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St. Ulphia's Dead
What would it take for a reasonable person to believe the impossible?
When researcher Mirs arrives on the remote island of St. Ulphia to investigate reports of an impossible outbreak of psychosis, he expects to uncover a rational explanation. Alongside his skeptical supervisor, Jo, he begins investigating a community whose increasingly unsettling stories seem to defy belief.
Yet every answer reveals another contradiction. As Mirs and Jo are drawn deeper into the island—and into each other's lives—the questions driving their search begin to change.
Darkly comic, psychologically unsettling, and unexpectedly tender, St. Ulphia's Dead begins as a literary mystery before becoming an exploration of the stories people rely on to make sense of the world.
For readers who enjoy novels that deepen questions rather than simply resolve them.
When researcher Mirs arrives on the remote island of St. Ulphia to investigate reports of an impossible outbreak of psychosis, he expects to uncover a rational explanation. Alongside his skeptical supervisor, Jo, he begins investigating a community whose increasingly unsettling stories seem to defy belief.
Yet every answer reveals another contradiction. As Mirs and Jo are drawn deeper into the island—and into each other's lives—the questions driving their search begin to change.
Darkly comic, psychologically unsettling, and unexpectedly tender, St. Ulphia's Dead begins as a literary mystery before becoming an exploration of the stories people rely on to make sense of the world.
For readers who enjoy novels that deepen questions rather than simply resolve them.
210 pages, Paperback
Published July 7, 2026
About the author
Scott Lambridis
5 books12 followersScott Lambridis writes literary speculative fiction about the stories people rely on to make sense of the world.
His debut novel, St. Ulphia's Dead, blends literary fiction, dark comedy, and the speculative as two researchers investigate an impossible outbreak on a remote island.
Scott studied neurobiology at the University of Virginia before earning an MFA in Fiction from San Francisco State University. His work has appeared in Slice, Fence, The Café Irreal, and HamLit. He has also run an independent press, performed with a progressive rock band, tended an olive farm, and read a book from every country in the world. He lives in Bellingham, Washington.
His debut novel, St. Ulphia's Dead, blends literary fiction, dark comedy, and the speculative as two researchers investigate an impossible outbreak on a remote island.
Scott studied neurobiology at the University of Virginia before earning an MFA in Fiction from San Francisco State University. His work has appeared in Slice, Fence, The Café Irreal, and HamLit. He has also run an independent press, performed with a progressive rock band, tended an olive farm, and read a book from every country in the world. He lives in Bellingham, Washington.
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Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
May 6, 2026
NETGALLEY ARC, publishing July 2026
****POSSIBLE SPOILERS****
My first few forays into this book’s first chapters were tentative and choppy. Then, around chapter 12, things changed. From chapter 12 to the end, I read this in two, back to back sittings.
I’ll be honest that some of this book went over my head and some of the interior thoughts of the main characters seemed a tad foolish.
The mystery was good but the commentary on life, death and freedom was what made me rate this so highly.
This premise isn’t a new one but how it turned out is. This quote from towards the end perfectly sums up the meaning I inferred from this book: “Everywhere else they’re so attached to life that they’re obsessed with death. Here they just live.”
I would say if you read the book synopsis or either of these quotes and find any part of it/them interesting, to go ahead and read the book. You will get a more thoughtful and literary commentary than you might expect.
I’m definitely following this author!
QUOTE: “Life doesn’t escalate smoothly, thought Jo, or in a clear line of action and consequence; it lurches forward in spurts and gasps, and only after some non-pivotal moment do you realize you’d arrived some time ago onto a new plateau of life. You only need a break from ritual to realize it, but the precise moment of shift remains a mystery. No, she thought, we don’t know ourselves as well as we think we should, and maybe that’s better than knowing ourselves too well.”
****POSSIBLE SPOILERS****
My first few forays into this book’s first chapters were tentative and choppy. Then, around chapter 12, things changed. From chapter 12 to the end, I read this in two, back to back sittings.
I’ll be honest that some of this book went over my head and some of the interior thoughts of the main characters seemed a tad foolish.
The mystery was good but the commentary on life, death and freedom was what made me rate this so highly.
This premise isn’t a new one but how it turned out is. This quote from towards the end perfectly sums up the meaning I inferred from this book: “Everywhere else they’re so attached to life that they’re obsessed with death. Here they just live.”
