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We Like It Cherry
Ezra Montbanc is burned out. The reality series he hosts—immersing himself into the cultures and celebrations of Indigenous tribes—borders on pure exploitation and has been relegated to tax write-off status by the network; this was not the prestigious journalism career he had long envisioned.
Everything changes when Ezra receives an invitation to document the rites of a mysterious, hitherto unknown tribe: the Winoquin, who reside in the harrowing, inhospitable Arctic. Ezra and his crew depart immediately for the home of the Winoquin, only to find themselves in a bloody battle for survival against a mythical horror with a serious grudge against modern man.
We Like It Cherry is a story about identity and the quest for success, splashed with supernatural slasher vibes and the nailbiting relentlessness of survival horror.
Everything changes when Ezra receives an invitation to document the rites of a mysterious, hitherto unknown tribe: the Winoquin, who reside in the harrowing, inhospitable Arctic. Ezra and his crew depart immediately for the home of the Winoquin, only to find themselves in a bloody battle for survival against a mythical horror with a serious grudge against modern man.
We Like It Cherry is a story about identity and the quest for success, splashed with supernatural slasher vibes and the nailbiting relentlessness of survival horror.
158 pages, Paperback
Published July 31, 2025
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4126 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 44 reviews
April 14, 2025
This is the kind of book that makes you go and buy the author's all other books - you just can't have enough of that feeling that you're reading something both genuinely horrific and terribly important; a story told from a perspective transcending the merely plausible, and taking a deep dive into those everyday fears bordering the seldom visited darkness of existential dread.
At least that's how I myself experienced "We Like It Cherry," a harrowing tale of survival horror and deep cultural conflict: as a sort of coming-of-age novel, where the protagonists, however, don't grow from childhood to adulthood, but seem to move from the socially imposed hypocrisy of adulthood to the unwelcome agony of brutal self-honesty; under a cold-eyed stare as freezing cold as the snow vistas of the story itself.
This kind of reading experience took me by surprise, since the first third of the book had me longing for a "Cannibal Holocaust meets Simmons' 'The Terror'" type of book; "We Like It Cherry" is something entirely different though: the book is unabashedly supernatural, the conflicts of viewpoints between the indigenous tribe and the TV crew feel absolutely authentic and are thoughfully presented, with uncanny attention to detail - yet the cannibalistic hunters speak like wise men, and the burned-out documentary host reveals a spiritual mindset far stronger than that of any so-called religious personas on screen today. (Perhaps this is why the epilogue came as such a shock!)
Finally, I should mention as well the compelling and balanced portrayal of the gay couple in the center of the book: if that makes the novel count as "queer horror," we definitely need more of it. Not only does it get it right, it feels right as well.
In sum, this is a chilling (pun intended), eerie and immersive read, the dread growing as the temperature drops. It captivated me from the very first pages, and kept me hooked to the page till the very end. Highly recommended!
At least that's how I myself experienced "We Like It Cherry," a harrowing tale of survival horror and deep cultural conflict: as a sort of coming-of-age novel, where the protagonists, however, don't grow from childhood to adulthood, but seem to move from the socially imposed hypocrisy of adulthood to the unwelcome agony of brutal self-honesty; under a cold-eyed stare as freezing cold as the snow vistas of the story itself.
This kind of reading experience took me by surprise, since the first third of the book had me longing for a "Cannibal Holocaust meets Simmons' 'The Terror'" type of book; "We Like It Cherry" is something entirely different though: the book is unabashedly supernatural, the conflicts of viewpoints between the indigenous tribe and the TV crew feel absolutely authentic and are thoughfully presented, with uncanny attention to detail - yet the cannibalistic hunters speak like wise men, and the burned-out documentary host reveals a spiritual mindset far stronger than that of any so-called religious personas on screen today. (Perhaps this is why the epilogue came as such a shock!)
Finally, I should mention as well the compelling and balanced portrayal of the gay couple in the center of the book: if that makes the novel count as "queer horror," we definitely need more of it. Not only does it get it right, it feels right as well.
In sum, this is a chilling (pun intended), eerie and immersive read, the dread growing as the temperature drops. It captivated me from the very first pages, and kept me hooked to the page till the very end. Highly recommended!
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January 10, 2026
It was trucking along to a four-star (with thoughts) read until that last chapter.
I can see what Morris was trying to do, but for me, the stereotype subversion just didn't work for me. Also the whole "we like it cherry" thing didn't work for me, even after the explanation.
I can see what Morris was trying to do, but for me, the stereotype subversion just didn't work for me. Also the whole "we like it cherry" thing didn't work for me, even after the explanation.
Want to read
October 3, 2025i see NO ONE talking about this book!! i need to read this- the cover?? the blurb? ugh this sounds perfect for me! 😔💔
June 27, 2025
I love discovering new authors, and Jacy Morris is an exceptional writer. I didn’t know how badly I needed Arctic survival horror until now 👏🏼
The story follows Ezra and his team of documentarians who produce an ethnically-themed TV series exploring the cultures and celebrations of indigenous tribes. Just as Ezra fears his show is on the verge of cancellation, he gets a last-ditch opportunity to revive it: a chance to film a mysterious tribe known as the Winoquin, who reside deep in the Arctic. They’re invited to document a rare ritual held atop a remote glacier, but what starts as a dream assignment quickly spirals into a nightmarish fight for survival. The crew soon realizes they’re not just there to observe… they’ve become part of the ritual.
This book completely blew me away! It’s creepy, unpredictable, and absolutely drenched in blood, with a solid cast of characters. I was especially drawn to Ezra and Stu’s relationship; their struggle to be accepted as a couple felt heartbreakingly real, and I rooted for them from the start. It blends survival horror and ritualistic violence with the quieter terror of queer existence in a hostile world. Themes of rejection, bigotry, and emotional survival are handled with care. This is a survival story in every sense, and it doesn’t shy away from showing the unimaginable lengths people go to in order to stay alive. WARNING: The violence gets extremely bloody (reminiscent of Cannibal Holocaust), with one graphic scene involving a seal’s death that was tough to read, so go in prepared.
What really stood out though, was the atmosphere. The icy hellscape is so vividly described, you can practically feel the chill sinking into your bones. The glacier becomes a character in itself, ripping skin from flesh and skinning you alive layer by layer as you journey through the ice alongside them.
Overall, this is a fantastic story of sacrifice, transformation, and rebirth. If you’re looking for cannibalistic horror set in the Arctic with supernatural elements, otherworldly rituals, humanoid creatures and a deep exploration of love- I highly recommend this book.
The story follows Ezra and his team of documentarians who produce an ethnically-themed TV series exploring the cultures and celebrations of indigenous tribes. Just as Ezra fears his show is on the verge of cancellation, he gets a last-ditch opportunity to revive it: a chance to film a mysterious tribe known as the Winoquin, who reside deep in the Arctic. They’re invited to document a rare ritual held atop a remote glacier, but what starts as a dream assignment quickly spirals into a nightmarish fight for survival. The crew soon realizes they’re not just there to observe… they’ve become part of the ritual.
This book completely blew me away! It’s creepy, unpredictable, and absolutely drenched in blood, with a solid cast of characters. I was especially drawn to Ezra and Stu’s relationship; their struggle to be accepted as a couple felt heartbreakingly real, and I rooted for them from the start. It blends survival horror and ritualistic violence with the quieter terror of queer existence in a hostile world. Themes of rejection, bigotry, and emotional survival are handled with care. This is a survival story in every sense, and it doesn’t shy away from showing the unimaginable lengths people go to in order to stay alive. WARNING: The violence gets extremely bloody (reminiscent of Cannibal Holocaust), with one graphic scene involving a seal’s death that was tough to read, so go in prepared.
What really stood out though, was the atmosphere. The icy hellscape is so vividly described, you can practically feel the chill sinking into your bones. The glacier becomes a character in itself, ripping skin from flesh and skinning you alive layer by layer as you journey through the ice alongside them.
Overall, this is a fantastic story of sacrifice, transformation, and rebirth. If you’re looking for cannibalistic horror set in the Arctic with supernatural elements, otherworldly rituals, humanoid creatures and a deep exploration of love- I highly recommend this book.
August 5, 2025
Review originally on JamReads
We Like It Cherry is a folk horror novella, written by Jacy Morris and published by Tenebrous Press. A novella that blends together a human story in the middle of a survival horror situation with the own journey experienced by the characters, delivering an equally shocking but moving plot that also reveals a message about accepting ourselves and pursuing the passion that moves us.
The plot is focused on Ezra Montblanc, host of Indigenous Insider, a reality series that started as an attempt to immerse himself in the cultures of various indigenous tribes; despite his ambitions, the project has evolved into a cynical enterprise. He's also afraid of coming out as gay, as he's in a relationship with Stu, the cameraman. The chance of a lifetime appears when Maq, a member of the Winoqin tribe, who live undisturbed in the remote Artic, invites them to come and record a rare ritual that will take place on a glacier; a chance that ends as a struggle for survival against a supernatural horror and against the elements, providing one of the tensest experiences I've read in years.
Ezra is a marvelously fleshed character: disowned by his parents, afraid of being his true self due to the fear of losing more in his life. He's only close to Stu, but it is a relationship that is kept closeted as he's chasing stardom; the struggle is real, but we can see how they try to support each other, even in the worst of situations.
