Ghost Ride

by Hope Zane

Two sisters road trip their way through an uncertain apocalypse in a world of endless night. The sun comes up, or it doesn’t. You eat or you starve. Whatever you do, you do it with her by your side. Unflinching, unchanging, a beautiful sister who only exists in the brief flashes of streetlights up above.

You love and you hate her. The night is dark without her. The radio picks up transmissions of frantic televangelists ranting about sin and glory. The zoo animals are dead in their cages, and all the while, you drive.

Who do you want to be? What do you want to love?

Genres: Sisters

78 pages, Kindle Edition

Published November 22, 2020

About the author

Hope Zane (they/them) writes queer fiction, particularly fantasy that straddles the line between love and horror. We aren't afraid of the dark around these parts—not the night outside the window or the shadow parts of the human soul.

Hope tells dark stories with a thread of hope woven through them, stories about sex that are really about trust, and stories about pain that are really about love.

They're here to remind you that there are things that can harm us but still nothing to fear.

You can sign up for Hope's newsletter at hopezane.com/join

Reviews

[caro_cactus]

TL; DR : I liked it, but it's a polarizing book with CWs, so YMMV

This is a dark, unusual specimen of a novella which is definitely not for everyone (CW for lesbian sibling incest), following Alexis and Moriah on their mysterious roadtrip through the wasteland of a slow apocalypse (in progress?) where it's dark more often than not. The writing is surreal and visceral and full of little gems, and the focus on the co-dependant, tortured relationship contributes to the feeling of claustrophobia. Many questions are left unresolved, and the ending did feel abrupt, although I'm not sure what other kind of ending there could have been. We had a debate about it in my book group, but I for one think Alexis's decision at the end makes sense.

My favorite part was the zoo, and Moriah's question, "Who keeps the animals fed at the end of the world?" lives rent-free in my head. I can't help but make a comparison to one way I've heard the spirit of hopepunk described, "Planting tomato seeds in the apocalypse" (Jennifer Mace, co-host of the Be the Serpent podcast). This book is not hopepunk. There is no hope left. And yet there is still beauty, and hunger (for food, for space, for touch), and the instinct to survive. It is, strangely enough, not a pessimistic book, in the way that many dystopias are. It doesn't twist your hopes on you, does not try and prove that humans are monsters. It just explores the remains of the day.

Dystopias often make me tired now - this book did not. It's doing something else. Not dystopia or utopia or counter-utopia, but heterotopia *puts on pretentious French intellectual glasses*. No but seriously though, if you're okay with the CW (and totally understandable if it squicks you out), this is a really good text to discuss in a book group with other adults who know and trust each other, we got some great thoughts going. I'm definitely ready to check out other works in this author's backlist.

[podo]

fuck i finished reading the whole thing in 2ish hours and god it was so good. i feel like crying. moriah makes me feel so much. they both do. i want more of them i want to know everything i want to watch them at the end of the world

[Lita]

Beautifully written, engaging, and bleak in the best of ways. A short, lovely read. I look forward to reading more from this author.

[Alex]

One of my all-time favorites