academic/historical understanding, was fascinated by some of the fantastical imagery in The Tibetan Book of the Dead (which not all Tibetan Buddhists agree is an authentic or realistic explanation of the intermediate state, but it was fetishized by early western hippie adopters and is studied wildly out of context and in such a way that distorts Buddhist soteriological understanding), and these combined with maybe reading some Pali (and confusing it for what all Buddhists believe, whereas Tibetans hold many of the texts in the Pali canon as not being definitive nor being able to be understood literally), and all of this added up to what feels like ungrounded confidence to exotify another culture’s religious worldviews and understanding that is really little more than the common western orientalist, imperialist, essentializing impulse. There is undoubtedly a genuine appreciation for the teachings and cultures referenced, but it doesn’t feel like enough experiential understanding to warrant the gross liberties taken with important religious figures and spiritual & cultural worldviews. Honestly, it left me with a bad taste in my mouth for the entirety of the novel. I did my best to overlook what felt like fetishizing and appropriation to appreciate the story, and I think I was able to, but I wish I didn’t have to.

I want to thank the author, the publisher Redhook Books, and NetGalley, who provided a complimentary eARC for review. I am leaving this review voluntarily.

[thevampireslibrary · Rating 5 out of 5]

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This felt like a classic gothic horror that could hold its own against the greats, an atmospheric nightmare with elements of Stoker and Shelley.
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I can't say much as it would spoil it entirely, but I highly recommend this to fans of historical, gothic, horror, lovecraftian and queer fiction.
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The narrative artfully weaves together the fates of three men through an epistolary format (i love), I was captivated from the very first page to the last. The worldbuilding and lore is rich and intricate but never felt overwhelming. Pullen is masterful in revealing the horrors in a tantalizing fashion,  keeping the reader intrigued.

The characterization in this novel is something to be commended. The emotional depth of our protagonists felt authentic and fully realized, their struggles deeply resonate. The prose? utterly addictive and truly beautiful, the love depicted was raw and visceral, I cried. The ending is left pretty vague (second book?) so if you're a fan of concrete resolutions it may not be for you. This was such a fantastic and emotive read, full of horror yet quietly hopeful, wasn't at all what I was expecting, in a good way, can't wait to see what this author does next

[Rachel (TheShadesofOrange) · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 Stars
Video Review https://youtu.be/y9h_dc_MtCo

This was a rich piece of gothic historical fiction. Admittedly, this isn't my favourite subgenre which is represented in my rating. However I can still appreciate a well written story.

I would recommend this one to anyone who loves Gothic fiction. This especially would make a good Halloween read.

Disclaimer I received a copy of this book from the publisher.

[charlotte, · Rating 1 out of 5]

On my blog.

CWs: period typical racism, homophobia & antisemitism, cannibalism, gore

Galley provided by publisher

Maybe it’s because I’ve been reading too much nonfiction recently, historical nonfiction, a lot of it focused on the British Empire, but if I had known that the plot of this book could be summed up as “plucky English imperialist attempts to save the world from scary Eastern death cult Buddhist sect”, then I would not have touched it with a six mile long bargepole. Maybe even longer, I don’t know. The point is, I wouldn’t have gone near it. Alas, when I marked this one to read, I was labouring under the misapprehension that it was set in the 16th century. It is not. It is set at the height of the British Empire, in Tibet and Mongolia, with brief allusions to India (namely, the love interest who owns a plantation there).

Now, I am perfectly willing to accept that there was something different intended here. That I wasn’t meant to be reading it as a white-saviour narrative of sorts. Perhaps, a tract on not meddling in matters that do not concern you. But all the best intentions (if we can assume there were such intentions here) go astray and instead what we have is a book about a white noble(ish)man who decides to read “Oriental Studies” at university and then it all goes downhill from there.

I can’t speak to the accuracy of the way this book portrays Tibetan Buddhism ( this review , particularly the final paragraph, seems more capable of doing so), but there’s a certain amount of side-eyeing I’m doing when it comes to books like this. Especially given our main characters are white imperialists, it seems to be used as a way to exoticise the gothic aspects of the narrative. Why is this white man the one who’s going to take down this death cult? Why is there set up a whole cadre of white men to do so? If you have read anything about the British Empire, this should be ringing some loud alarm bells in your head. This book then takes the interesting direction of having a lot of the villains also be white, which I guess is an attempt to avoid the whole white man vs scary Eastern death cult, but guess what! It’s too late! You’ve dug your grave and lain in it by this point.

While the book does feel thoroughly (and, at points, tediously — you do not need to put every little tidbit you found in there!) researched, as that review I linked pointed out, there are times where it takes the research and makes a deductive leap that very definitively shows a lack of understanding of Buddhism. Even knowing very little about Buddhism, it felt to me at times like that lack of understanding was showing, and not even in a narratively-these-are-white-imperialists-who-would-think-like-this kind of way. In a the-author-has-misunderstood kind of way.