The Winoqin, and Maq in particular, are another particularly interesting element: as a tribe that has been disconnected from the rest of the world, we can see how certain concepts such as shame and fame are stupid for them, having a different system of ethics; the clash of philosophies between theirs and ours is present alongside the novella. There's a tone behind about how something is ending, and how it might be due to climate change, actions provoked by the West.
Morris manages to weave an incredibly tense atmosphere at every single moment; not only due to how inhospitable is the environment, but once the real intentions of the Winoqin are revealed. The tension only grows across the board, and the introduction of really gory scenes contributes to enhancing the experience, shocking the reader; and when we finally reach the climax, a sigh of relief will be the probable answer.
We Like It Cherry is a superb novella, a folk survival horror that could be described as the son between Midsommar and Green Inferno; Tenebrous delivering another excellent title that you will love as long as horror is your jam!
We Like It Cherry is a folk horror novella, written by Jacy Morris and published by Tenebrous Press. A novella that blends together a human story in the middle of a survival horror situation with the own journey experienced by the characters, delivering an equally shocking but moving plot that also reveals a message about accepting ourselves and pursuing the passion that moves us.
The plot is focused on Ezra Montblanc, host of Indigenous Insider, a reality series that started as an attempt to immerse himself in the cultures of various indigenous tribes; despite his ambitions, the project has evolved into a cynical enterprise. He's also afraid of coming out as gay, as he's in a relationship with Stu, the cameraman. The chance of a lifetime appears when Maq, a member of the Winoqin tribe, who live undisturbed in the remote Artic, invites them to come and record a rare ritual that will take place on a glacier; a chance that ends as a struggle for survival against a supernatural horror and against the elements, providing one of the tensest experiences I've read in years.
Ezra is a marvelously fleshed character: disowned by his parents, afraid of being his true self due to the fear of losing more in his life. He's only close to Stu, but it is a relationship that is kept closeted as he's chasing stardom; the struggle is real, but we can see how they try to support each other, even in the worst of situations.
The Winoqin, and Maq in particular, are another particularly interesting element: as a tribe that has been disconnected from the rest of the world, we can see how certain concepts such as shame and fame are stupid for them, having a different system of ethics; the clash of philosophies between theirs and ours is present alongside the novella. There's a tone behind about how something is ending, and how it might be due to climate change, actions provoked by the West.
Morris manages to weave an incredibly tense atmosphere at every single moment; not only due to how inhospitable is the environment, but once the real intentions of the Winoqin are revealed. The tension only grows across the board, and the introduction of really gory scenes contributes to enhancing the experience, shocking the reader; and when we finally reach the climax, a sigh of relief will be the probable answer.
We Like It Cherry is a superb novella, a folk survival horror that could be described as the son between Midsommar and Green Inferno; Tenebrous delivering another excellent title that you will love as long as horror is your jam!
March 17, 2025
I was provided a digital ARC by the publisher for the purposes of review. All views and opinions are my own.
-
We Like it Cherry is the forthcoming Survival Horror novel from author Jacy Morris.
Calling Morris's book "Survival Horror" is not just a matter of attaching label for categorization. I would argue that the types of stories that so often get thrown into this category have some form of "person X gets thrown into situation Y, and this is how they survive". I'm not denying there is absolutely some of that in this book. I'll even say that there are direct nods to infamous horror film classics of the genre, namely "Cannibal Holocaust" (more about that in a moment).
Horror isn't created in a vacuum, each story is born from the seeds, consciously or not from elements from and influences from real life. Morris seems very conscious of this , for his book speaks to a larger idea "The Horror of Survival". To his credit, the author does not shy away from the themes that tied to this idea, namely: survival in the face cultural homogenization and erasure, Queer survival amidst bigotry and homophobia, Survival amidst upheaval brought on by a rapidly changing global climate.
The infamous survival horror film (and patient zero for found footage horror) "Cannibal Holocaust", was something that immediately came to mind as Ezra and his crew journeyed to the far north of the World. On the face of it, as the story begins, it seems that they are heading towards a similar scenario as the aforementioned film. It wouldn't be the first horror story that has walked that path, but the path of Ezra and company is cold and we are soon shown how incorrect our previous assumption was.
"Cannibal Holocaust" is part of a larger long standing trope of "European adjacent people encounter the other in the form of Indigenous stereotypes from [insert this non European part of the world]" .
Morris's book takes this assumption, and this trope and calmly and swiftly rams a Harpoon through it, and it makes me love this book all the more for doing that.
Remember that this book is about the Horror OF Survival. It's the things that people are forced to do to survive, the choices that they are forced to make when faced with continued existence or fading out. Harsh, and grissly deeds are presented with a slasher flair, but not devoid of meaning or substance but presented as part of a lived reality that is harder, older and in some ways more fulfilling.
I would be remiss if I did not call out Morris's depiction of the Far Northern edge of the world the Winoquin inhabit. Nature is shown at a great and terrible scale here that borders on "Cosmic Horror" it is vast, beautiful, cruel and indifferent. Scenes on the ocean were especially gripping, you could almost feel chill of the water, the numbing of the flesh.
Wrap yourself in a blanket, get cozy and let Jacy Morris hack you off a crimson piece of this moving, well written and absolutely relentless story.
-
We Like it Cherry is the forthcoming Survival Horror novel from author Jacy Morris.
Calling Morris's book "Survival Horror" is not just a matter of attaching label for categorization. I would argue that the types of stories that so often get thrown into this category have some form of "person X gets thrown into situation Y, and this is how they survive". I'm not denying there is absolutely some of that in this book. I'll even say that there are direct nods to infamous horror film classics of the genre, namely "Cannibal Holocaust" (more about that in a moment).
Horror isn't created in a vacuum, each story is born from the seeds, consciously or not from elements from and influences from real life. Morris seems very conscious of this , for his book speaks to a larger idea "The Horror of Survival". To his credit, the author does not shy away from the themes that tied to this idea, namely: survival in the face cultural homogenization and erasure, Queer survival amidst bigotry and homophobia, Survival amidst upheaval brought on by a rapidly changing global climate.
The infamous survival horror film (and patient zero for found footage horror) "Cannibal Holocaust", was something that immediately came to mind as Ezra and his crew journeyed to the far north of the World. On the face of it, as the story begins, it seems that they are heading towards a similar scenario as the aforementioned film. It wouldn't be the first horror story that has walked that path, but the path of Ezra and company is cold and we are soon shown how incorrect our previous assumption was.
"Cannibal Holocaust" is part of a larger long standing trope of "European adjacent people encounter the other in the form of Indigenous stereotypes from [insert this non European part of the world]" .
Morris's book takes this assumption, and this trope and calmly and swiftly rams a Harpoon through it, and it makes me love this book all the more for doing that.
Remember that this book is about the Horror OF Survival. It's the things that people are forced to do to survive, the choices that they are forced to make when faced with continued existence or fading out. Harsh, and grissly deeds are presented with a slasher flair, but not devoid of meaning or substance but presented as part of a lived reality that is harder, older and in some ways more fulfilling.
I would be remiss if I did not call out Morris's depiction of the Far Northern edge of the world the Winoquin inhabit. Nature is shown at a great and terrible scale here that borders on "Cosmic Horror" it is vast, beautiful, cruel and indifferent. Scenes on the ocean were especially gripping, you could almost feel chill of the water, the numbing of the flesh.
Wrap yourself in a blanket, get cozy and let Jacy Morris hack you off a crimson piece of this moving, well written and absolutely relentless story.
May 16, 2025
Darkly atmospheric—Jacy Morris expertly crafts mounting dread, making stellar use of the frozen and inhospitable setting of the frozen north. Achingly human, WE LIKE IT CHERRY is a story of love and humanity as much as it is horror and the supernatural. Bloody, frozen and full of heart.
May 25, 2025
We Like It Cherry by Jacy Morris
Ezra, a young host of an indigenous culture show, agrees to document a rare ritual of the Winoquin tribe in the Arctic. What is bound to be his big break becomes a frigid cherry-red nightmare for him, his producer, sound guy, and cameraman. The Winoquin will do whatever it takes to buy more time on this earthly plane. "We like it cherry" has a meaning that will test the team's resolve to the bitter end.
I liked Ezra very much. He's of indigenous decent, but with the ties to the past being faded away to memory after each generation, there is no clear path for him to follow. His journey is rife with heartbreak and stagnation. He is also in a secret relationship with his cameraman, Stu, which keeps him from experiencing love to the fullest. I found his inner thoughts to feel real and the lengths he went to for love to be inspiring. I was rooting for him the whole way through.
The prologue is so memorable and is a perfect setup to Ezra's story. I have not read survival horror that involves spirituality in a long time. Jacy does a fabulous job of balancing character attitudes and ratcheting up the suspense. I was in the same position as the team, not having a clue of what was about to happen, and each shock felt masterfully calibrated. The ancestral endurance of the Winoquin is a captivating story on its own.
I've read a few of Jacy's books now, and it's safe to say he's among my favorite authors. The loss of indigenous culture is a common theme he writes about, but each work of his fiction is bespoke with different flourishes of horror and somberness that fit the story being told. In this case, survival horror in the expanse of icey waters, glaciers, and frozen mountains.
"Its grandeur mesmerized him, much more so than the blackboard waters waiting for someone to etch a message upon them." Beautiful sentences like this kept me in a cold cadence and in that cold hell even though I read this poolside in Cancún.