I would say if you read the book synopsis or either of these quotes and find any part of it/them interesting, to go ahead and read the book. You will get a more thoughtful and literary commentary than you might expect.
I’m definitely following this author!
QUOTE: “Life doesn’t escalate smoothly, thought Jo, or in a clear line of action and consequence; it lurches forward in spurts and gasps, and only after some non-pivotal moment do you realize you’d arrived some time ago onto a new plateau of life. You only need a break from ritual to realize it, but the precise moment of shift remains a mystery. No, she thought, we don’t know ourselves as well as we think we should, and maybe that’s better than knowing ourselves too well.”
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 15, 2026
At the core of St. Ulphia’s Dead, Scott Lambridis’ ideal-rending debut novel, a familiar cycle is challenged. Instead of birth>life>death — the oft-considered fundamental trio of human existence — love>death>rebirth claws to the forefront, shakes us bloody, and insists we begin again. One self at a time.
The inhabitants of St. Ulphia have been struck by an uncontrollable madness that seems to forever sweep the island. Researcher Mirs and his supervisor Jo pick up where the past scientific team left off — what is causing the cannibalistic Wendigo to possess these villagers? Why is there no body found after the Wendigo strikes? How can this mass outbreak be stopped?
Trapped within the confines of their respective job descriptions, both Mirs and Jo are responsible for finding answers, but as outsiders they struggle to know if what they are being told is true, if the villagers are actually eating one another in the nighttime, and if either of them have a firm enough grasp on their own selves to finish the task at hand.
Ultimately, the repetitive answers the villagers offer become far less important than all that goes unsaid. All that is slowly witnessed probes deeper questions still. Together, Mirs and Jo must unwillingly journey to the heart of a prolonged psychosis— their own, each having never before been considered, as well as that of every unique St. Ulphia inhabitant.
Where does love come from? What is death? How do our names meet us in the shock of rebirth?
From page one, Lambridis paints a vivid community that modern science cannot touch. In an effort to solve the unsolvable, hilarity, grotesquery, discomfort, and a massive bee-filled-bottle of the unbelievable (perhaps magical?!) ensues, showing that even the most unimaginable forms of relationships, harm, and identity can be well grappled with when we set down black versus white thinking in favor of the gray. We each ultimately choose what we love and can best live by cracking wide open to learn how to die. There we will find ourselves.
The inhabitants of St. Ulphia have been struck by an uncontrollable madness that seems to forever sweep the island. Researcher Mirs and his supervisor Jo pick up where the past scientific team left off — what is causing the cannibalistic Wendigo to possess these villagers? Why is there no body found after the Wendigo strikes? How can this mass outbreak be stopped?
Trapped within the confines of their respective job descriptions, both Mirs and Jo are responsible for finding answers, but as outsiders they struggle to know if what they are being told is true, if the villagers are actually eating one another in the nighttime, and if either of them have a firm enough grasp on their own selves to finish the task at hand.
Ultimately, the repetitive answers the villagers offer become far less important than all that goes unsaid. All that is slowly witnessed probes deeper questions still. Together, Mirs and Jo must unwillingly journey to the heart of a prolonged psychosis— their own, each having never before been considered, as well as that of every unique St. Ulphia inhabitant.
Where does love come from? What is death? How do our names meet us in the shock of rebirth?
From page one, Lambridis paints a vivid community that modern science cannot touch. In an effort to solve the unsolvable, hilarity, grotesquery, discomfort, and a massive bee-filled-bottle of the unbelievable (perhaps magical?!) ensues, showing that even the most unimaginable forms of relationships, harm, and identity can be well grappled with when we set down black versus white thinking in favor of the gray. We each ultimately choose what we love and can best live by cracking wide open to learn how to die. There we will find ourselves.
Did Not Finish
June 30, 2026Started out interesting, a take on Wendigos as a mental condition deserving investigation, but I had to stop because the author wrote descriptively about a child brothel at about the 43% mark. No thank-you.
August 13, 2026
This is one of those works of literature that will keep you on your toes as you wade through the great existential questions that define us as conscious beings. The weird "other worldliness" of the story oddly draws the reader in to face the issues that are common to us all. The author deftly touches on the mysteries of psychology, philosophy, the afterlife, sociology & anthropology in the course of unraveling the mysterious lives and deaths of the people of St. Ulphia.