Putting my qualms about the overall plot aside for a second though, this book is one of the most boring books I’ve read this year. And I’ve read a lot of books, and a lot of boring ones at that! Because of this whole scary Eastern death cult, it elects to infodump everything onto you in the first part, in a not very fluid way. So, part one is a slog, not helped by a narrator who made me want to gouge my eyes out. Again, to a certain extent maybe intentional, but he read as an obliviously selfish noble(ish)man in an imperialist society, and I could never warm to him. Not only that, but you’re supposed to believe his relationship with his manservant is some kind of big, epic love, but you only ever get his side of things, you never see how Gareth might tire of the treatment he (necessarily? According to the protagonist) receives. Not that I found much sympathy for Gareth, given that he’s the aforementioned love interest who owns a plantation in India. At the turn of the 20th century, what do you think they did on plantations in India? Whatever it was, it wouldn’t have been with their own two hands.

Other parts of this book tell stories within stories, which stuck out to me about as much as… nothing at all. I couldn’t tell you anything about them, they were so incredibly unmemorable. Of course, they all eventually relate back to this scary Eastern death cult, as needs must, but although they were clearly aimed at elucidating some background to all this, they never captured my attention. Furthermore — and this is probably the worst offence of the plot-minus-orientalism — none of this was in the least bit scary. Perhaps that was because I read it all with a very detached feeling. The writing felt like it was holding you at arms’ length, which certainly didn’t help in making the sense of horror at all apparent.

If this book hadn’t had these orientalist overtones, then it would merely have been, to me, a really effing boring read. As it was, it was effing boring and awful. So, the one-star.

[Laura · Rating 2 out of 5]

Okay, I let this settle for a few days and now I think I can gather my thoughts.

This book suffers from several problems, but the main ones are 1) extremely poor editing when it comes to the plotting/pacing, and 2) a lot of extremely racist tropes being enacted by someone who is clearly anxious to not be racist, which only makes the result more unfortunate. Pullen was clearly raised on colonial narratives like Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and The Mummy (I know we all love it, but let's be honest with ourselves); he also, per his author bio at the back of the book, prides himself on his "passion for reconciliation and decolonization." He wants to write the tropes of midcentury adventure stories, but he also wants to be respectful. The problem is, there are tropes that simply can't be done respectfully, and most of them show up in this book: the credulous foreigners who worship a white man because they think he's a god. The decadent, libertine court presided over by a gluttonous (and fat! Never forget he's fat!) non-white king. The esoteric Asian death cult. Pullen tries to weave and dodge his way around the pitfalls by tweaking the story (the primary adherents of the death cult are Russian aristocrats) but there just isn't enough revision in the world that can make them not what they are. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure why he didn't make his death cult Russian or German - one of the primary antagonists is Baron von Ungern-Sternberg, a real guy, and German occultism is a trope in itself at this point - but I suspect he does feel a sense of admiration and affection for Tibetan culture and wanted to set the book there, even when he really, really should not have.

The other thing about Pullen's attempts to make this book not racist is that he doesn't seem to have really thought through the implications of anything he's written here. Our main character's lover runs a plantation in colonial India, and this is entirely glanced over. All our main characters are white, as are most of the tertiary characters supporting the quest to stop the Dhaumri Karoti, as are nearly all the villains - so what we've got is a bunch of white people playing in a sandbox that is not theirs, plus a few token Asian guys who are along for the ride because they're either tricked or magically brainwashed into being there. The one protagonist whose racial identity is slightly complicated is Dr. Abravanel, a Jewish man from a Hasidic family who goes to Oxford, and even that is wobbly: when he falls in love with a gentile woman, his family shows up to make an embarrassing scene at his dorm until he breaks up with her, then he marries a nice Jewish girl who he never loves, and eventually cheerfully abandons his first family once he gets the opportunity to fake his death and run off with his first love. Jason Robert Brown wrote "Shiksa Goddess" specifically about this guy. He also learns that he's a Tzadik Nistar, a secret righteous man whose existence will help prevent the end of the world, but there's no real engagement with his relationship to Judaism, culturally or spiritually, so it feels like something that just got thrown in haphazardly for a plot point about how keeping kosher prevents him from becoming an accidental cannibal. (Also there's a digression about how a swastika will never feature in a Jewish household, a strange declaration to make in 1876, decades before the Nazis would claim it as a symbol.)