Don't miss this one. It's one of Jacy's best.
follow my other reviews:
https://www.instagram.com/rickysrocki...
@jacymorrisauthor
@tenebrouspress
#survivalhorror #horror #Arctic #bookreview #blood #sacrifice #ancestral
Ezra, a young host of an indigenous culture show, agrees to document a rare ritual of the Winoquin tribe in the Arctic. What is bound to be his big break becomes a frigid cherry-red nightmare for him, his producer, sound guy, and cameraman. The Winoquin will do whatever it takes to buy more time on this earthly plane. "We like it cherry" has a meaning that will test the team's resolve to the bitter end.
I liked Ezra very much. He's of indigenous decent, but with the ties to the past being faded away to memory after each generation, there is no clear path for him to follow. His journey is rife with heartbreak and stagnation. He is also in a secret relationship with his cameraman, Stu, which keeps him from experiencing love to the fullest. I found his inner thoughts to feel real and the lengths he went to for love to be inspiring. I was rooting for him the whole way through.
The prologue is so memorable and is a perfect setup to Ezra's story. I have not read survival horror that involves spirituality in a long time. Jacy does a fabulous job of balancing character attitudes and ratcheting up the suspense. I was in the same position as the team, not having a clue of what was about to happen, and each shock felt masterfully calibrated. The ancestral endurance of the Winoquin is a captivating story on its own.
I've read a few of Jacy's books now, and it's safe to say he's among my favorite authors. The loss of indigenous culture is a common theme he writes about, but each work of his fiction is bespoke with different flourishes of horror and somberness that fit the story being told. In this case, survival horror in the expanse of icey waters, glaciers, and frozen mountains.
"Its grandeur mesmerized him, much more so than the blackboard waters waiting for someone to etch a message upon them." Beautiful sentences like this kept me in a cold cadence and in that cold hell even though I read this poolside in Cancún.
Don't miss this one. It's one of Jacy's best.
follow my other reviews:
https://www.instagram.com/rickysrocki...
@jacymorrisauthor
@tenebrouspress
#survivalhorror #horror #Arctic #bookreview #blood #sacrifice #ancestral
July 15, 2025
This was such a unique horror story and turned out being one that I'm still thinking about a month after finishing it. I absolutely loved how the struggles of Ezra, our main character, were at the forefront. The fear that he holds for being judged, for losing everything he's worked for, even though he's feeling incredibly disillusioned by it all. Then, going through the harrowing events in the Arctic, there's the horror of isolation, of language barrier, and of losing the one person he loves more than anything in the world.
I loved how this was horror, but it was also a story about self-discovery and about finding the strength to be who you are and be proud of who you are. I couldn't even hate the Winoquin because it wasn't as though they were doing these things out of hatred. It was tradition and it was something more than man that was coming through.
Thoroughly enjoyed this one, and I'd love to read it again at some point.
I loved how this was horror, but it was also a story about self-discovery and about finding the strength to be who you are and be proud of who you are. I couldn't even hate the Winoquin because it wasn't as though they were doing these things out of hatred. It was tradition and it was something more than man that was coming through.
Thoroughly enjoyed this one, and I'd love to read it again at some point.
July 4, 2025
An excellent survival horror story with deep themes and a nice emotional core. Hell yeah.
June 27, 2025
I'm not sure I've ever read another horror book where I cringed, or put my hand over my mouth, or said "Oh no" to so many times as this one. I had legitimate fear for the characters in this with every chapter. Jacy Morris's ability to build tension is incredible. By the end of it, I was like a live wire needing to know what was going to happen. You all need to read this one. It's sheer cold terror and its exceptionally well done.
September 2, 2025
The prose was good. But the fact that these guys survived, and the possessed men also didn't all die of hypothermia, and the cannibal documentary won an academy award and was about love and family and stuff was like.
Way over the top in a way that I cannot adequately describe.
I think without the epilogue I would have rated this a little more kindly.
Way over the top in a way that I cannot adequately describe.
I think without the epilogue I would have rated this a little more kindly.
July 30, 2025
Disclaimer: I received an e-ARC from the publisher.
An attempt to film a documentary about a previously unknown Indigenous tribe in the Arctic soon turns into a struggle for survival for the film crew as it becomes clear that the invitation to film their traditions wasn’t just a random occurrence, but instead a wish to have a rare ritual documented before climate change makes it impossible. And not everybody will get to walk away.
The story combines harrowing survival horror with great character development, in particular for Erza, the main character. Having run from being true to his own identity as a gay man after being disowned from his parents, he only feels close to his cameraman and secret boyfriend Stu and feels the need to stay closeted in order to chase stardom, something that very clearly affects their relationship, even though they try to support each other. It was heartbreaking to read about them but their struggles and their care for each other were a major highlight of the story for me. Another important character, who I enjoyed reading about, was Maq, a man from the Winoquin tribe, who translates between the film crew and his elders. While we did not get to learn too much about him personally, it was really interesting to see the various roles he embodied (as bait, as translator, as record keeper and as hunter) and offered an intriguing look at the human needs behind the ritual.
One major highlight of this book was certainly the atmosphere it created. The arctic horror was depicted incredibly well and despite the current summer heat, I was immersed in the icy hell the characters find themselves struggling through. The gore-filled depictions of hunts the tribe relies on for survival set the stage well for later, more horrifying scenes as Ezra struggles for survival. And for Ezra, getting to a point where he feels secure and comfortable in his connection with Stu and allows himself to speak it out loud, later allows him to connect with his spiritual ancestors, showing the harm and disconnect that homophobia causes.
If you like arctic survival horror with incredibly atmospheric writing, stories about accepting yourself (while running for your life!), stories that ask questions about what is truly important in life and a protagonist really digging deep into their notions of normality and if this construct actually serves them, I can just advise you to pick this book up and enjoy!
TW: animal death, blood, cannibalism, death, eye trauma, gore, homophobia, murder, sexism, violence
An attempt to film a documentary about a previously unknown Indigenous tribe in the Arctic soon turns into a struggle for survival for the film crew as it becomes clear that the invitation to film their traditions wasn’t just a random occurrence, but instead a wish to have a rare ritual documented before climate change makes it impossible. And not everybody will get to walk away.
The story combines harrowing survival horror with great character development, in particular for Erza, the main character. Having run from being true to his own identity as a gay man after being disowned from his parents, he only feels close to his cameraman and secret boyfriend Stu and feels the need to stay closeted in order to chase stardom, something that very clearly affects their relationship, even though they try to support each other. It was heartbreaking to read about them but their struggles and their care for each other were a major highlight of the story for me. Another important character, who I enjoyed reading about, was Maq, a man from the Winoquin tribe, who translates between the film crew and his elders. While we did not get to learn too much about him personally, it was really interesting to see the various roles he embodied (as bait, as translator, as record keeper and as hunter) and offered an intriguing look at the human needs behind the ritual.
One major highlight of this book was certainly the atmosphere it created. The arctic horror was depicted incredibly well and despite the current summer heat, I was immersed in the icy hell the characters find themselves struggling through. The gore-filled depictions of hunts the tribe relies on for survival set the stage well for later, more horrifying scenes as Ezra struggles for survival. And for Ezra, getting to a point where he feels secure and comfortable in his connection with Stu and allows himself to speak it out loud, later allows him to connect with his spiritual ancestors, showing the harm and disconnect that homophobia causes.
If you like arctic survival horror with incredibly atmospheric writing, stories about accepting yourself (while running for your life!), stories that ask questions about what is truly important in life and a protagonist really digging deep into their notions of normality and if this construct actually serves them, I can just advise you to pick this book up and enjoy!
TW: animal death, blood, cannibalism, death, eye trauma, gore, homophobia, murder, sexism, violence
January 4, 2026
A cool concept, but the execution didn’t fully work for me. The novel was mostly in one POV but occasionally switched to others seemingly because the author couldn’t get the exposition they wanted to include in to the main POV, which felt a little amateurish. And I found the characters one-dimensional, with their backstories feeling like they were added as an afterthought. The epilogue also didn’t fit the rest of the novella. Still, some good scares and some great atmospheric moments.
Read
August 13, 2025I honestly do not know what to think of this and rating tbd while I ponder, I guess
May 3, 2025
Special thanks to Tenebrous Press for the ARC copy they provided.
My.
Gods.
This. Book.
It’s hard to say enough about We Like It Cherry because this book was far from what I expected in that it was far more than I anticipated. Not only was We Like It Cherry psychological, it dug its claws into me and wouldn’t let me stop, even when parts of the story turned my stomach.
Jacy Morris has written a powerful book with vivid imagery and environments that feel as alive and gripping as the characters. From smoky powwow nights to barren, icy hells under the northern lights We Like It Cherry transports you. It’s amazing to think I finished my read through over a month ago because the richness of the plot and the intensity of the pace still linger in my mind.
Transported. For the space of three days, I existed only in this world Morris painted. There was not a single moment I felt I could put my book down. Raw meat, cannibalism, death, horror on the ice… and yet I didn’t want to leave. Because there was a kind of desperate hope woven through Morris’ words.
One that flows through and wraps dangerously around your heart.
