This book had been on my TBR pile for a long time – the glorious cover from A.A.Medina, reminiscent of Kealan Patrick Burke’s work - was an almost instant buy, yet Jules sold the book without a shadow of a doubt with her fantastic prelaunch series of video clips, her Spanish accent sealing the deal and leaving no doubts, at least in this reader’s mind- that I needed to buy a horror book that was “sad, very, very sad, yet with a splash of monster-fucking.”
I’m not going to label that as a spoiler, if the author herself advertised the book so, it’s good for me.
Epiphany introduces some wonderful Spanish folklore, based around the festival of Epiphany. That itself is wonderful to know because I had assumed the word Epiphany had been taken for its English meaning – “a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something” – describing the event as it happened. How cool is that – the average Native English speaker has an epiphany whilst reading the book Epiphany. I’m 90% sure that wasn’t intended, but that’s where we are. That the character of Coral has an epiphany about the identity and nature of the tree “spirit” also solidifies that very well-chosen title.
The story is told in various forms; there are Epistolary inserts that link together the last weeks of a dead character’s life, interviewing a prisoner who tells their side of a supernatural murder case, and this is a backdrop to the main character, the wife of the deceased interviewer, who is expecting their baby. Grief horror weaves its web throughout, to a background of Spanish folklore, with hints of witchcraft, with disturbing elements such as child grooming and misuse of positional power and underage sex setting the complete package on fire. With the background the prisoner describes, it is hard not to sympathize with her, despite her lack of emotion or sympathy for those she kills. It all makes sense in the context of her story, making the whole novel flash by happily in a “horror – but justified horror” kind of way.
Gach’s prose is as smooth as her voice, it’s very readable and believable. The magic, when it happens, is not explained or questioned, and that fits the subgenre perfectly. You might miss the sex scene if you blink, but that isn’t what the story is really about – it’s about the suspension of disbelief and the immersion of oneself into a gloriously convincing Spanish Folklore novel, which smoothly pulls you along in its wake, rooting for the characters and wanting the impossible to be made possible. The interwoven threads hint at great things to come in Gach’s future, which I will be following closely and with interest.
This gets 5 out of 5 ⭐’s and I look forward to many more videos of J.V.Gach’s accent, enticing me once more to buy her sad, very, very sad horror books.
Monster-fucking or not, I’m in.