Really, the lack of engagement is an issue that pervades the book: so many plot points and concepts are brought up, then immediately rushed past in the haste to get to the next thing. Dr. Abravanel's family is a perfect example of this: surely even if he did not love his wife, he has some feeling for his (admittedly grown) children, and would be upset at the thought of abandoning his life entirely and letting them think he died in a fire? But it doesn't even cross his mind. Likewise, Garrett (the plantation-owning love interest) gets told that there's an apocalypse cult trying to reanimate the army of Genghis Khan and they need to go warn the Dalai Lama, and is just like, "sure, okay!" Neither he nor John (the main character) seem to have any core beliefs about spiritualism, despite the fact that religion is the main force driving the plot. Nor do they have any particular goals; they get bumped from one place to another based on what other characters demand, but the only decision either of them make regarding their own lives and destinies is becoming an attaché to Tibet (John) and a plantation owner (Garrett, and I really cannot stress enough how little thought goes into that plot beat).

On a similar note, the worldbuilding is baffling: Judaism, Christianity, and Buddhism are all "real" in this universe in the sense that they can materially impact the world: at one point, a character gets turned into a cannibal zombie, but then he's splashed with holy water and snaps out of it, then spends the rest of his life fending off the human flesh cravings by taking Catholic communion. And I've already mentioned the Tzadik Nistar. So of the three religions in this book, the two "western" ones - the ones practiced by our white characters - are good and noble, and the "eastern" one is represented in the form of a death cult. There's a throwaway mention of a character using a concoction given to him by "the Mohawks of Caughnawaga" to ward off "evil spirits," but that's never mentioned again. The villains are essentially nihilists who believe that the world must be ended to eradicate all suffering, and at one point John is confronted with this - how can he, a gay man, not see the evils of the world in the unfairness of his own treatment? - and the best comeback he's got is:

There were men and women of good intention in the world. Even if some of them wanted me dead or punished. There were children, innocent of all crime. There was the trickling brook that ran beneath the bridge in Dalwood that Garrett and I had thrown horse chestnuts into as boys. There was my mother, with her scent of lavender. Yes, there were things I wanted to continue. Even if they rejected me.

Like I said, he - and by extension the novel - seems to have no animating goal, no passion, no belief to fight for. Just, "well some things are nice, I guess." Anyway, he tells this to the villain, and is met with "of course you can't understand, you have white privilege." (Note: this is said by an Asian person, in Asia.) This thread, likewise, goes nowhere. Nothing matters, none of it is leading to anything. It's just a headlong rush from plot point to plot point, somehow simultaneously overstuffed and tedious.

I don't know if this book was salvageable. I don't want to cast stones at the author - like I said, he seems well-intentioned - but I think the way the book is written betrays fundamental issues with his worldview as depicted here that aren't going to be solved by a developmental edit. There were certain turns of phrase that I liked, some flickers of potential - but in the immortal words of Charli XCX, I think the apple's rotten right to the core.

[original review 01/07/2025]

that doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about tibetan buddhism to refute it.

idk, this book is clearly trying hard to avoid being about devious, devil-worshipping foreigners who eat human hearts and are trying to destroy the world, but . . . that is, functionally what the book is about. like, I don't know if this is a premise you can salvage. it gestures at the evils of empire, but also our hero's love interest owns a plantation (!!!) it has asian characters fighting for the good guys, but also the bad guys are aided by a bunch of credulous mongolians who literally believe that they're gods. the only thing I think the book succeeded in dodging was the anti-semitic trope of the jewish blood-drinking cabal by having a group of jewish mystics being the key to saving the world, so . . . uh . . . props for that, I guess? felt kind of like it tipped over into philosemitism in a fetish-y way, but okay.

I appreciate the nesting doll structure of the plot (not least which because John was, hm, not the most engaging of protagonists) but ultimately I think the book would have been better served by having just one lead. when your book about nihlism and religion and empire has no central belief to cohere around, it all kind of falls flat. we should save the world because of, uh, love? the very uninspiring love between you and your thinly sketched boyfriend? okay. the plot was being drawn in too many different directions, and ultimately didn't manage to really pull off any of them.

[Kelly Van Damme · Rating 2 out of 5]

Cover love at first sight led me to read the synopsis which tickled me even more and before I knew it, I’d clicked that request button. Unfortunately, my actual reading experience with The Black Hunger was a mixed bag at best, a let-down at worst.

The Black Hunger is a book of very distinctive parts, and the first part just didn’t work for me. It provides the base and the history for the rest of the story, but honestly, I would have preferred the author to cut right to the chase, because I really struggled and if I were the kind of reader to DNF, I would have. The pace was slow and the chapter long. It drones on for about 80 pages without paragraphs, which I hope is a formatting issue that will be fixed in the final edit, although it doesn’t look like it. Moreover, it deals with quite a bit of dense Asian history / myth / religion, which I’m happy to explore to broaden my horizons, but the manner in which it’s presented just didn’t gel with me and didn’t allow me to immerse myself into this new-to-me territory. If anything, it felt never-ending and I lost interest along the way.