We Like It Cherry is terrifying, perhaps most of all, because it is about freeing yourself of the things you use to hold yourself back from happiness. Facing ourselves, looking into the stark mirror of what we hide within, that is far more difficult than facing a tribe of people who want to hunt and eat you to complete a great ritual. The fact most of us, when presented with the choice of the two options, would choose the possibility of being devoured speaks for itself.
We Like It Cherry will hunt me for a long time to come, and if you dare to read it, We Like It Cherry will haunt you as well. Face the mirror and look… if you dare.
My.
Gods.
This. Book.
It’s hard to say enough about We Like It Cherry because this book was far from what I expected in that it was far more than I anticipated. Not only was We Like It Cherry psychological, it dug its claws into me and wouldn’t let me stop, even when parts of the story turned my stomach.
Jacy Morris has written a powerful book with vivid imagery and environments that feel as alive and gripping as the characters. From smoky powwow nights to barren, icy hells under the northern lights We Like It Cherry transports you. It’s amazing to think I finished my read through over a month ago because the richness of the plot and the intensity of the pace still linger in my mind.
Transported. For the space of three days, I existed only in this world Morris painted. There was not a single moment I felt I could put my book down. Raw meat, cannibalism, death, horror on the ice… and yet I didn’t want to leave. Because there was a kind of desperate hope woven through Morris’ words.
One that flows through and wraps dangerously around your heart.
We Like It Cherry is terrifying, perhaps most of all, because it is about freeing yourself of the things you use to hold yourself back from happiness. Facing ourselves, looking into the stark mirror of what we hide within, that is far more difficult than facing a tribe of people who want to hunt and eat you to complete a great ritual. The fact most of us, when presented with the choice of the two options, would choose the possibility of being devoured speaks for itself.
We Like It Cherry will hunt me for a long time to come, and if you dare to read it, We Like It Cherry will haunt you as well. Face the mirror and look… if you dare.
Read
November 6, 2025I wanted to like this, because I always want to enjoy an icy horror, but the fridge logic of the whole plot was just too much for me, it falls apart at the slightest nudge. And on top of that, a self described “ally” deciding to write a gay main character who’s whole personality is how much shame and self-hatred he has about whether to come out of the closet or not...uh. Leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
June 30, 2025
Arctic survival horror is its own terrifying niche, as exemplified by excellent efforts such as The Terror by Dan Simmons or (Ant)arctic stunner All the White Spaces by Ally Wilkes. Its common themes are brutal conditions (nice toes, shame if you lost them) and a thrilling race for survival mixed with often surreal supernatural elements and questions of race, culture, and identity. We Like It Cherry by Jacy Morris, out 31 July, has all these elements, but is at once its own thing and has found its perfect home with horror indie press Tenebrous, the pioneers and provocateurs of the Weird in horror. And thus we have a frankly glorious creation; at once a harrowing, thrilling tale of survival in an utterly unforgiving landscape whole also a mind-altering, surreal fable of what is important in life and how a completely alien society can help us find it.
The plot concerns Ezra Montblanc, who hosts a reality series Indigenous Insider, where he immerses himself in the cultures of various indigenous tribes. Despite his initial ambitions it’s quickly become clear this is a cynical enterprise, and moreover Ezra, in a relationship with his cameraman Stu, fears the consequence to his fanbase of coming out as gay. After a chance encounter with a member of the Winoquin tribe, who live an undisturbed existence in a remote part of the Arctic, he is invited with his documentary team to witness a rare ritual on a remote glacier. But the chance of a lifetime soon turns into a race for survival for him and his team against a supernatural horror bent on revenge.
The first thing to say is that this tale is unspeakably tense. From the moment they arrive on the glacier–following a marvellously nerve-wracking scene simply to access it—things go downhill very fast, and each page is a new descent into breath-stealing horror, both of the utterly gory kind (no spoilers, but consider the title) but also of the sheer brutal sense of the environment. The cold here seeps out of the page and into your bones, and Morris doesn’t shy away from vividly painting its effects, even as he’s busy with the most outlandish forms of gore and slasher-esque action.
But, perhaps most impressively, Morris maintains this perfect balance between the thrills and the utterly impressive and alien sense of a different world and different culture, with values we cannot understand but, in some sense, possibly should. The Winoquin find our concepts of the desire for fame, the shame of love, the individualism of society, even the grief of death, utterly bizarre and have no time for them, and Morris expertly weaves this sense of a culture and philosophy clash among the frantic survival horror and surreal supernatural elements. Yes, there is a sense of revenge and Western guilt here; the glacier won’t exist soon due to climate change, and nor will their nearby lands, but more than that, there is a sense of the ending of something, and of the need to understand that before it goes.
This leads to some of the book’s best scenes, where our protagonist Ezra, realising, possibly too late, the utter falsity of his life pre-glacier, is forced to deconstruct all the social constructs of the West even as he is battling against the supernatural and the cold in one of the year’s most brutal and awe-inspiring settings. If you can spare some time from being utterly engrossed in the increasingly desperate race for survival, then you may well start questioning your own life and values—I certainly did—and be thankful you don’t have to risk your toes, or your existence, to do so.
A near-perfect survival horror, as nail-bitingly tense as it is body-bitingly gory, elevated further by the questions it asks of Western identity and its fake social constructs. Genuinely unmissable.
The plot concerns Ezra Montblanc, who hosts a reality series Indigenous Insider, where he immerses himself in the cultures of various indigenous tribes. Despite his initial ambitions it’s quickly become clear this is a cynical enterprise, and moreover Ezra, in a relationship with his cameraman Stu, fears the consequence to his fanbase of coming out as gay. After a chance encounter with a member of the Winoquin tribe, who live an undisturbed existence in a remote part of the Arctic, he is invited with his documentary team to witness a rare ritual on a remote glacier. But the chance of a lifetime soon turns into a race for survival for him and his team against a supernatural horror bent on revenge.
The first thing to say is that this tale is unspeakably tense. From the moment they arrive on the glacier–following a marvellously nerve-wracking scene simply to access it—things go downhill very fast, and each page is a new descent into breath-stealing horror, both of the utterly gory kind (no spoilers, but consider the title) but also of the sheer brutal sense of the environment. The cold here seeps out of the page and into your bones, and Morris doesn’t shy away from vividly painting its effects, even as he’s busy with the most outlandish forms of gore and slasher-esque action.
But, perhaps most impressively, Morris maintains this perfect balance between the thrills and the utterly impressive and alien sense of a different world and different culture, with values we cannot understand but, in some sense, possibly should. The Winoquin find our concepts of the desire for fame, the shame of love, the individualism of society, even the grief of death, utterly bizarre and have no time for them, and Morris expertly weaves this sense of a culture and philosophy clash among the frantic survival horror and surreal supernatural elements. Yes, there is a sense of revenge and Western guilt here; the glacier won’t exist soon due to climate change, and nor will their nearby lands, but more than that, there is a sense of the ending of something, and of the need to understand that before it goes.
This leads to some of the book’s best scenes, where our protagonist Ezra, realising, possibly too late, the utter falsity of his life pre-glacier, is forced to deconstruct all the social constructs of the West even as he is battling against the supernatural and the cold in one of the year’s most brutal and awe-inspiring settings. If you can spare some time from being utterly engrossed in the increasingly desperate race for survival, then you may well start questioning your own life and values—I certainly did—and be thankful you don’t have to risk your toes, or your existence, to do so.
A near-perfect survival horror, as nail-bitingly tense as it is body-bitingly gory, elevated further by the questions it asks of Western identity and its fake social constructs. Genuinely unmissable.
September 4, 2025
I thoroughly enjoy horror stories set in the deep north. There is something about the icy cold isolation that just heightens the tension for me. Even if I am reading the book in the midst of summer, I always feel a chill. We Like it Cherry by Jacy Morris delivers on the chills, for sure.
Ezra Montbanc hosts a video series about the cultures and celebrations of Indigenous tribes in North America. Buried in an endless string of powwows, Ezra is losing faith in his show and longs for an exciting assignment to punch things up. In a classic case of “be careful what you wish for”, Ezra gets just that. He is invited to observe and record an isolated and mysterious tribe, the Winoquin, as they conduct a once in a lifetime ritual. He believes that this discovery will be what catapults his tiny show from obscurity into the primetime. Travelling with him are Stu, his cameraman and secret lover, Jonesy, a rough-around-the-edges sound man, and Scott, their uptight producer.
Each of the main four have distinct personalities that play well off of each other. Ezra is the main character, but we do experience each person’s POV as they attempt to survive the Winoquin’s ritual. This serves to help the reader connect to each of them and care more about their outcome in the story. My unlikely favourite turned out to be Jonesy, as I felt he had the most complicated personality, but each of the four is engaging in their own way.
The portrayal of the Winoquin is complicated. We do get to know a couple of them to a degree - an unnamed elder, and Maq, the translator/guide - but that’s about it. This serves to cement the cultural differences between Ezra and his group and the Winoquin. While the ritual and practices of the Winoquin are horrific to Ezra (and to the reader - content warnings for cannibalism and ritualistic slaughter), the tribe is not presented as evil despite this practice. They do not delight in cruelty, as they are merely following a very different set of beliefs. Ezra is Indigenous as well, providing a variety of representation. As well, the author, Jacy Morris is Indigenous.
