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We Sent Them Down Singing
Not yet published
Expected 21 Jul 26In the small coal camp of Jubilee, West Virginia, Phinnie “Skinny” Caldwell has been plagued with nightmares of the last time she ever saw her mama alive and the man responsible for stealing her Zell Dorsey.
When Zell Dorsey returns thirteen years later, alone, Skinny is determined to find out what really happened. As she uncovers disturbing truths about her mama’s fate and Zell’s sinister plan, she turns to Happy Walker, her school bus driver and the closest thing she has to a father. However, nothing can prepare them for what they Behind Zell Dorsey’s charming veneer, is a creature both older and far more evil than any devil, and he’s hellbent on turning everyone Skinny loves into oil-slicked monsters.
This book is a testament to the resilience of grieving mothers and the tenacity of the beautiful people of Appalachia, a place where the accents sing rather than talk and the tea is always sweet.
When Zell Dorsey returns thirteen years later, alone, Skinny is determined to find out what really happened. As she uncovers disturbing truths about her mama’s fate and Zell’s sinister plan, she turns to Happy Walker, her school bus driver and the closest thing she has to a father. However, nothing can prepare them for what they Behind Zell Dorsey’s charming veneer, is a creature both older and far more evil than any devil, and he’s hellbent on turning everyone Skinny loves into oil-slicked monsters.
This book is a testament to the resilience of grieving mothers and the tenacity of the beautiful people of Appalachia, a place where the accents sing rather than talk and the tea is always sweet.
368 pages, Hardcover
Expected publication July 21, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
Thank you NetGalley and Page Street Horror for the ARC in exchange for an honest review!
“We Sent Them Down Singing” by Libby Edwardson is one of those horror books that doesn’t just try to scare you; it tries to haunt you emotionally, and honestly? It absolutely succeeds. This book felt like old-school Southern/Appalachian horror in the best possible way: slow, atmospheric, deeply unsettling, and packed with grief, folklore, generational trauma, and the kind of creeping dread that settles into your bones.
The setting of Jubilee, West Virginia completely stole the show for me. The entire town feels weighed down by coal dust, poverty, old secrets, and inherited pain. Libby Edwardson writes Appalachia with so much heart and respect that the setting feels alive the entire time. The mountains, the mines, the folklore, the accents, the community; everything feels rich and authentic without ever romanticizing the uglier parts of it.
At the center of the story is Phinnie “Skinny” Caldwell, who has spent years haunted by the disappearance of her mother and the terrifying man tied to it: Zell Dorsey. When Zell suddenly returns to town thirteen years later, Skinny becomes determined to uncover the truth about what happened all those years ago. And from there, the story spirals into something deeply emotional, horrifying, and honestly kind of impossible to fully explain without spoiling it.
One of my favorite parts of this book was the found family dynamic, especially Skinny’s relationship with Happy Walker, her school bus driver and basically her father figure. In a story filled with darkness and monstrousness, Happy brings so much warmth and humanity to the book. The relationships here feel incredibly raw and genuine, and that emotional core is what makes the horror hit even harder.
And speaking of the horror, this book is definitely creepy. Not necessarily nonstop jump-scare horror, but the kind that slowly crawls under your skin and makes everything feel wrong. There’s this constant sense of unease hanging over every page, like the mountains themselves know something terrible is coming. The body horror especially gets very disturbing at times; there are scenes in this book that are genuinely hard to shake afterward.
What I loved most is how the story blurs the line between human evil and supernatural evil. Zell Dorsey is honestly horrifying because even before the truly monstrous elements show up, he already feels terrifyingly real. The book keeps asking what makes someone a monster, and whether grief, cruelty, and violence can infect entire communities over generations.
At the same time, this book is shockingly emotional. Beneath all the horror is this heartbreaking story about mothers, grief, loss, love, survival, and the ways communities carry pain through generations. There were moments that genuinely made me emotional, which I wasn’t fully expecting going into a horror novel.
That said, I can definitely see this being a “works for you or doesn’t” type of read. The story sometimes feels dense with ideas, characters, folklore, and emotional themes all layered together at once. It’s not a super fast-paced action-heavy horror novel. But personally, I think the atmosphere and emotional depth are what make it memorable.
Overall, “We Sent Them Down Singing” is a haunting Appalachian horror debut filled with eerie folklore, disturbing body horror, found family, grief, and deeply human emotion. It’s unsettling, heartbreaking, strangely beautiful, and the kind of book that lingers long after you finish it. Perfect for those who love atmospheric horror where the emotional wounds cut just as deep as the monsters do.