Starting the second part, which consists of letters and diary entries, I felt like I started a whole new book. The pace picks up, the main chapter is divided into smaller, more easily digestible parts, and I finally got a whiff of the horror I was supposedly reading. (Admittedly, there was some of that in the first part, mentioning the lore of the hungry ghosts, but it got lost in all the other information that I was meant to process).

Just when I’d got into the swing of things, reading that second part, I was yanked out of it again when I started the next part. Clearly, long and long-winded chapters don’t work for me. I sorta felt like I was reading a transcript of a uni lecture, an endless monologue. And I just lost interest again and never became fully invested. Judging by the many five-star ratings on Goodreads, many people have adored this book, but for me, it was mostly a struggle, and by the end, my brain was exhausted. I really wanted to love this book, it seemed right up my street, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

Thanks to Orbit and NetGalley for the digital review copy. All opinions are my own.

[Lance]

E-ARC generously provided by Orbit/Redhook in exchange for an honest review! Thank you so much.

Queer gothic horror?? 💳💳💳

[Bethany (Beautifully Bookish Bethany) · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 stars rounded up

Mixed feelings on this one. A queer historical gothic horror epistolary novel with nested storytelling, The Black Hunger was a bit of a roller coaster for me.

Parts of the story are interesting and engaging, but the pacing isn't ideal and it does drag at times. The first part of the book in particular is quite slow but is setting a lot of things up. I also felt vaguely uncomfortable with how it was engaging with Buddhism and South Asian culture. There is another review by Gyalten Lekden that does a great job of unpacking these issues, and with a lot more inside knowledge than what I have. I would refer to that for details on what is and isn't done well there, but I didn't love the approach. I get the sense that this was intended to somehow critique colonialism, but I'm not sure it really got there.

That said, we do get a tense atmosphere that slowly builds, with the horror elements being introduced later in the book. There is a central gay relationship that was interesting in how it explored power dynamics and the realities of being queer during this time period. And one of the main characters in a nested story is Jewish, which has some important implications in a book involving cannibalism. There is a thread of showing harmful antisemitism through the book as well.

It's worth noting that this is a debut novel and I do think it shows promise in a lot of areas. Pacing can be improved with practice and while I didn't love some of the specific plot choices here, I would try something different from this author in the future. I received a copy of this book for review from the publisher, all opinions are my own.

[🩶 April • A.M. Flynn • 🩶]

DNF at 40%

[ThatBookish_deviant · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.0/5

[Sen · Rating 2 out of 5]

"North. South. East. West. Come, darkness, come night, come endless peace. Come, Satya Nirvana."

★★

I am very conflicted about this one and I have thoughts. On the one hand, I enjoyed the fact that this was such an interesting blend of genres and that the author was willing to take some risks with various aspects of his debut work. A gothic historical fantasy/horror book with a gay protagonist not focused on romance but still having an important mlm relationship? Hell yeah. I also really enjoyed the narrative structure of The Black Hunger. It's basically all epistolary which granted the storytelling a degree of intimacy and urgency you might not get otherwise. I admit that I was compelled to keep reading to see how things all came together from the three main narratives.

On the other hand, I could not shake this feeling the entire time that certain elements of the story just read as a little too...white savior-y in my opinion. You're telling me that the fate of the world at risk of being destroyed by a sect of Buddhism convinced that the death of all things is the only means to eliminate suffering rests on the shoulders of...a white British scholarly gentleman? Educated at Oxford?? From the ARISTOCRACY??? John, our hero, unfortunately was just as bland and inoffensive as his name would suggest. In fact, none of the core protagonists really diverged from being anything but a, dare I say, noble (white) European man.

Anyway, one of the big plot points is that there's an offshoot of Buddhism, the Dhaumri Karoti, that endorses the destruction of all life as the only solution to ending evil and obtaining everlasting peace. It's worth noting that this is a completely fictional branch of Buddhism created by the author for this book. It did rub me the wrong way that we have this "evil Asian death cult" thing going on and then the force of "good" that is fighting against this seemed to be mostly rooted in Judeo-Christianity. At one point a protagonist who has become unwillingly in thrall to the Dhaumri Karoti and "possessed" with this black hunger has this "possession" reversed when...holy water is thrown at him by a cross-wielding priest? Excusez-moi...WHAT??? Even the predominantly evil monster figures are these "pretas" or hungry ghosts inspired from the Buddhist, Hindu, and Taoist traditions and whose depictions are even lifted from their descriptions in these beliefs with their skinny throats and distended bellies.