Cannibalism aside, I found the Winoquin to be darkly fascinating. Not only do we get to see aspects of this strange ritual, but we get to see some of their history in the opening. They almost seem to be magical; they are able to swim great lengths under the sea and withstand freezing temperatures in almost no clothing. We do get a glimpse into their past, but I found myself curious about their other rituals, and how the ceremony would have gone if Ezra had refused to bring his team there.
The ending of the story, however, left me with mixed feelings. Some things were tied up far too neatly and those that survived did so a bit too miraculously. Although, the ending I was expecting as I read along would have left me miserable.
I recommend this book for anyone who enjoys icy horror, claustrophobic tales, dark rituals, and has a strong stomach.
Review also posted on my blog: https://www.blog.melodyemcintyre.com/...
Ezra Montbanc hosts a video series about the cultures and celebrations of Indigenous tribes in North America. Buried in an endless string of powwows, Ezra is losing faith in his show and longs for an exciting assignment to punch things up. In a classic case of “be careful what you wish for”, Ezra gets just that. He is invited to observe and record an isolated and mysterious tribe, the Winoquin, as they conduct a once in a lifetime ritual. He believes that this discovery will be what catapults his tiny show from obscurity into the primetime. Travelling with him are Stu, his cameraman and secret lover, Jonesy, a rough-around-the-edges sound man, and Scott, their uptight producer.
Each of the main four have distinct personalities that play well off of each other. Ezra is the main character, but we do experience each person’s POV as they attempt to survive the Winoquin’s ritual. This serves to help the reader connect to each of them and care more about their outcome in the story. My unlikely favourite turned out to be Jonesy, as I felt he had the most complicated personality, but each of the four is engaging in their own way.
The portrayal of the Winoquin is complicated. We do get to know a couple of them to a degree - an unnamed elder, and Maq, the translator/guide - but that’s about it. This serves to cement the cultural differences between Ezra and his group and the Winoquin. While the ritual and practices of the Winoquin are horrific to Ezra (and to the reader - content warnings for cannibalism and ritualistic slaughter), the tribe is not presented as evil despite this practice. They do not delight in cruelty, as they are merely following a very different set of beliefs. Ezra is Indigenous as well, providing a variety of representation. As well, the author, Jacy Morris is Indigenous.
Cannibalism aside, I found the Winoquin to be darkly fascinating. Not only do we get to see aspects of this strange ritual, but we get to see some of their history in the opening. They almost seem to be magical; they are able to swim great lengths under the sea and withstand freezing temperatures in almost no clothing. We do get a glimpse into their past, but I found myself curious about their other rituals, and how the ceremony would have gone if Ezra had refused to bring his team there.
The ending of the story, however, left me with mixed feelings. Some things were tied up far too neatly and those that survived did so a bit too miraculously. Although, the ending I was expecting as I read along would have left me miserable.
I recommend this book for anyone who enjoys icy horror, claustrophobic tales, dark rituals, and has a strong stomach.
Review also posted on my blog: https://www.blog.melodyemcintyre.com/...
September 9, 2025
Well-written and tense, this story sets up a very classic-feeling folk horror scenario where our protagonists find themselves in the middle of a cultish ceremony that the reader cannot help but fear will not end well for any of the outsiders we are meant to root for. Ezra and Stu, a gay couple with conflicting ideas of how open they wish to be about their relationship, are at the heart of the book as they and two other film crew venture into the inhospitable (to say the least) Arctic to record a mysterious ritual by a previously undocumented indigenous tribe.
A bloody prologue and other foreshadowing sets us up to anticipate what this ritual may entail, but the real star of the horror here is the setting. The glacier where the final scenes take place is so forbidding and remote, it may as well be on the moon. Like survival thrillers set at sea, the intense isolation and realization that no help is within reach creates a lot of the tension in the story as the hostile environment becomes just as much, if not more, of a dangerous antagonist as the tribe itself.
I found some of the characters to be more a collection of tropes than feeling like real flesh-and-blood (if you'll excuse the expression in this context) people, and was struck by how interesting it would have been if the entire story had been told from the perspective of one of the tribe members rather than focusing on the thoughts of the outsiders. There is also a scene near the end that seems to come out of nowhere and added little to the plot other than making me scratch my head a bit in bewilderment. Finally, some of the author's decisions about the ending and the epilogue undermined the power of an otherwise chilling tale for me.
However, the things that do work well, work very well. I enjoyed the supernatural and spiritual elements of the tribe's connection to its past, as well as the thoughtful meditations on the conflicts created by modernity and the way it is impacting the planet through climate change and disruption of our bonds with nature and each other. Overall, this is very effective survival and folkloric horror with many stomach-churning scenes, sustained suspense, and unforgettable imagery.
Serious content warnings on this one including homophobia, animal death, cannibalism, gore, body horror
A bloody prologue and other foreshadowing sets us up to anticipate what this ritual may entail, but the real star of the horror here is the setting. The glacier where the final scenes take place is so forbidding and remote, it may as well be on the moon. Like survival thrillers set at sea, the intense isolation and realization that no help is within reach creates a lot of the tension in the story as the hostile environment becomes just as much, if not more, of a dangerous antagonist as the tribe itself.
I found some of the characters to be more a collection of tropes than feeling like real flesh-and-blood (if you'll excuse the expression in this context) people, and was struck by how interesting it would have been if the entire story had been told from the perspective of one of the tribe members rather than focusing on the thoughts of the outsiders. There is also a scene near the end that seems to come out of nowhere and added little to the plot other than making me scratch my head a bit in bewilderment. Finally, some of the author's decisions about the ending and the epilogue undermined the power of an otherwise chilling tale for me.
However, the things that do work well, work very well. I enjoyed the supernatural and spiritual elements of the tribe's connection to its past, as well as the thoughtful meditations on the conflicts created by modernity and the way it is impacting the planet through climate change and disruption of our bonds with nature and each other. Overall, this is very effective survival and folkloric horror with many stomach-churning scenes, sustained suspense, and unforgettable imagery.
Serious content warnings on this one including homophobia, animal death, cannibalism, gore, body horror
October 19, 2025
BWAF Score: 8/10
Jacy Morris, a registered member of the Confederated Tribes of Siletz, has been carving out a niche in the horror and dark fiction scene with a punk rock snarl and a horror movie junkie’s heart. Hailing from Portland, Oregon, where he’s been teaching English and social studies since 2005, Morris infuses his work with a raw, outsider’s perspective, often blending visceral horror with cultural commentary. His prior works, like This Rotten World and The Taxidermied Man, lean heavily into gritty, apocalyptic, and grotesque territory. We Like It Cherry marks a bold evolution, diving into Arctic horror with a Native American lens, inspired by a nightmare that Morris credits to his rebellious subconscious. This is his most ambitious work yet, tackling themes of identity, colonialism, and survival with a bloody, frostbitten fist.
Ezra Montbanc, a disillusioned Native American journalist, hosts Indigenous Insider, a low-budget show documenting Indigenous celebrations across North America. Tired of the homogenized powwows and fry bread monotony, Ezra’s cynicism is at an all-time high when he’s invited by Maq, a mysterious Winoquin tribesman, to film a rare festival on Baffin Island’s icy fringes. With his lover and cameraman Stu, producer Scott, and crude soundman Jonesy, Ezra ventures to the remote Winoquin village, a place untouched by modernity, where the sun never sets and the air bites like a pissed-off wolverine. What begins as a routine documentary shoot spirals into a chilling exploration of ancient rituals, survival, and the cost of authenticity. The Winoquin’s traditions, shrouded in secrecy and tied to the land’s brutal history, force Ezra to confront his own identity and the lies he’s told himself to survive in a world that demands conformity.
We Like It Cherry is a devastating meditation on identity, cultural erasure, and the primal urge to survive. Morris uses the Winoquin, a fictional tribe distinct from the Inuit, to explore the tension between authenticity and assimilation. Ezra’s internal conflict, his struggle to reconcile his Native heritage with the performative “Indianness” demanded by his job, mirrors the broader historical trauma of Indigenous peoples stripped of their traditions by colonial forces. The Winoquin’s ritualistic cannibalism, introduced early in a harrowing historical vignette, isn’t just shock value; it’s a symbol of consuming the “other” to preserve one’s own strength, a twisted reflection of how marginalized cultures are forced to devour or adapt to survive. The glacier, dubbed the “land of the dead,” is a potent metaphor for the frozen, unyielding weight of history, where past traumas and spirits linger, refusing to be buried.
The novel also dives into queer identity through Ezra’s relationship with Stu, a love he hides for fear of losing his meager fame. The Winoquin’s fluid, communal approach to love, where gender and sexuality are irrelevant as long as the tribe thrives, contrasts sharply with Ezra’s internalized shame, shaped by a homophobic father and a judgmental society. The spirits’ questioning of Ezra’s need for fame (“What good is being known if the person everyone knows isn’t real?”) cuts like a harpoon, exposing the futility of chasing validation in a world that doesn’t give a shit about your truth.
Symbolism is heavy but not heavy-handed. The “cherry” of the title refers to the red, raw flesh of the consumed, a nod to both vitality and violence. There are metaphors for inevitable destruction of traditions under cultural erosion that also offers liberation, freeing Ezra from his self-imposed cocoon of lies. The cave’s mysterious pool, with its life-giving, viscous liquid, evokes a womb-like rebirth, suggesting that survival demands embracing one’s raw, unfiltered self.