“We Sent Them Down Singing” by Libby Edwardson is one of those horror books that doesn’t just try to scare you; it tries to haunt you emotionally, and honestly? It absolutely succeeds. This book felt like old-school Southern/Appalachian horror in the best possible way: slow, atmospheric, deeply unsettling, and packed with grief, folklore, generational trauma, and the kind of creeping dread that settles into your bones.
The setting of Jubilee, West Virginia completely stole the show for me. The entire town feels weighed down by coal dust, poverty, old secrets, and inherited pain. Libby Edwardson writes Appalachia with so much heart and respect that the setting feels alive the entire time. The mountains, the mines, the folklore, the accents, the community; everything feels rich and authentic without ever romanticizing the uglier parts of it.
At the center of the story is Phinnie “Skinny” Caldwell, who has spent years haunted by the disappearance of her mother and the terrifying man tied to it: Zell Dorsey. When Zell suddenly returns to town thirteen years later, Skinny becomes determined to uncover the truth about what happened all those years ago. And from there, the story spirals into something deeply emotional, horrifying, and honestly kind of impossible to fully explain without spoiling it.
One of my favorite parts of this book was the found family dynamic, especially Skinny’s relationship with Happy Walker, her school bus driver and basically her father figure. In a story filled with darkness and monstrousness, Happy brings so much warmth and humanity to the book. The relationships here feel incredibly raw and genuine, and that emotional core is what makes the horror hit even harder.
And speaking of the horror, this book is definitely creepy. Not necessarily nonstop jump-scare horror, but the kind that slowly crawls under your skin and makes everything feel wrong. There’s this constant sense of unease hanging over every page, like the mountains themselves know something terrible is coming. The body horror especially gets very disturbing at times; there are scenes in this book that are genuinely hard to shake afterward.
What I loved most is how the story blurs the line between human evil and supernatural evil. Zell Dorsey is honestly horrifying because even before the truly monstrous elements show up, he already feels terrifyingly real. The book keeps asking what makes someone a monster, and whether grief, cruelty, and violence can infect entire communities over generations.
At the same time, this book is shockingly emotional. Beneath all the horror is this heartbreaking story about mothers, grief, loss, love, survival, and the ways communities carry pain through generations. There were moments that genuinely made me emotional, which I wasn’t fully expecting going into a horror novel.
That said, I can definitely see this being a “works for you or doesn’t” type of read. The story sometimes feels dense with ideas, characters, folklore, and emotional themes all layered together at once. It’s not a super fast-paced action-heavy horror novel. But personally, I think the atmosphere and emotional depth are what make it memorable.
Overall, “We Sent Them Down Singing” is a haunting Appalachian horror debut filled with eerie folklore, disturbing body horror, found family, grief, and deeply human emotion. It’s unsettling, heartbreaking, strangely beautiful, and the kind of book that lingers long after you finish it. Perfect for those who love atmospheric horror where the emotional wounds cut just as deep as the monsters do.
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
There was something about this book that felt very old-school horror to me in the best way. Not flashy or overly commercialized horror, but the kind that slowly creeps under your skin and makes everything feel slightly off. The setting of Jubilee, West Virginia was probably my favorite part of the entire book. Libby Edwardson really knows how to create atmosphere, and this story feels heavy with grief, secrets, coal dust, and generational pain from the very beginning.
I loved the Appalachian folklore elements and the emotional side of the story just as much as the horror itself. Skinny felt raw and believable, and the relationships in this book carried a lot of heart. Happy Walker especially stood out to me because he brought warmth into an otherwise dark and unsettling story.
The horror here is more unsettling than outright terrifying. There are definitely some disturbing body horror moments, but for me the strongest part was the constant feeling of dread hanging over everything. You know something bad is coming long before it gets there.
At times the story did feel a little overloaded with ideas and characters, and there were moments where I found myself wanting the plot to tighten up a bit more. But overall, I still think this was a really strong and memorable debut, especially for readers who love atmospheric horror with emotional depth instead of nonstop action.
This feels like a book horror readers are either going to completely connect with or struggle with depending on their reading mood. For me, I appreciated it more for the writing, atmosphere, and emotional themes than for the scares themselves.
I’d probably rate this around 3.5 stars rounded to 4.
Thank you to NetGalley and Page Street Publishing for the eARC.
I loved the Appalachian folklore elements and the emotional side of the story just as much as the horror itself. Skinny felt raw and believable, and the relationships in this book carried a lot of heart. Happy Walker especially stood out to me because he brought warmth into an otherwise dark and unsettling story.