Also I wouldn't even say that the main villains are this Buddhist "death cult" actually. The main baddies are just some nefarious mustache-twirling Russian and German nobles (who were also btw the most laughable stereotypes of these kinds of villains imaginable) who are simply using the Dhaumri Karoti to achieve their own villainous plans of world domination. The only character I had any remote investment in was Sidkeong - a prince from the mountain province of Sikkim, India who was sent to England to study, who developed a friendship with our protagonist an English man, who seemed to have dreams of working for a better future for his kingdom, only to have his faith in humanity stripped away after being stabbed in the back by his family and the British empire. Now THAT is a villain I can get behind. There was one point in the story where I was like "damn now we're gettin somewhere" and it was when it was dropped that Mr. Bell may have orchestrated Sidkeong's death. But then the author literally just went jk lol Mr. Bell actually was not directly responsible (complicit at most) and actually he feels dreadful about it. What a slap in the face. Just commit to it, please!!!

It did seem like the author had come to this realization towards the end as well and attempted to expand on things by being like "imperialism BAD" a bit. And you know what, I really did begin to feel some semblance of emotions reading the last few pages, but it was all too little too late in my opinion.

[Miraclesnow · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 ⭐️

A solid novel, but it ventured way more into the historical side of things rather than the horror and therefore didn’t make as much of an impact as I think the author wanted when I reached the climax. The magic was out of touch and not well connected to the realistic setting.

Another thing that I think hindered this story was that the author wasted some of the time introducing characters and a new plotline that wasn’t necessary to flesh out in order to make the story feel important, it took away from what have been the main characters. These side characters could have had their chapter condensed down in order for us to still keep that strong connection with the main ones, because by the end I didn’t care about the present day storyline nearly as much because so much time had been taken to the other characters’ timelines. This significantly ruined any tension and emotional connection I had to our protagonist, and felt rather bad that I had enjoyed the more contained experiences of the other characters instead of the ending of the novel.

[Jamedi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Review originally on JamReads

The Black Hunger is an ambitious queer gothic horror novel, written by Nicholas Pullen, and published by Orbit Books. A story that spawns across the world with an excellent atmosphere that ties together, using an epistolary format, the fates of three men, with elements that remember to the classics of the gothic such as Stoker's Dracula, blended together with historical fiction and a modern touch that will be loved by fans of Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian.

A story that will start with the John Sackville's memory, a gay British Earl in the early 1900s, recounting his life and the horrors that lead to the death of his lover; how his work and the discovery of his relationship with Garrett puts him into danger and forces him into accepting a quest to investigate about an apocalyptic cult formed around apocrypha buddism. In the middle of John's memory, we will also have access to the diaries of Dr. Abravamel, a Jewish psychiatrist who experienced harrowing events during 1876, and Pullen also introduces us to Ian Stewart, a British general that experienced the horror of this cult (and recounts it to his wife) after becoming a prisoner in 1855, in the failed Balaclava's charge. Overall, the three stories are well blended together, and allow us to get a more or less complete picture of what is happening.

The story itself is a great homage to the gothic genre, playing with those elements that became a classic, but with its own touch of queerness, and not exempt from some gory and bloody moments. I was a bit skeptical about the non-chapter structure, but Pullen makes an excellent work, keeping the story flowing without any kind of problem, slowly hooking you into the plot.

The historical setting is also used excellently as a vehicle to discuss themes such as how queerness has been repressed in many moments (we can appreciate how Garrett and John are forced to hide their love, and how they are punished for it) and the impact of colonialism on other cultures. Pullen's writing is incredibly detailed, transporting you with words to Ukraine, to the Tibet, showing the research done to write this novel.

The Black Hunger is an excellent and compelling gothic horror novel, a debut that puts the name of Nicholas Pullen in the list of authors to watch in the future as he has blended the classical with more recent trends to create a novel that can be defined as a perfect approach to the gothic genre. Can't wait to see what more this author has under the sleeve.

[Ashley Daviau · Rating 5 out of 5]

So. Fucking. Good. Nothing else needs to be said, just do yourself a favour and read this book and thank me later.

[Kate (BloggingwithDragons) · Rating 2 out of 5]

I received this book for free from Orbit Books in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.

The Black Hunger sounded like the perfect historical horror novel just in time for the spooky season. I was expecting a read similar to The Historian, but with more elements of horror. Unfortunately, though the premise of the novel is incredibly fascinating, the execution of it just didn't work for me. The Black Hunger is plagued with pacing issues and doesn't get into the horror elements until well into the book.

The novel centers around characters coming to grips with the existence of a dark sect of Buddhism, known as the Black Helmets, with mysterious and terrifying supernatural resources at their disposal. Unlike regular Buddhists, the Black Helmets believe True Nirvana can only be achieved through the annihilation of the planet and everything in it. Pretty standard villain goals, but with some added scariness involving terrifying creatures, cannibalism, and an insatiable hunger. I have to say that I am a pretty big coward when it comes to scary things and though the creatures of this novel are definitely creepy, nothing actually outright spooked me. So if scares are what readers are looking for The Black Hunger may not be the right read for them. 