The surface level of the story itself is densely packed with strange characters whose histories and motives are unclear. Like the main characters who have arrived from the outside to validate previously reported findings, the reader may find themselves likewise trying to grasp the truth, only to find the handhold slip away as new "evidence" comes into the picture. It becomes apparent that certainty is the one stance that will not function.
A phrase from the text is a key for how to approach understanding this work as well as what it means to be human, "Don't dally, don't rush."
The surface level of the story itself is densely packed with strange characters whose histories and motives are unclear. Like the main characters who have arrived from the outside to validate previously reported findings, the reader may find themselves likewise trying to grasp the truth, only to find the handhold slip away as new "evidence" comes into the picture. It becomes apparent that certainty is the one stance that will not function.
A phrase from the text is a key for how to approach understanding this work as well as what it means to be human, "Don't dally, don't rush."
July 17, 2026
This book is thought provoking, paradoxical and a lot of fun to read. It's really good at putting you in the perspective of the main characters, two medical researchers trying to make sense of an island community that claims to be haunted by a cannibalistic spirit, the Wendigo. Throughout the whole book, there's a sense that something is deeply wrong, and that stays all the way through to the end, even as more and more layers of the mystery are peeled away. The sinister feeling of wrong doesn't end when the book does, and it's up to the reader to make sense of it. While reading I was oscillating between believing there had to be some way to explain all the contradictions away and thinking the Wendigo, with all the absurdity it implies, is real within the world of the book. By the end, any sense of stable, reliable truth was blown up in the air, and that raised a lot of interesting questions about trauma, love and human nature. At the same time, there's a tense romance happening between the two main characters, Jo and Mirs, whose backstory and psychological profiles are explored in detail, making them very fleshed out and realistic characters. The writing, especially description, is really effective at making you feel immersed in this isolated tropical island, with all its maddening discomforts that add up to push the main characters over the edge of sanity. I could practically feel the hot air and the smell of rotting fruit, and it had me wishing the book would end with the protagonists taking a well deserved bath. I recommend this book to anyone who's interested in questioning the foundations of their views on love and death, but be careful with trusting anything the book tells you!
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
St. Ulphia’s Dead has the energy of a graduate thesis getting possessed in real time. You start out thinking you’re reading a creepy little folk horror mystery about a possible Wendigo outbreak on a remote island, and then suddenly everyone is debating reality, trauma, desire, consciousness, and whether science is just gaslighting with paperwork. Meanwhile I’m sitting there trying to remember who disappeared, who reappeared, and which emotionally constipated researcher is currently having a philosophical breakdown in a hallway.
Mirs and Jo arrive on St. Ulphia to investigate what’s supposedly a case of mass psychosis, which already feels like the world’s least relaxing business trip. The villagers insist they’re being possessed one by one by a cannibalistic demon, and honestly the villagers have the confidence of people who know they are absolutely ruining your LinkedIn skill set. You can practically feel Jo trying to hold onto rational thought with both hands while Mirs keeps wandering emotionally into traffic.
The first chunk of this book absolutely tested me. Not because it’s bad, but because it throws names, perspectives, theories, and weird little existential side quests at you like it’s trying to emotionally concuss you before the plot settles down. I spent a good while reading with the exact same energy as someone nodding during a conversation they stopped understanding twenty minutes ago. But then somewhere around the middle, the whole thing clicks into place and suddenly you’re locked in, slightly sweaty, and deeply invested in these disaster academics stumbling through island horror like two people who absolutely should not flirt during a demonic investigation and yet here we are.
And weirdly, the emotional stuff works best when the book stops trying so hard to sound profound and just lets the characters be sad little freaks together. Mirs especially has this constant undercurrent of shame and desperation that makes him exhausting but also painfully human. He’s the kind of guy who thinks one more intellectual breakthrough will finally fix the hole in his chest, which unfortunately is not how being alive works. Jo, meanwhile, feels like someone who learned a long time ago that if she keeps moving and analyzing and staying practical, maybe nothing can actually touch her. Which is of course exactly the kind of mindset a haunted island loves to eat for breakfast.
The Wendigo stuff rules, by the way. Not in a clean, straightforward horror novel way, but in that slippery “is this supernatural or is everyone collectively unraveling?” kind of way that makes every interaction feel a little infected. The island itself starts to feel less like a setting and more like a psychological hostage situation. Every conversation has this underlying vibe of, “What if none of us are perceiving reality correctly?” which is fun in books and less fun during family holidays.