The horror here is more unsettling than outright terrifying. There are definitely some disturbing body horror moments, but for me the strongest part was the constant feeling of dread hanging over everything. You know something bad is coming long before it gets there.
At times the story did feel a little overloaded with ideas and characters, and there were moments where I found myself wanting the plot to tighten up a bit more. But overall, I still think this was a really strong and memorable debut, especially for readers who love atmospheric horror with emotional depth instead of nonstop action.
This feels like a book horror readers are either going to completely connect with or struggle with depending on their reading mood. For me, I appreciated it more for the writing, atmosphere, and emotional themes than for the scares themselves.
I’d probably rate this around 3.5 stars rounded to 4.
Thank you to NetGalley and Page Street Publishing for the eARC.
Review of advance copy
I had the absolute privilege of reading this gorgeous novel early. Featuring found family, beautiful friendships, and two rich settings, We Sent Them Down Singing will make you cry, laugh, then break your heart and stitch it back up again--leaving a scar in the best possible way. Your nightmares couldn't even come up with a villain like Zell Dorsey, but the friendship between the teenaged Phinnie and her best friend/father figure, Happy, is equally unique. I rarely, if ever, read horror, and I absolutely adored this novel!
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
I really enjoyed this story for the unique eco-horror aspect and the strong found-family vibes. This book starts off with a strong and shocking hook and holds up the pace to keep you invested fully throughout. Solid character development and really endearing people who you just root for at every twist and turn, and villains who you loathe through every horror they inflict. Thank-you, Page Street Horror and Libby Edwardson, for this complimentary copy. Opinions expressed in this review are entirely my own.
Review of advance copy received from Author
This book completely consumed me. This is one of those rare books that lingers deep in your bones long after you've finished it. After nearly a year long reading slump, I devoured this. From the very first page to the last, I had full-body goosebumps.This is horror done right.It blurs the line between what’s human and monstrous in a way that feels hauntingly similar to real life. Monsters don’t always look like monsters. They live beside us. They are us… or are they?
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
Don’t read this one late at night! While the found family part of the story is wonderful, the rest is definitely creepy. I love a good horror book when done right! This is a story that is enriched with laugher and sadness, it will keep you turning pages late into the night!
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
3.5
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
This is a book that’ll stick with me for the rest of my life. Genuinely - if I talk about it for too long to my husband, who has heard enough about this book to last him a lifetime and a half - I get misty-eyed. Never have I read such a painfully beautiful, poignant, and utterly timely depiction of motherhood, family, and the earthly bonds that beget grief as love everlasting. Edwardson weaves the primal and inevitable motherly grief of the earth itself with threads of all-too-human accounts of family and loss, masterfully capturing the way that the grief of a place so isolated by time and circumstance can trickle, like the mountains’ oldest waters, down to the youngest of us. In WE SENT THEM DOWN SINGING, Appalachia endures just as the mothering, creative forces of the earth itself endures. Edwardson’s depiction of a mother’s grief and a chosen family’s cosmically inevitable love is complex, heartbreaking, and utterly hopeful. It reminds us all that no matter how small, how isolated, we may feel in this world, the earth— and those we love— will remember us.
And not only is it a deeply touching book, but it's also incredibly unsettling. It's spooky in the best way, getting under your skin and staying there. This book plays masterfully with the uncanny valley - none of the scares are obvious or overdone, but rather are insidious and creeping. There are explosive moments of action, terror, and gore, but the book's strengths lie in its immovable film of sheer creepiness, which covers everything. And the body horror - oh lord, the body horror. There's one part in particular that has lodged in my head for months. Readers, when you get there... you'll know. Not for the faint of heart, I'll tell you that!
This is a stunning debut, and I certainly will be reading everything Libby Edwardson writes from now into eternity.
And not only is it a deeply touching book, but it's also incredibly unsettling. It's spooky in the best way, getting under your skin and staying there. This book plays masterfully with the uncanny valley - none of the scares are obvious or overdone, but rather are insidious and creeping. There are explosive moments of action, terror, and gore, but the book's strengths lie in its immovable film of sheer creepiness, which covers everything. And the body horror - oh lord, the body horror. There's one part in particular that has lodged in my head for months. Readers, when you get there... you'll know. Not for the faint of heart, I'll tell you that!
This is a stunning debut, and I certainly will be reading everything Libby Edwardson writes from now into eternity.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews