Things have only gotten worse for Chris Buckley. Life had been bad enough since moving to the small, strange town of Solitary. Everything turned upside-down. Yanked from the life he knew – friends, school, familiar haunts and faces – uprooted and dragged to a backwoods freak-show of epic proportions, transformed from one of the “in” kids to an outsider. A weirdo. The “new kid” everyone stares at.
But then came Jocelyn. Pale. Beautiful. Mysterious. And about as inconstant as the wind. And, despite her warnings that she was no good for him, that nothing good could come of them being together, Chris did exactly what he didn’t want to: he fell in love.
Just in time to watch her die. In a blood-soaked Satanic ritual in the middle of the woods. Worst of all?
Chris suspects everyone’s in on it. The school administrators. The freakish (but oh-so-trendy and handsome) Pastor Marsh. His fellow classmates. The Sheriff. And in this second installment, Gravestone, the tension is ratcheted up to a nearly unbearable level. Chris is pressed from all sides: the principal, the school bully and his powerful father, the Sheriff, Pastor Marsh…leaving Chris with very few people he can trust.
And, along the way, his mother is falling apart. Descending deeper into her alcoholic stupor. Raving that a man sneaks into her room at night, menacing her, which Chris writes off as part of her worsening condition…
Until he finds the hole in the bathroom wall.
Leading to the tunnel under his house.
Which leads to a network of tunnels, a veritable labyrinth that may very well span the underside of Solitary itself.
Chris makes some knew friends (some unexpected female ones, also), but who can he trust? Kelsey, the seemingly-innocent “girl next door” he paints next to every day in Art Class? Jared, the mysterious young man who claims to be missing Uncle Robert’s son? Or Iris, the enigmatic, grave – yet strangely kind and wise – keeper of The Crag’s Inn?
Who can Chris trust but himself?
And how much longer before even that fails him?
In his second installment of The Solitary Tales, Travis Thrasher continues the fine form that’s won him legions of fans and critical acclaim. I’ve made no secret of my criticism of CBA (Christian Bookseller Association) fiction. Thrasher, however, is an exception. His prose is smooth – first person-present tense in this, which is hard to pull off – and there are genuine surprises here. Genuine tension. Second book into the series, and Thrasher has hid his secrets well.
Also, there’s something addicting about Trasher’s prose, down to the word-level. It’s compels the reader forward. And, even though the term “Christian Horror” is one that’s hotly debated in all sorts of circles, this is the type of thing that comes closest: because here, there are no guarantees. With Jocelyn’s apparent murder (and here’s hoping that doesn’t turn out to be “faked”), at the end of Solitary, all bets are off. A key element in good horror (or any good story) is suspense and anticipation, which leaves the readers both unsure and anxious to see how it all ends up. And Thrasher’s Solitary Tales offers that up in spades.