What I appreciated most is that underneath all the surreal horror and philosophical chaos, the book is really about people trying to survive themselves. It keeps circling back to loneliness, grief, shame, and the stories we invent so life feels less random and cruel. There’s a genuinely beautiful idea buried in all the madness about how humans need meaning almost as badly as they need each other, even when both of those things completely wreck them. Then five pages later someone’s talking about demon possession again and your brain has to switch tracks like a subway conductor having a panic attack.
I do think the ending arrives a little too fast considering how much heavy lifting the setup demands. This book spends a lot of time carefully building its strange little philosophical horror dollhouse, then suddenly starts sprinting toward the finish line like it remembered it left the oven on. I wanted maybe one or two more chapters to really let the emotional fallout settle because some of the ideas hit harder than the resolution itself.
Still, this is a solid three star read for me because even when it frustrated me, I was never bored. And honestly? I respect a book that swings this hard. "St. Ulphia’s Dead" is strange, messy, funny, ambitious, occasionally up its own ass, but also weirdly sincere in a way that won me over. It feels like if Annihilation and Scooby-Doo got trapped in a philosophy department together and somehow developed real feelings.
Whodunity Award: For Making Me Question Science, Reality, And Whether HR Approved This Research Trip
Huge thank you to Regal House Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC, because apparently my reward for reading responsibly is being psychologically waterboarded by sexy academic demon folklore.
Mirs and Jo arrive on St. Ulphia to investigate what’s supposedly a case of mass psychosis, which already feels like the world’s least relaxing business trip. The villagers insist they’re being possessed one by one by a cannibalistic demon, and honestly the villagers have the confidence of people who know they are absolutely ruining your LinkedIn skill set. You can practically feel Jo trying to hold onto rational thought with both hands while Mirs keeps wandering emotionally into traffic.
The first chunk of this book absolutely tested me. Not because it’s bad, but because it throws names, perspectives, theories, and weird little existential side quests at you like it’s trying to emotionally concuss you before the plot settles down. I spent a good while reading with the exact same energy as someone nodding during a conversation they stopped understanding twenty minutes ago. But then somewhere around the middle, the whole thing clicks into place and suddenly you’re locked in, slightly sweaty, and deeply invested in these disaster academics stumbling through island horror like two people who absolutely should not flirt during a demonic investigation and yet here we are.
And weirdly, the emotional stuff works best when the book stops trying so hard to sound profound and just lets the characters be sad little freaks together. Mirs especially has this constant undercurrent of shame and desperation that makes him exhausting but also painfully human. He’s the kind of guy who thinks one more intellectual breakthrough will finally fix the hole in his chest, which unfortunately is not how being alive works. Jo, meanwhile, feels like someone who learned a long time ago that if she keeps moving and analyzing and staying practical, maybe nothing can actually touch her. Which is of course exactly the kind of mindset a haunted island loves to eat for breakfast.
The Wendigo stuff rules, by the way. Not in a clean, straightforward horror novel way, but in that slippery “is this supernatural or is everyone collectively unraveling?” kind of way that makes every interaction feel a little infected. The island itself starts to feel less like a setting and more like a psychological hostage situation. Every conversation has this underlying vibe of, “What if none of us are perceiving reality correctly?” which is fun in books and less fun during family holidays.
What I appreciated most is that underneath all the surreal horror and philosophical chaos, the book is really about people trying to survive themselves. It keeps circling back to loneliness, grief, shame, and the stories we invent so life feels less random and cruel. There’s a genuinely beautiful idea buried in all the madness about how humans need meaning almost as badly as they need each other, even when both of those things completely wreck them. Then five pages later someone’s talking about demon possession again and your brain has to switch tracks like a subway conductor having a panic attack.
I do think the ending arrives a little too fast considering how much heavy lifting the setup demands. This book spends a lot of time carefully building its strange little philosophical horror dollhouse, then suddenly starts sprinting toward the finish line like it remembered it left the oven on. I wanted maybe one or two more chapters to really let the emotional fallout settle because some of the ideas hit harder than the resolution itself.
Still, this is a solid three star read for me because even when it frustrated me, I was never bored. And honestly? I respect a book that swings this hard. "St. Ulphia’s Dead" is strange, messy, funny, ambitious, occasionally up its own ass, but also weirdly sincere in a way that won me over. It feels like if Annihilation and Scooby-Doo got trapped in a philosophy department together and somehow developed real feelings.
Whodunity Award: For Making Me Question Science, Reality, And Whether HR Approved This Research Trip
Huge thank you to Regal House Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC, because apparently my reward for reading responsibly is being psychologically waterboarded by sexy academic demon folklore.
July 30, 2026
This is mislabelled as horror. It’s an existential lit fic wrapped in a yearning-denial romance (giving Mulder and Scully but as medical anthropologists instead of FBI agents). Tons of philosophizing about death and mortality. It wasn’t what I signed up for, but it wasn’t bad, just not for me.
🐺 Howls: The writing flows well and objectively I liked it, but something about how it’s stitched together read confusing at times. It head-hops too much, I had trouble figuring out who was in a scene, where they were relative to each other, what was even happening. I couldn’t picture the action or grasp why a character was reacting a certain way to something. It was like the author had a great sense of the story and scene but forgot to add context and transition scenes for the rest of us.
🐕 Tail Wags: Took awhile to warm up to, but I liked the subtly comedic, satirical undertone. The romantic tensions had that skeptic vs believer “can’t bring myself to hate her” pull and chemistry between the main characters. Loved their chemistry. Watching the villagers interact with them. Learned new things about culture-bound mental illness and syndromes.
Scene: 🌍 Euro-African village on St Ulphia off the northwest coast of Africa
Perspectives (2): Two investigators with the Central Medical Compendium looking into wendigo psychosis, where people develop a fear of eating their loved ones. (1) An investigator following in the footsteps of an admired researcher who first documented the phenomenon in this village before being dismissed by the CMC. (2) An investigator placed in a supervisory role for the first time, tasked with keeping things quick and focused on an explainable, non-cultural cause.
Timeline: Linear. 2010s or 2020s.
Narrative: Mind reading, thrown in wandering through the story (third person omniscient)
Cred: Surreal
Stakes: Low-Medium. Meaning, mortality, duty, belief.
Mood Reading Match-Up:
Flies. Mosquitoes. Pink fluff. Soapboxing.
• Detailed, fragmented, abrupt writing style
• Reserved, agreeable, curious, moody, eccentric characters
• Medical sociopsychologists exploring madness, culture, and remote village life
• Death, mortality, duty
• Touch of scientific satire
• Wholesome close-proximity, mutual-denial workplace romance
• Undead superstitions and spirituality
• Taboos around sex and death
• Philosophizing and psychoanalyzing lit fic
Content Heads-Up: Blood. Death (funeral, discussion, major topic). Emotionally abusive relationship (recalls). Gore. Murder. Narcissistic abuse (recalls). Rape (descriptive recall). Sexual content (group, adult-teen; sexual desires and thoughts - descriptive, on page). Vomit.
Rep: Slavic. Kiwi. Cis. Hetero. Loamy, pale, dark, and light skin tones. Asthma.
Format: Advance Reader’s Copy from Regal House Publishing and NetGalley
My musings 💖 powered by puppy snuggles 🐶
🐺 Howls: The writing flows well and objectively I liked it, but something about how it’s stitched together read confusing at times. It head-hops too much, I had trouble figuring out who was in a scene, where they were relative to each other, what was even happening. I couldn’t picture the action or grasp why a character was reacting a certain way to something. It was like the author had a great sense of the story and scene but forgot to add context and transition scenes for the rest of us.
🐕 Tail Wags: Took awhile to warm up to, but I liked the subtly comedic, satirical undertone. The romantic tensions had that skeptic vs believer “can’t bring myself to hate her” pull and chemistry between the main characters. Loved their chemistry. Watching the villagers interact with them. Learned new things about culture-bound mental illness and syndromes.
Scene: 🌍 Euro-African village on St Ulphia off the northwest coast of Africa
Perspectives (2): Two investigators with the Central Medical Compendium looking into wendigo psychosis, where people develop a fear of eating their loved ones. (1) An investigator following in the footsteps of an admired researcher who first documented the phenomenon in this village before being dismissed by the CMC. (2) An investigator placed in a supervisory role for the first time, tasked with keeping things quick and focused on an explainable, non-cultural cause.
Timeline: Linear. 2010s or 2020s.
Narrative: Mind reading, thrown in wandering through the story (third person omniscient)
Cred: Surreal
Stakes: Low-Medium. Meaning, mortality, duty, belief.
Mood Reading Match-Up:
Flies. Mosquitoes. Pink fluff. Soapboxing.
• Detailed, fragmented, abrupt writing style
• Reserved, agreeable, curious, moody, eccentric characters
• Medical sociopsychologists exploring madness, culture, and remote village life
• Death, mortality, duty
• Touch of scientific satire
• Wholesome close-proximity, mutual-denial workplace romance
• Undead superstitions and spirituality
• Taboos around sex and death
• Philosophizing and psychoanalyzing lit fic
Content Heads-Up: Blood. Death (funeral, discussion, major topic). Emotionally abusive relationship (recalls). Gore. Murder. Narcissistic abuse (recalls). Rape (descriptive recall). Sexual content (group, adult-teen; sexual desires and thoughts - descriptive, on page). Vomit.
Rep: Slavic. Kiwi. Cis. Hetero. Loamy, pale, dark, and light skin tones. Asthma.
Format: Advance Reader’s Copy from Regal House Publishing and NetGalley
My musings 💖 powered by puppy snuggles 🐶
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
St. Ulphia’s Dead is an ambitious novel that leans heavily into atmosphere, philosophy, and ambiguity—but for me, it never quite comes together in a satisfying way.
The premise is undeniably compelling: a remote island, a supposed outbreak of possession, and the looming presence of Wendigo folklore. There’s a lot here that should work. The tone is eerie, the ideas are layered, and the book clearly wants to explore deeper questions about perception, trauma, and the nature of truth. However, the execution made it difficult to stay fully engaged.
From the beginning, the narrative feels disorienting in a way that doesn’t feel intentional so much as overwhelming. The constant introduction of names, shifting perspectives, and abstract concepts made it hard to find a clear foothold in the story. Instead of building intrigue, it often created distance.
Even once things start to take shape, the pacing remains uneven. There are moments where the writing feels almost overly self-aware—more focused on being clever or philosophical than on grounding the reader in the story itself. Because of that, the emotional stakes never fully landed for me.
The ending, in particular, felt rushed considering how much the book asks the reader to invest upfront. After such a dense and layered buildup, it needed more time to breathe and resolve its ideas. Instead, it left me feeling like the story pulled away just when it should have been sharpening its impact.
Overall, while I can appreciate what this book is trying to do, it didn’t fully work for me. Readers who enjoy highly abstract, unconventional storytelling may find more to connect with here, but if you’re looking for a cohesive and immersive mystery, this may feel more frustrating than rewarding.
Rating: 2.5–3 stars
St. Ulphia’s Dead is an ambitious novel that leans heavily into atmosphere, philosophy, and ambiguity—but for me, it never quite comes together in a satisfying way.
The premise is undeniably compelling: a remote island, a supposed outbreak of possession, and the looming presence of Wendigo folklore. There’s a lot here that should work. The tone is eerie, the ideas are layered, and the book clearly wants to explore deeper questions about perception, trauma, and the nature of truth. However, the execution made it difficult to stay fully engaged.
From the beginning, the narrative feels disorienting in a way that doesn’t feel intentional so much as overwhelming. The constant introduction of names, shifting perspectives, and abstract concepts made it hard to find a clear foothold in the story. Instead of building intrigue, it often created distance.
Even once things start to take shape, the pacing remains uneven. There are moments where the writing feels almost overly self-aware—more focused on being clever or philosophical than on grounding the reader in the story itself. Because of that, the emotional stakes never fully landed for me.
The ending, in particular, felt rushed considering how much the book asks the reader to invest upfront. After such a dense and layered buildup, it needed more time to breathe and resolve its ideas. Instead, it left me feeling like the story pulled away just when it should have been sharpening its impact.
Overall, while I can appreciate what this book is trying to do, it didn’t fully work for me. Readers who enjoy highly abstract, unconventional storytelling may find more to connect with here, but if you’re looking for a cohesive and immersive mystery, this may feel more frustrating than rewarding.