Morris’s prose is a jagged ice pick. It’s sharp, unapologetic, and occasionally messy. He writes with the urgency of a man running from a polar bear, blending visceral descriptions (“blood dripping thick like syrup”) with introspective monologues that channel Anthony Bourdain’s world-weary philosophizing. The dialogue crackles with irreverent humor, especially in Ezra’s banter with Stu and Jonesy’s crude outbursts, grounding the horror in human relatability. The historical opening, with its stark, almost mythic tone, sets a chilling stage.
Morris’s strength lies in his ability to paint the Arctic’s desolation with vivid, sensory detail (the “white ice blinding” the hunted, the “howl of the ocean wind” ruining soundtracks). His use of Ezra’s “mental couch” as a narrative device, where spirits probe his psyche, is a clever way to externalize internal conflict, though it occasionally feels like a crutch when the action slows. The pacing stumbles in the middle, with repetitive descriptions of the crew’s discomfort, but it roars back to life in the final act chock full of heart-pounding intensity.
This book is a fucking revelation for anyone craving horror that’s more than cheap jump scares. Morris’s exploration of Indigenous identity through a horror lens is bold and unflinching, offering a perspective rarely seen in the genre. The Winoquin’s rituals are horrifying yet culturally coherent, avoiding the “savage native” trope by grounding their actions in survival and spirituality. Ezra and Stu’s relationship is a standout, their love a beacon in the icy hellscape, made more poignant by Ezra’s self-loathing. The Arctic setting is incredibly rendered with relentless cold and endless daylight amplifying the sense of isolation and dread. The epilogue is a gut-wrenching reflection on survival’s cost, delivering a rare emotional depth for horror.
The novel has its bumps. The middle sags under repetitive scenes of the crew bitching about the cold, which feels like padding. Jonesy’s crude humor, while initially amusing, wears thin and borders on caricature. The Winoquin’s motivations, while symbolically rich, can feel opaque, leaving some plot threads (like the spirits’ sudden benevolence) unresolved. Morris’s prose, while evocative, occasionally overreaches with philosophical tangents that disrupt the narrative flow. The “mental couch” device, though innovative, risks feeling gimmicky when overused. Finally, the novel’s reliance on Ezra’s perspective limits insight into the Winoquin, making them more mythic than human at times.
We Like It Cherry is an incredible Arctic horror, blending cultural critique with visceral terror. It’s a damn bold swing that lands more often than it misses. In a genre bloated with predictable slashers and haunted house drivel, Morris delivers a story that’s as raw and red as the flesh it describes, earning its place among the best of contemporary horror.
TL;DR: A chilling, introspective plunge into Arctic horror that skewers cultural erasure and personal denial with a bloody harpoon. Not perfect, but damn close to unforgettable.
Recommended for: Horror fans who crave weird, culturally rich narratives and don’t mind their sushi sentient.
Not recommended for: People who think fry bread is the pinnacle of cuisine or who faint at the sight of a seal’s sad eyes.
Jacy Morris, a registered member of the Confederated Tribes of Siletz, has been carving out a niche in the horror and dark fiction scene with a punk rock snarl and a horror movie junkie’s heart. Hailing from Portland, Oregon, where he’s been teaching English and social studies since 2005, Morris infuses his work with a raw, outsider’s perspective, often blending visceral horror with cultural commentary. His prior works, like This Rotten World and The Taxidermied Man, lean heavily into gritty, apocalyptic, and grotesque territory. We Like It Cherry marks a bold evolution, diving into Arctic horror with a Native American lens, inspired by a nightmare that Morris credits to his rebellious subconscious. This is his most ambitious work yet, tackling themes of identity, colonialism, and survival with a bloody, frostbitten fist.
Ezra Montbanc, a disillusioned Native American journalist, hosts Indigenous Insider, a low-budget show documenting Indigenous celebrations across North America. Tired of the homogenized powwows and fry bread monotony, Ezra’s cynicism is at an all-time high when he’s invited by Maq, a mysterious Winoquin tribesman, to film a rare festival on Baffin Island’s icy fringes. With his lover and cameraman Stu, producer Scott, and crude soundman Jonesy, Ezra ventures to the remote Winoquin village, a place untouched by modernity, where the sun never sets and the air bites like a pissed-off wolverine. What begins as a routine documentary shoot spirals into a chilling exploration of ancient rituals, survival, and the cost of authenticity. The Winoquin’s traditions, shrouded in secrecy and tied to the land’s brutal history, force Ezra to confront his own identity and the lies he’s told himself to survive in a world that demands conformity.
We Like It Cherry is a devastating meditation on identity, cultural erasure, and the primal urge to survive. Morris uses the Winoquin, a fictional tribe distinct from the Inuit, to explore the tension between authenticity and assimilation. Ezra’s internal conflict, his struggle to reconcile his Native heritage with the performative “Indianness” demanded by his job, mirrors the broader historical trauma of Indigenous peoples stripped of their traditions by colonial forces. The Winoquin’s ritualistic cannibalism, introduced early in a harrowing historical vignette, isn’t just shock value; it’s a symbol of consuming the “other” to preserve one’s own strength, a twisted reflection of how marginalized cultures are forced to devour or adapt to survive. The glacier, dubbed the “land of the dead,” is a potent metaphor for the frozen, unyielding weight of history, where past traumas and spirits linger, refusing to be buried.
The novel also dives into queer identity through Ezra’s relationship with Stu, a love he hides for fear of losing his meager fame. The Winoquin’s fluid, communal approach to love, where gender and sexuality are irrelevant as long as the tribe thrives, contrasts sharply with Ezra’s internalized shame, shaped by a homophobic father and a judgmental society. The spirits’ questioning of Ezra’s need for fame (“What good is being known if the person everyone knows isn’t real?”) cuts like a harpoon, exposing the futility of chasing validation in a world that doesn’t give a shit about your truth.
Symbolism is heavy but not heavy-handed. The “cherry” of the title refers to the red, raw flesh of the consumed, a nod to both vitality and violence. There are metaphors for inevitable destruction of traditions under cultural erosion that also offers liberation, freeing Ezra from his self-imposed cocoon of lies. The cave’s mysterious pool, with its life-giving, viscous liquid, evokes a womb-like rebirth, suggesting that survival demands embracing one’s raw, unfiltered self.
Morris’s prose is a jagged ice pick. It’s sharp, unapologetic, and occasionally messy. He writes with the urgency of a man running from a polar bear, blending visceral descriptions (“blood dripping thick like syrup”) with introspective monologues that channel Anthony Bourdain’s world-weary philosophizing. The dialogue crackles with irreverent humor, especially in Ezra’s banter with Stu and Jonesy’s crude outbursts, grounding the horror in human relatability. The historical opening, with its stark, almost mythic tone, sets a chilling stage.
Morris’s strength lies in his ability to paint the Arctic’s desolation with vivid, sensory detail (the “white ice blinding” the hunted, the “howl of the ocean wind” ruining soundtracks). His use of Ezra’s “mental couch” as a narrative device, where spirits probe his psyche, is a clever way to externalize internal conflict, though it occasionally feels like a crutch when the action slows. The pacing stumbles in the middle, with repetitive descriptions of the crew’s discomfort, but it roars back to life in the final act chock full of heart-pounding intensity.
This book is a fucking revelation for anyone craving horror that’s more than cheap jump scares. Morris’s exploration of Indigenous identity through a horror lens is bold and unflinching, offering a perspective rarely seen in the genre. The Winoquin’s rituals are horrifying yet culturally coherent, avoiding the “savage native” trope by grounding their actions in survival and spirituality. Ezra and Stu’s relationship is a standout, their love a beacon in the icy hellscape, made more poignant by Ezra’s self-loathing. The Arctic setting is incredibly rendered with relentless cold and endless daylight amplifying the sense of isolation and dread. The epilogue is a gut-wrenching reflection on survival’s cost, delivering a rare emotional depth for horror.
The novel has its bumps. The middle sags under repetitive scenes of the crew bitching about the cold, which feels like padding. Jonesy’s crude humor, while initially amusing, wears thin and borders on caricature. The Winoquin’s motivations, while symbolically rich, can feel opaque, leaving some plot threads (like the spirits’ sudden benevolence) unresolved. Morris’s prose, while evocative, occasionally overreaches with philosophical tangents that disrupt the narrative flow. The “mental couch” device, though innovative, risks feeling gimmicky when overused. Finally, the novel’s reliance on Ezra’s perspective limits insight into the Winoquin, making them more mythic than human at times.
We Like It Cherry is an incredible Arctic horror, blending cultural critique with visceral terror. It’s a damn bold swing that lands more often than it misses. In a genre bloated with predictable slashers and haunted house drivel, Morris delivers a story that’s as raw and red as the flesh it describes, earning its place among the best of contemporary horror.
TL;DR: A chilling, introspective plunge into Arctic horror that skewers cultural erasure and personal denial with a bloody harpoon. Not perfect, but damn close to unforgettable.
Recommended for: Horror fans who crave weird, culturally rich narratives and don’t mind their sushi sentient.
Not recommended for: People who think fry bread is the pinnacle of cuisine or who faint at the sight of a seal’s sad eyes.
July 11, 2025
🔥 BRO vs. WE LIKE IT CHERRY 🔥
🥊 The Book: Ezra Montbanc thought his days of exploitative reality TV were behind him. But when a mysterious Arctic tribe—the Winoquin—extends a too-good-to-be-true invitation, Ezra and his crew are thrown into a frigid hellscape of mythic revenge, body horror, and blood-soaked rites.