“The line between madness and religious experience is often rather indistinct….”

While the marketing of the novel informs that “terror is a journey,” I did not expect to have to undertake such a long one for the horror elements to even come into play in the novel. In fact, the first appearance of something supernatural was on page 121. In a 325 paged book* marketed as a horror story that seems to be pretty far into the story in my personal opinion. Perhaps the wait would have been more tolerable for me if I had liked the first section of The Black Hunger, which focused on a young queer nobleman, John Sackwell, pursuing his (supposed) passion in Oriental Studies at Oxford with his secret lover (and servant), Garrett Benson, in tow.

I was indifferent to most of the characters in The Black Hunger, unable to really care much about them at all, but John was the one that I was detached from the most. His two defining character traits are loving Garrett and being a nobleman. John is supposedly passionate about Oriental studies, but the novel frames it more like he wanted to be different and that is why he chose to study Sanskrit and Buddhism. We also never really see his education or supposed expertise in action, as he always seems completely bewildered and out of his league. Though The Black Hunger does devote quite a bit of page space to his understanding of Buddhism and its roots, and its clear that the author did a ton of research into the religion, but sadly, the content is pretty dull and I worried that the set up would never be over. 

I wondered at the choice of the novel to open with John's portion, as his life of privilege is pretty easy except for the unique challenge of hiding his lifelong queer romance, which is frowned upon during this time period. I was much more invested in the parts of the novel that featured Dr. Samuel Abravanel and his investigations into the alleged madness of his former fiancée, Clara, who lost her husband to an untimely death of a mysterious nature. Nothing says horror quite like a (potentially) madwoman locked away in a Gothic manor in the middle of nowhere with family members with ulterior motives lurking behind every corner. I would have happily read an entire novel centering around this part of The Black Hunger.

“Some things are not learned lightly. Perhaps later you will understand.”

Despite my heightened interest in this portion of the novel, I was a bit thrown that this section switched to an epistolary style. Suddenly everything is told through letters and diary entries when it wasn't before and isn't after. Perhaps this switch is why this is the most immersive part of the story ofThe Black Hunger. This part of the novel, especially a revealing letter that flashbacks to events from the past with huge potential repercussions for the future of the world, was my favorite part and pretty gripping. I think it would have also been a stronger place to start the novel, even if it was just snippets from that letter at the beginning of each chapter that hinted at the bigger picture and the horrors to come. 

Perhaps excerpts from the letter would have created a more cohesive feel to The Black Hunger,which I felt struggled with pacing issues. In the beginning, I felt like almost nothing was happening and was confused where the novel was even going, and then it switched perspectives on me, also ramping up the action. With the action scenes themselves, I was flabbergasted at how quickly the events played out. On one page, a violent scene is shared to be unfolding, a character rushes to the scene to witness it firsthand—barely unable to process what he's seeing—and then it's all over within mere paragraphs. I had to reread that part because I thought there was no way something supernatural and that powerful could have been dealt with so quickly. What little tension and concern I felt at the pronouncement of the horrific scene was quickly replaced with disbelief at how soon it was over.  And this isn't the only time something like that happens in what amounts to mere moments in the novel. This might not be a problem for some readers, but I found it required enough suspension of disbelief on my part that it took me right out of the events of the novel.

Unfortunately, though The Black Hunger has a fantastic premise and a really interesting middle portion, the rest of the novel just didn't really work for me. I feel like I just wasn't the intended audience. I think fans of historical horror that don't mind patiently muddling through plenty of story setup and waiting for the actual horror elements to come into play will find plenty to love here.

*I read an ARC of this novel, page numbers may vary in final publication.

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[sassafrass · Rating 4 out of 5]

this book definitely started much stronger than it finished, however i had a real hoot with it. it feels like hammer horror meets lovecraft meets the terror. there was a point where a character sincerely utters the phrase 'god help us all' which i haven't seen or heard in media since what feels like 2011 and i hooted out loud with the unexpected glee.

now, onto the weird stuff: this book has no chapters. this is fine, i was in fact impressed with how the writer managed to keep up the flow of the story without any breaks (except for the book being split into parts, and the segment where it was diaries and letters) and maintain a steady pace. HOWEVER i have a life to live, and cannot just sit and read 102 pages before hitting a break. it meant i had to keep putting the book down mid story, and felt like i was hanging up on someone in the midst of a sentence. i get that this was meant to be written in the style of a report/confessional, but not even a little * between parts so i can put my book down and get back to my desk job?

also this typo on page 197 was so egregious: 'He worse a blood red rose on his lapel.' I tried to look up different meanings here and be charitable, but no. That is genuinely a typo that just got through editorial into the final book, and this isn't a small publisher either! Orbit get your shit together!!!