Rating: 2.5–3 stars
August 1, 2026
In “St. Ulphia’s Dead,”
author Scott Lambridis crafts a haunting and darkly comic psychological mystery set on the remote island of St. Ulphia, where disgraced medical researcher Mirs and his skeptical supervisor Jo investigate an outbreak of apparent mass psychosis. As villagers insist they are being possessed by a cannibalistic demon known as the Wendigo, the investigation spirals into a web of disappearances, fractured loyalties, and unsettling contradictions. While the novel begins at a deliberate pace, it finds its footing midway, building into a tense and increasingly disorienting narrative that becomes difficult to put down.
Lambridis blends absurd humor with meditations on trauma, mortality, and human connection, creating a novel in which certainty dissolves beneath the reader’s feet. Drawing from science fiction, folk horror, and the literary ghost story while retaining the lyrical sensibility of magical realism, St. Ulphia’s Dead transforms the classic detective narrative into something stranger and more psychologically resonant. The deeper the investigation, the less clear the answers become.
Inventive, unsettling, and emotionally incisive, “St. Ulphia’s Dead” explores how isolation distorts belief, how trauma reshapes truth, and how the most terrifying demons are often the ones we create ourselves. Readers of my blog know this genre is typically not my cup of tea, yet I can easily recommend this inventive novel to fans of Cormac McCarthy, Richard K. Morgan, and Blake Crouch.
author Scott Lambridis crafts a haunting and darkly comic psychological mystery set on the remote island of St. Ulphia, where disgraced medical researcher Mirs and his skeptical supervisor Jo investigate an outbreak of apparent mass psychosis. As villagers insist they are being possessed by a cannibalistic demon known as the Wendigo, the investigation spirals into a web of disappearances, fractured loyalties, and unsettling contradictions. While the novel begins at a deliberate pace, it finds its footing midway, building into a tense and increasingly disorienting narrative that becomes difficult to put down.
Lambridis blends absurd humor with meditations on trauma, mortality, and human connection, creating a novel in which certainty dissolves beneath the reader’s feet. Drawing from science fiction, folk horror, and the literary ghost story while retaining the lyrical sensibility of magical realism, St. Ulphia’s Dead transforms the classic detective narrative into something stranger and more psychologically resonant. The deeper the investigation, the less clear the answers become.
Inventive, unsettling, and emotionally incisive, “St. Ulphia’s Dead” explores how isolation distorts belief, how trauma reshapes truth, and how the most terrifying demons are often the ones we create ourselves. Readers of my blog know this genre is typically not my cup of tea, yet I can easily recommend this inventive novel to fans of Cormac McCarthy, Richard K. Morgan, and Blake Crouch.
Did Not Finish
July 16, 2026The urge to DNF this one popped up fairly early on. The misappropriation of an Indigenous American folktale rubbed me the wrong way immediately, even though this book is actually telling a very different kind of tale. Honestly, that’s on me, though—this is the second time in the last few months I skimmed a book’s description, misremembered the premise, and requested it later without checking again. The book’s not bad, just not really for me. That said, the world-building is careful and thorough, and the secondary characters are interesting and realistic. I liked Jo, neurotic weirdo that she is, but found Mirs somewhat bland and unremarkable. I found the romantic subplot uninteresting, but I tend to be ambivalent towards romance in general—if the book is otherwise grabbing me then romance won’t deter me, but if I’m struggling to get engaged in the story the addition of romance will turn me off. Ultimately, the way the author sexualizes Jo within Mirs’ internal dialogue was so off-putting that I could not finish the book.
Thanks to Regal House Publishing for providing an advance reader copy through NetGalley.
Thanks to Regal House Publishing for providing an advance reader copy through NetGalley.
September 22, 2026
I did not expect to love this book as much as I did. It is such an unusual premise that I wasn't sure what to expect. Two government officials land in a small Caribbean-esque town to prove (or, more accurately, attempt to disprove) a mental illness in the form of mass psychosis. The protagonist Mirs and his troubled supervisor Jo are absurdly funny as they try to navigate and quantify a foreign culture. I was reminded of my time spent as a bumbling visitor to a foreign culture.
I kept thinking the story was going to rotate toward horror. It is, after all, about a condition in which people are transformed into a cannabalistic demon. Or are they? The truth the researchers have come to discover and measure proves as slippery as ripe mangoes. The more facts Mirs and Jo uncover, the more the complex culture of the island envelops them in a sensual embrace, which may or may not prove lethal.