💪 The Bro: Over the top violence doesn’t usually play well with emotional depth. But when it does? That’s when I’m all in—covered in gore and teeth chattering. Oh, and there’s a gay romance at the center that’ll tear your heart out, patch it with seal fat, and send it back into the blizzard.
⸻
🥊 ROUND 1: First Impressions
• Arctic horror? Sign me up.
• Ezra is jaded and deeply human right out the gate. Stu—the cinematographer—feels like his opposite and anchor.
• The vibe? Like Cannibal Holocaust and The Thing had a baby and raised it on queer trauma and frozen dread.
• The prose paints the tundra as both mythic and sentient—icy winds whispering curses and ancient teeth waiting beneath the snow.
⸻
🥊 ROUND 2: In the Thick of It
• The horror is intense. Ritualistic mutilation and cannibalism is a vibe, and it brings enough viscera to coat a glacier.
• Ezra and Stu are the emotional engine, struggling to hold onto each other while everything around them degrades into madness.
• Themes of cultural exploitation are smartly woven into the narrative. This isn’t just survival horror—it’s reckoning horror.
⸻
🥊 ROUND 3: The Home Stretch
• There’s a finality to the journey that feels earned—bloody, tragic, but weirdly redemptive.
• Also? The end? Whew. Still rattling around my skull.
⸻
🔥 FINAL BELL: The ARC Bro Scorecard 🔥
🥊 Total Knockout – We Like It Cherry is ruthless, heartfelt, and unrelentingly cold-blooded. It’s rare to find a horror story this gruesome that also has so much soul. Fans of Nathan Ballingrud, queer horror, and brutal survival tales—come get wrecked.
🥊 The Book: Ezra Montbanc thought his days of exploitative reality TV were behind him. But when a mysterious Arctic tribe—the Winoquin—extends a too-good-to-be-true invitation, Ezra and his crew are thrown into a frigid hellscape of mythic revenge, body horror, and blood-soaked rites.
💪 The Bro: Over the top violence doesn’t usually play well with emotional depth. But when it does? That’s when I’m all in—covered in gore and teeth chattering. Oh, and there’s a gay romance at the center that’ll tear your heart out, patch it with seal fat, and send it back into the blizzard.
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🥊 ROUND 1: First Impressions
• Arctic horror? Sign me up.
• Ezra is jaded and deeply human right out the gate. Stu—the cinematographer—feels like his opposite and anchor.
• The vibe? Like Cannibal Holocaust and The Thing had a baby and raised it on queer trauma and frozen dread.
• The prose paints the tundra as both mythic and sentient—icy winds whispering curses and ancient teeth waiting beneath the snow.
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🥊 ROUND 2: In the Thick of It
• The horror is intense. Ritualistic mutilation and cannibalism is a vibe, and it brings enough viscera to coat a glacier.
• Ezra and Stu are the emotional engine, struggling to hold onto each other while everything around them degrades into madness.
• Themes of cultural exploitation are smartly woven into the narrative. This isn’t just survival horror—it’s reckoning horror.
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🥊 ROUND 3: The Home Stretch
• There’s a finality to the journey that feels earned—bloody, tragic, but weirdly redemptive.
• Also? The end? Whew. Still rattling around my skull.
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🔥 FINAL BELL: The ARC Bro Scorecard 🔥
🥊 Total Knockout – We Like It Cherry is ruthless, heartfelt, and unrelentingly cold-blooded. It’s rare to find a horror story this gruesome that also has so much soul. Fans of Nathan Ballingrud, queer horror, and brutal survival tales—come get wrecked.
June 14, 2025
This is definitely a gruesome horror book, so check the trigger warnings if you're worried (the publisher kindly put them at the back of the book in my ebook copy). Speaking of, thanks to Tenebrous Press for sending an advanced copy for review!
From the opening scene, I was worried this was going to be a gruesome slasher, which it sort of was, but there's more to it than that. Basically, a crew that films documentaries about Indigenous peoples gets lured out to the Arctic to observe the Winoquin tribe's ritual. This ritual is centered around , and only after the entire crew starts camping on a glacier do they realize what's going on.
The parts interwoven with the really gruesome bits are what made this special, though. Our main character, Ezra, is a typical queer outcast who doesn't really have a home but has fallen in love with his cinematographer Stu. Together, they participate in unspeakable things, support each other even when survival seems impossible, and ultimately drag each other back from the brink of death. Through this experience, Ezra realizes the importance of his connection with Stu, and the way that he has formed his own sort of tribe.
Part of Ezra's revelation comes in the supernatural side of this story, where the Winoquin ancestors recognize the tenacity of Ezra's spirit and accept him as one of their own not by blood, but by the quality of his heart. They also help him confront his own vanities and focus in on the truly important things, bringing into question a lot of the ephemeral things we chase on a regular basis in Western society.
Overall, this book was thrilling and kept me turning the pages (I read most of it in a day), but also explored some interesting ideas about the way we treat other cultures and the importance of genuine human connection.
From the opening scene, I was worried this was going to be a gruesome slasher, which it sort of was, but there's more to it than that. Basically, a crew that films documentaries about Indigenous peoples gets lured out to the Arctic to observe the Winoquin tribe's ritual. This ritual is centered around , and only after the entire crew starts camping on a glacier do they realize what's going on.
The parts interwoven with the really gruesome bits are what made this special, though. Our main character, Ezra, is a typical queer outcast who doesn't really have a home but has fallen in love with his cinematographer Stu. Together, they participate in unspeakable things, support each other even when survival seems impossible, and ultimately drag each other back from the brink of death. Through this experience, Ezra realizes the importance of his connection with Stu, and the way that he has formed his own sort of tribe.
Part of Ezra's revelation comes in the supernatural side of this story, where the Winoquin ancestors recognize the tenacity of Ezra's spirit and accept him as one of their own not by blood, but by the quality of his heart. They also help him confront his own vanities and focus in on the truly important things, bringing into question a lot of the ephemeral things we chase on a regular basis in Western society.
Overall, this book was thrilling and kept me turning the pages (I read most of it in a day), but also explored some interesting ideas about the way we treat other cultures and the importance of genuine human connection.
June 19, 2025
When I pick up a horror novel, I’m hoping to be taken somewhere new, be it a literal setting or a less literal experience or situation. WE LIKE IT CHERRY accomplishes both pretty darn well.
The book tells the story of Ezra, the host of a reality show that documents Native American ceremonies, and his crew (including his lover and cameraman Stu) as they visit a dying tribe in the frozen arctic. The allure of capturing this little-known tribe’s most important traditions and sharing it with the world excites Ezra, who wants to tell a real story and do something bigger than his exploitative show allows. But when the indigenous ceremony involves the spirits of the dead consuming members of Ezra’s crew in the most inhospitable place on earth, all he wants is to return home with Stu alive.
WE KIKE IT CHERRY starts with a fascinating premise, well-developed characters, and a (literally and figuratively) cool setting, all of which stoked curiosity in me. But when people start dying in brutal ways and blood begins to stain the snow, this story becomes a pretty wild ride. The violence is intense, but it builds up to lessons that reaches beyond mere brutality—about being who you are and finding your tribe wherever they are at. Ezra can only find this truth when he opens himself up to the ancestors of the tribe that’s trying to, um, eat him.
Morris’s book took me to the literal edge of the planet, then to the edge of my imagination—which is exactly what I want in a horror novel.
The book tells the story of Ezra, the host of a reality show that documents Native American ceremonies, and his crew (including his lover and cameraman Stu) as they visit a dying tribe in the frozen arctic. The allure of capturing this little-known tribe’s most important traditions and sharing it with the world excites Ezra, who wants to tell a real story and do something bigger than his exploitative show allows. But when the indigenous ceremony involves the spirits of the dead consuming members of Ezra’s crew in the most inhospitable place on earth, all he wants is to return home with Stu alive.
WE KIKE IT CHERRY starts with a fascinating premise, well-developed characters, and a (literally and figuratively) cool setting, all of which stoked curiosity in me. But when people start dying in brutal ways and blood begins to stain the snow, this story becomes a pretty wild ride. The violence is intense, but it builds up to lessons that reaches beyond mere brutality—about being who you are and finding your tribe wherever they are at. Ezra can only find this truth when he opens himself up to the ancestors of the tribe that’s trying to, um, eat him.
Morris’s book took me to the literal edge of the planet, then to the edge of my imagination—which is exactly what I want in a horror novel.
February 25, 2025
This is a novel of survival horror, supernatural entities, and cannibalism set in the frozen glaciers of the artic.
A crew of a reality show which highlights various indigenous cultures goes to the remotest part of the artic to film a small tribe of people who don't have contact or interest in the outside world. All seems to be going well at first as they're welcomed with open arms. But that quickly changes when they go with the tribe to a sacred glacier for a once in a lifetime special ritual. This ritual ensures the tribes survival but human sacrifices must be made.
Stranded and on the menu, the team must fight to survive not only this ritual but the elements themselves.
This book has all those great creepy vibes you want in a story like this. Our two main characters are a gay couple and their love for one another could be key to their survival. The tribe itself aren't bloodthirsty savages but possessed by the spirits of their elder ancestors to be fed human flesh and blood in order to strengthen the tribe as a whole.