Also there were a couple of times toward the end of the book, where the editor was once again asleep at the wheel, where repeated sentences started cropping up. a lot of 'i could not understand what i was seeing' [two lines later] 'i could not comprehend what i was seeing' i get it, i think he is struggling to perhaps understand what is before his eyeballs.

all this aside, it's a very vivid, juicy (in more ways than one) historical horror novel that is great for the mummy/indiana jones/the terror lover in your life.

do NOT read this before you need to eat dinner.

[Bethany Jacobs · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've been wanting to read this since I heard about it, and man it did not disappoint. This is a stirring, intelligent, utterly engrossing gothic horror, with a beautiful queer romance at its center. It's not a book for the faint of heart, and it promises a new, compelling voice in horror. I listened to it on audiobook, and narrator Peter Kenny was awesome.⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[Jordan (Forever Lost in Literature) · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the type of horror that I love. Slow burn, full of dread, a bit esoteric and dense, and entirely mesmerizing. It's been too long since I've read something that feels like such a delightful treat.

[Sam Roth · Rating 2 out of 5]

What if Sam & Frodo but death cult

[Frankie · Rating 4 out of 5]

This feels like Buddhist Da Vinci Code, or a queer The Historian. It's basically a queer gothic horror tale set in South and Central Asia, featuring a horrifying death cult that wants to destroy the world!

Admittedly, I was wary going into this book because I saw some reviewers who were disappointed by the way the author handled Buddhism. I'm not Buddhist, so I can't determine whether it's inaccurate or not (aside from the obvious fantastical elements). I also understand some readers' concerns considering a) the author is a white Canadian man and b) the main character is a British aristocrat stationed in India in the early 1900s (though he is gay and quite more liberal than his colleagues, with a very modern set of morals). And yes, I think he used the Wendigo mythology wrong but... as far as I can tell, there's nothing particularly malicious about this novel's intent. It was a really fun ride for me and absolutely up my alley. It broke my reading slump ;) That said, if you're sensitive to that treatment, then I recommend for you to read the other reviews.

MC John is a minor countryside aristocrat who attends Oxford and studies Buddhism and Indian texts. He is accompanied by his "manservant", childhood friend Garrett who is also his lover -- the two men have basically spent their entire lives together but have to hide their relationship due to the time period. After graduation, John is assigned to be an administrator in the remote state of Sikkim, India, which borders Tibet and Nepal. This suits him just fine, because he wants to study an obscure branch of Buddhism -- the Blackeners, in English -- that have only been mentioned at the fringes of ancient texts. But as John investigates this group, he gets embroiled in a supernatural cult that might just end the world.

Anyway, what more can I say? I loved the creepy cult horror aspect. I loved the fact that this was a historical novel first and foremost. I loved the setting, since I always search for books set in Asia. I loved the beautiful, old-fashioned prose. My only real complaint is that the middle part of this book was really dragging and I kept wishing we would return to John's story. I skipped a bit... The novel is told epistolary-style, so the middle portion is made up of letters and documents written by other people. But once I reached the end, I was absolutely blown away. And I felt really empty, the way you usually do when you finish a good book with a sad, bittersweet ending :')

[Matthew Condello · Rating 5 out of 5]

A thrilling, heartbreaking, epic work of fantastical horror that centered a beautiful gay love story. I couldn’t put it down. It won’t be for everyone. It’s a slow burn and there’s a lot of talking and history and religion, but I ate it up. It was everything I love and push the boundaries of what horror can be. it was executed with care and passion and meticulous detail. One of the best things I’ve read this year.

[Jessica · Rating 1 out of 5]

Unfortunately this book wasn’t for me. Nothing at all pulled me into the story and it was a struggle the whole way through.

The first part is tedious, long winded, and extremely boring with details of ancient Asian spirituality and customs. It bogs down the book right from the get go. While I appreciate the research into it this was a bit much.

Then we go into another long winded chapter comprised of journal entries and letters and it’s as if we are reading a completely different book. A different book that is just as long winded and boring.

The entire book is tedious with tiny spurts of interest that then get bogged down by uninteresting and unnecessary details.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the opportunity to read this ARC in exchange for an honest review!

[abi · Rating 2 out of 5]

1.5*

i’m being generous with the rating because i don’t think it was meant to be as offensive as it ended up being. but, um, yeah, this wasn’t great.

[Michael Erickson · Rating 5 out of 5]

There are a lot of things going on here that are right up my alley: nested stories within stories, cannibal death cults, atmospheric-as-hell Gothic prose, real-world places that geography nerds geek out over, a well-written gay couple, epistolary, and just a bleak, doomed-from-the-beginning narrative. I was always going to like this.

This book is a long journey across multiple Old World locales, told through three protagonists that are separated decades apart from each other. It's told from most recent (the 1910's), to older (winter of 1876), to oldest (the Crimean War in 1856), then back up through both levels. And interestingly the pacing seemed to mimic this structure; the more recent events happened quicker and the oldest section in the middle was the most slow-paced. While yes, at the end of the day we're still following three British dudes during the peak of their Empire, they did manage to feel quite distinct from one another.

I've seen a lot of reviewers wringing their hands over how this could be construed as a West vs. East white savior narrative, but that feels like performative pearl-clutching to me. Yes the main antagonists are a secretive, banished sect of Buddhism and yes our three leads have a shared interest in Eastern religions as a linking characteristic. But that interest is what allowed them to get roped into the plot in the first place, and they find plenty of Asian allies who have been fighting the good fight long before European colonization. Also, spoiler, hard to argue the savior angle when John ultimately fails in the climax.

The horror ranges from subtle, "wait, what was that?," passing mentions to outright in-your-face action, but it does all fit in and doesn't feel like unearned jump scares. And even though the beginning sets me up to expect the worst, I was still gutted when it happened and hoped against hope that the past wouldn't come to pass. Overall I thought it was a great read with characters I connected with, and I appreciate when horror is allowed to dress itself up in high-brow and literary language.

[Mike Forrest · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had a tough time deciding whether to give this book 3 or 4 stars, but as you see, I arrived at 4. First and foremost, I was surprised by the homoerotic nature of much of the story as there were no warnings- typically not my cup of tea, but it ended up being crucial to the story. The book as a whole can be neatly broken up into three major sections, which I will rate and review separately.

Section 1- This section, as is often the case, introduced us to major characters, themes, setting etc., which is all well and good, except it was legitimately the full first third of the book, 33%, and in which there a massive info dump about the setting. In fairness, these portions are extremely well researched and it seems the author did his due diligence, but was overwhelming at times. Up until the last few pages of this section, nothing particularly interesting happens, and as mentioned above, this is quit a bit of man-on-man action, which I was not prepared for. This section almost drew a DNF from me, but I pushed forward. Character development was acceptable, but not dazzling, and the main romantic relationship felt very one dimensional, something that carried through the book. 3 stars

Section 2- this section, in my opinion, was the best part of the book. It is recounted to the reader through an epistolary fashion, that, while interesting, did not seem organic, and at times felt forced. I often found myself thinking, “Nobody would write this in a letter to someone else.” Or, “Who would write this in their journal?” All that being said, this was a very riveting third of the book that I almost wish had been a standalone with a bit more fleshing out. 4-4.5 stars

Section 3- In this section we have all the actual action, conflict, and struggle missing from section 1. The pacing felt a bit off in places, and some of the connection I think the author intended didn’t quite hit home, but overall it was a decent ending with well thought out components. 3.5 stars.

Lastly, the writing. To say this was an easy read would be misleading. There were many words used that were unknown to me, but that would only really be known to anyone who has researched or lived in the part of the world in which the story takes place. I do not, however, mean that this was not a fast read. Especially after the slog of section 1, the book moved very quickly and I was motivated to find out what happened next.

Thank you to the author,RedHook books, and NetGalley for the ARC in return for an honest review.

[Katrina]

Dnfed so no rating given

This just didn’t work for me, the long rambling chapters had me tuning out which doesn’t often happen when i’m reading an ebook or physical (it can happen with audios more often). I did get gothic vibes from it so that was done well and the cover and description really caught my attention. I just feel this could have been shortened and broken down into more chapters to improve the pacing. I also feel like it could have gotten to the main plot quicker with world building and background fed in alongside the plot rather than having such a big chunk of the start spent setting it up. I saw another review describe it as similar to a script from a university lecture and I would agree, so if that was the intention then well done but that’s not something I enjoy reading

[Nick Gaspard’s Reviews · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Great Thriller!

So this book really did surprise me. It came in the mail, a special edition in their Halloween Box.

If you are into historical gothic fiction with a supernatural thriller flair, then you will probably give it 5 stars. The reason I did not give it 5 is because I was expecting it to be a horror novel, and I never truly got scared or anything. It’s probably just a “me” thing.

[Marla Kate · Rating 5 out of 5]

The layout of this was such a well-paid off risk!! It followed one character through long narration and another two through letters and diary entries. Dr Samuel’s section especially was reminiscent of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and the whole book reminded me why I love gothic horror so much

My only issue was the romance. I rarely care that much when the romance centres on a couple that are together from the beginning, but that’s a personal preference rather than a slight on the writing

Anyway. Happy pride. This is my second lgbt book of the month about cannibalism. I swear it’s not on purpose

[Robert Prather · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a freight train of a historical fiction horror novel with a touch of MM romance. Difficult to stop reading. At the end leaves you wondering - did that shit happen?? Perfection.