I kept thinking the story was going to rotate toward horror. It is, after all, about a condition in which people are transformed into a cannabalistic demon. Or are they? The truth the researchers have come to discover and measure proves as slippery as ripe mangoes. The more facts Mirs and Jo uncover, the more the complex culture of the island envelops them in a sensual embrace, which may or may not prove lethal.
August 8, 2026
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with an ARC. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
My issues started from the very beginning. I think it’s tone deaf, ignorant, and disrespectful to use Algonquian folklore as the “monster” being investigated, especially considering that the book takes place on some remote island across the ocean from where the lore originates. Beyond that total disrespect to Algonquian spiritual beliefs, St. Ulphia’s Dead suffers from just overall being inconsistent. The story being told is inconsistent in if it’s a horror or a travelogue or speculative fiction or literary fiction. The pacing goes from slow to fast to slow again and the narrative jumps around in a way that felt disconcerting. Overall, I just didn’t have an enjoyable experience while reading this.
My issues started from the very beginning. I think it’s tone deaf, ignorant, and disrespectful to use Algonquian folklore as the “monster” being investigated, especially considering that the book takes place on some remote island across the ocean from where the lore originates. Beyond that total disrespect to Algonquian spiritual beliefs, St. Ulphia’s Dead suffers from just overall being inconsistent. The story being told is inconsistent in if it’s a horror or a travelogue or speculative fiction or literary fiction. The pacing goes from slow to fast to slow again and the narrative jumps around in a way that felt disconcerting. Overall, I just didn’t have an enjoyable experience while reading this.
September 11, 2026
Right from the title this book is a wonder. Not a single narrator in this book can be considered reliable, yet the story is compelling. You don't really know what is happening, or maybe better stated, you know what is happening, but you don't know if it is true. When you get to the end of the novel, you'll want to read it again.
Also, the author very smartly does not answer all the mysteries for you. This book explores a number of themes around death, love and how life experiences create perspectives on the same events. Your own experiences will color your own interpretation not just of the important themes, but also about ehat actually happened.
Also, the author very smartly does not answer all the mysteries for you. This book explores a number of themes around death, love and how life experiences create perspectives on the same events. Your own experiences will color your own interpretation not just of the important themes, but also about ehat actually happened.
August 17, 2026
I feel like the base of this story had promise but it didn't quite hit the mark for me. At times the medical jargon made it a bit difficult to keep the reading flow going.
The pace was steady, maybe a little slow at the start but the main body of the story wasn't too bad. I'm not sure why it wrapped up quite so quickly because it felt like there was more to be explained.
Perhaps the qualities of this book just went a bit over my head. I can see how readers who enjoy more abstract and unusual narratives would enjoy this, but it was just a bit too far away from what I usually read.
The pace was steady, maybe a little slow at the start but the main body of the story wasn't too bad. I'm not sure why it wrapped up quite so quickly because it felt like there was more to be explained.
Perhaps the qualities of this book just went a bit over my head. I can see how readers who enjoy more abstract and unusual narratives would enjoy this, but it was just a bit too far away from what I usually read.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
*thank you Netgalley for the ARC so i was able to give a honest review*
I was excited because wendigos are by favorite folklore creatures and i really wanted to like it. The beginning was slow and confusing at first but when it got going it was good but ended to fast. Feel like few more chapters could have helped ending. Overall a mid story and book that i did enjoy because i do like the story.
I was excited because wendigos are by favorite folklore creatures and i really wanted to like it. The beginning was slow and confusing at first but when it got going it was good but ended to fast. Feel like few more chapters could have helped ending. Overall a mid story and book that i did enjoy because i do like the story.
Review of advance copy received from Indie Reviewers
At times Lovecraftian and esoteric. At times silly, suble & human. Never not engaging. I was fortunate to stumble across this author and there horror fiction. They are forever on my read list and I'm eager for more.
July 11, 2026
I blurbed this book: “The dead never tell the truth about themselves.” St. Ulphia’s Dead begins as a mystery and turns into a provocation, asking us to question our most fundamental moral assumptions. Daring, inventive, and transgressive, it is also romantic—and deeply joyful."
August 23, 2026
Lambridis succeeds in creating heaps of whimsy in a unique world-building that is both captivating and intriguing. At times deeply heartfelt and thought provoking - at other times downright quirky - the details in this story are the most enjoyable.
July 10, 2026
Find my full review on Ancillary Review of Books.
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