With themes of unity, identity, and doing what's good for your people as opposed to just yourself, this novel is atmospheric and horrifying. I highly recommend it.
I received an ARC of this book from the publisher. This review is voluntary and is my own personal opinion.
A crew of a reality show which highlights various indigenous cultures goes to the remotest part of the artic to film a small tribe of people who don't have contact or interest in the outside world. All seems to be going well at first as they're welcomed with open arms. But that quickly changes when they go with the tribe to a sacred glacier for a once in a lifetime special ritual. This ritual ensures the tribes survival but human sacrifices must be made.
Stranded and on the menu, the team must fight to survive not only this ritual but the elements themselves.
This book has all those great creepy vibes you want in a story like this. Our two main characters are a gay couple and their love for one another could be key to their survival. The tribe itself aren't bloodthirsty savages but possessed by the spirits of their elder ancestors to be fed human flesh and blood in order to strengthen the tribe as a whole.
With themes of unity, identity, and doing what's good for your people as opposed to just yourself, this novel is atmospheric and horrifying. I highly recommend it.
I received an ARC of this book from the publisher. This review is voluntary and is my own personal opinion.
August 12, 2025
4.5 rounded to 5🌟
Thank you so much to Tenebrous Press for the gifted copy!
I wasn’t afraid of glaciers before, but I’ve decided to avoid them at all costs now. 😅
This story is gritty, gory, and heart-wrenching. Marketed as an arctic, supernatural, survival horror it absolutely delivers, but it’s also a story of self-discovery and love.
I think this story hit me so hard because a lot of the horror is rooted in real life. Being stuck on a glacier in the middle of the ocean with nowhere to go. Subzero temperatures, crumbling terrain, and no communication with the outside world….my absolute nightmare. Then you throw in the supernatural component and it kicks the story into high gear. There were so many things to be worried about for our main characters, my heart was pounding through half the book.
I didn’t expect to get teary-eyed, but there I was, crying over the love the main characters hold for each other and the relatability of Ezra’s story: wanting so much more out of life, even if it puts you in harms way.
The way Morris weaves all of this into such a brutal, unrelenting story is so well done. 👏🏻
My one complaint is the ending fell just a little flat for me. I can see why it was written that way, but I just wanted more!!
I’d suggest this to anyone looking for a gripping, edge-of-your-seat story that will keep you on your toes.
Thank you so much to Tenebrous Press for the gifted copy!
I wasn’t afraid of glaciers before, but I’ve decided to avoid them at all costs now. 😅
This story is gritty, gory, and heart-wrenching. Marketed as an arctic, supernatural, survival horror it absolutely delivers, but it’s also a story of self-discovery and love.
I think this story hit me so hard because a lot of the horror is rooted in real life. Being stuck on a glacier in the middle of the ocean with nowhere to go. Subzero temperatures, crumbling terrain, and no communication with the outside world….my absolute nightmare. Then you throw in the supernatural component and it kicks the story into high gear. There were so many things to be worried about for our main characters, my heart was pounding through half the book.
I didn’t expect to get teary-eyed, but there I was, crying over the love the main characters hold for each other and the relatability of Ezra’s story: wanting so much more out of life, even if it puts you in harms way.
The way Morris weaves all of this into such a brutal, unrelenting story is so well done. 👏🏻
My one complaint is the ending fell just a little flat for me. I can see why it was written that way, but I just wanted more!!
I’d suggest this to anyone looking for a gripping, edge-of-your-seat story that will keep you on your toes.
July 1, 2025
In We Like It Cherry, we follow Ezra, a documentarian, his partner & cameraman, Stu along with a couple of other characters. Ezra hosts an Indigenous themed show and is invited to film a tribe named the Winoquin. Seeing the opportunity to revitalize his material, Ezra accepts. Once the crew arrive, things start to, um, happen, and quickly escalate at a breakneck pace into the things nightmares are made of. They are not there to film the ritual … they ARE the ritual. What ritual? Why are they needed? All your questions will be answered throughout the course of the story. We Like It Cherry, at its most basic, is a horror story of survival. It is also much more than that. It has deep themes of the supernatural, cultural conflict, sense of self and the shame that can accompany these complicated emotions. We also examine the struggle Ezra has with being open about he and Stu's romantic relationship. Set amid an Arctic background, you can almost see your breath as you read this perilous and horrifying story. It has its fair share of graphic gore, Cannibal Holocaust-style, so as always, be responsible with your own consumption. Thank you so much to Tenebrous Press for sending me an ARC. You can pick this book up when it publishes August 05, 2025 wherever you buy your books!
May 30, 2025
What a truly heart wrenching read. I was not expecting it. I love when a book gives me all the feels, yet still horrifies me.
You get a really good sense of just how dejected and disconnected Ezra feels. To himself and community as a whole. He’s adrift, with no larger purpose than to hide his true self to pursue notoriety. He’s not only surviving the horrors that unravel around him when he goes to document this momentous ceremony of the Winoquin people. He’s been surviving his fathers rejection of him since he discovers he’s gay, surviving the generational trauma the indigenous suffer after being ripped from their lands and traditions, surviving the pressures of staying closeted in order to advance his career. This book is larger than a sudden need to survive a single incident. Its trauma so large that it may never be surpassed. Not without community, and connection…a tribe.
Of course, there are the horrors that befall him and his crew when they come to the remote tribe of the Winoquin people. It’s brutal, bloody, hypnotic. You can read it just for that. But you will come away with so much more….or less.
You get a really good sense of just how dejected and disconnected Ezra feels. To himself and community as a whole. He’s adrift, with no larger purpose than to hide his true self to pursue notoriety. He’s not only surviving the horrors that unravel around him when he goes to document this momentous ceremony of the Winoquin people. He’s been surviving his fathers rejection of him since he discovers he’s gay, surviving the generational trauma the indigenous suffer after being ripped from their lands and traditions, surviving the pressures of staying closeted in order to advance his career. This book is larger than a sudden need to survive a single incident. Its trauma so large that it may never be surpassed. Not without community, and connection…a tribe.
Of course, there are the horrors that befall him and his crew when they come to the remote tribe of the Winoquin people. It’s brutal, bloody, hypnotic. You can read it just for that. But you will come away with so much more….or less.
May 27, 2025
Devastating. We Like It Cherry is a vicious entry in the indie horror genre, and well worth a read. Starting with a familiar, Cannibal Holocaustian plotline of documentarians in over their head at the edge of the world, Jacy Morris isn't content to just shock and horrify (but don't worry--there's plenty of that, too). At its heart, Cherry is about being a part of a tribe and fighting back against encroaching extinction. It's about having the courage to stand by your convictions and your choices. It's about feasting on human flesh.
Yes, Morris puts his readers through the proverbial wringer, forcing them to bear witness to ritualistic savagery that would make Jack Ketchum proud. What sets his work apart from garden variety exploitation is the attempt to truly know what makes these antagonists tick. There's an understanding of our cannibalistic opponents motivation that helps us follow their logic, which is honestly more shocking and painful than the mindless mobs of sadistic barbarians in similar work.
Long story short, Jacy Morris has created something here that can make you thoughtful and nauseous in equal measure: no small feat.
Many thanks to Tenebrous Press, who supplied me with an advanced reader copy of We Like It Cherry for reviewing purposes. I promise that the only thing that swayed my opinion was the book itself.
Yes, Morris puts his readers through the proverbial wringer, forcing them to bear witness to ritualistic savagery that would make Jack Ketchum proud. What sets his work apart from garden variety exploitation is the attempt to truly know what makes these antagonists tick. There's an understanding of our cannibalistic opponents motivation that helps us follow their logic, which is honestly more shocking and painful than the mindless mobs of sadistic barbarians in similar work.
Long story short, Jacy Morris has created something here that can make you thoughtful and nauseous in equal measure: no small feat.
Many thanks to Tenebrous Press, who supplied me with an advanced reader copy of We Like It Cherry for reviewing purposes. I promise that the only thing that swayed my opinion was the book itself.
August 4, 2025
I devoured this book in two days like it was the last can of beans on a cursed glacier. ❄️🥫 From the first page, it had me by the throat—and not in a romantic way. Think The Ruins meets a freezing existential crisis, with a dash of cultural reckoning and ancient vengeance. You know… cozy. ☠️🧊
Ezra? Broken. Stu? Also broken. The Arctic? Definitely broken—and trying to break you too. This book doesn’t just serve body horror; it laces it with purpose. It forces you to ask yourself tough questions and reflect like a possessed Dr. Phil.
The last quarter turned my brain into a frozen raisin. It’s philosophical, deeply human, and brutally honest about the cost of exploitation, identity, and survival.
Also? It quotes Monty Python. So yes—it’s officially in my top tier of horror reads. Five stars and one (possibly cursed) documentary reel. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🎥
Ezra? Broken. Stu? Also broken. The Arctic? Definitely broken—and trying to break you too. This book doesn’t just serve body horror; it laces it with purpose. It forces you to ask yourself tough questions and reflect like a possessed Dr. Phil.
The last quarter turned my brain into a frozen raisin. It’s philosophical, deeply human, and brutally honest about the cost of exploitation, identity, and survival.
Also? It quotes Monty Python. So yes—it’s officially in my top tier of horror reads. Five stars and one (possibly cursed) documentary reel. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🎥
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