Theme Music by T. Marie Vandelly

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket: 

For the lucky among us, life is what you make of it, but for Dixie Wheeler, the theme music for her story was chosen by another long ago, on the day her father butchered her mother and brothers and then slashed a knife across his own throat. Only one-year-old Dixie was left alive, infamously known as Baby Blue for the song left playing in the aftermath of the slaughter.

Twenty-five years later, Dixie is still desperate for a connection to the family she can’t remember, so when her childhood home goes up for sale, Dixie sets aside all reason and moves in. But as the ghosts of her family seemingly begin to take up residence in the home that was once theirs, Dixie starts to question her own sanity and wonders if the evil force menacing her is that of her father, or a demon of her own making.

In order to make sense of her present, Dixie becomes determined to unravel the truth of her past and seeks out the detective who originally investigated the murders. But the more she learns, the more she opens up the uncomfortable possibility that the sins of her father may belong to another. As bodies begin to pile up around her, Dixie must find a way to expose the lunacy behind her family’s massacre in order to save her few loved ones who are still alive—and whatever scrap of sanity she has left. 

How could anyone read that synopsis and not want to dive right in? Granted, it’s one of those synopses that might be just a tad long, but no matter how many times I read it, I can’t decide which lines I would cut. It’s a synopsis designed to make you want to read the book—and read it I did.

Dixie is one of those characters who, no matter how much she annoyed me at times, I still found myself caring for. I think it’s fair to say she makes horrible decisions. I mean, who moves into the house where their family was slaughtered? Well, Trevor did it in Drawing Blood by Poppy Z. Brite, one of my favorite books of all time—but that’s literally another story, so pretend I didn’t say anything about it. Dixie not only moves into this house, she ends her relationship to do it, and then starts decorating the house to make it look the way it did when her family was butchered. I think sanity is the least of her worries.

Dixie’s descent into an almost fugue-like state of madness is so gorgeously written that at no point was I able to look away or pretend that what I was reading was anything other than the story of a woman slowly coming apart, obsessing over her family’s horrific deaths. She was so lost in the minutiae of what happened that she—like me—didn’t really see the truth before it slammed into her face. I can only hope that now that she’s discovered the truth and faced it head-on, she’ll truly heal and be able to put the past—and her family—behind her.

Favorite Fictional Character --- David Rose & Patrick Brewer

 

It’s February, the month of love, so to celebrate Cupid and all of his shenanigans, I’m going to be shining a spotlight on some of my favorite couples.

But first, I’m going to whine for a moment. Loudly. The flu strain going around right now is absolutely nothing to play with. It’s been days since my fever finally broke, and I’m still not feeling like myself, which is why I’ve been mostly MIA online the last few weeks. I am more than ready to feel normal again. I’m also incredibly grateful I got my flu shot in October, because I honestly can’t imagine how miserable I’d be without it.

Okay. Whining over.

Let’s get back to why we’re here: my favorite couples of all time. Last February, the Facebook page ran a tournament dedicated to these special pairings, and David Rose & Patrick Brewer walked away with the title of favorite fictional couple of all time.

And really, how could they not?

David & Patrick are the heart and soul of Schitt’s Creek. From the public, tear-inducing serenades to one of the most adorable hiking proposals ever put on screen, they are pure relationship goals. They support and complement each other perfectly. Where one is weak, the other is strong. Where one is scattered, the other is solid. They are each other’s home—something many of us spend a lifetime searching for.

Watching David and Patrick feels like a reminder that the right person doesn’t fix you—they meet you where you are and walk beside you anyway. That kind of love is rare, and it’s one I’ll happily believe in every time.

What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher

 

Synopsis From Dust Jacket:

When Alex Easton, a retired soldier, receives word that their childhood friend Madeline Usher is dying, they race to the ancestral home of the Ushers in the remote countryside of Ruritania.

What they find there is a nightmare of fungal growths and possessed wildlife, surrounding a dark, pulsing lake. Madeline sleepwalks and speaks in strange voices at night, and her brother, Roderick, is consumed by a mysterious malady of the nerves. 

Aided by a redoubtable British mycologist and a baffled American doctor, Alex must unravel the secret of the House of Usher before it consumes them all. 

Apparently, despite my intentions to read more of the bazillion unread stories that have been languishing on my shelves, some for years, I’ve been more inclined to pick up old favorites. Visiting old friends, spending time in their company, has a soothing effect, and with all the chaos engulfing us right now, I need the comfort those old friends can provide.

Alex is one of those characters I can see myself being friends with. I can imagine the two of us in a darkened home library, the fireplace roaring as Alex regales me with tales of their past exploits. There would be a table set with tea, and we would talk late into the night. I just wouldn’t want that library to be in the Ushers’ ancestral home.

What Moves the Dead is a story that burrowed under my skin, flooding my system with its miasmatic spores until I felt as if my lungs were filled with a wiggling fungal infection, one that threatened to turn me into that nightmarish hare on the cover. It’s a story so steeped in mycological nightmares that once I walked through those doors, I felt just as doomed as Madeline and Roderick. Kingfisher’s prose is as enthralling as it is horrific. She weaves a tale I never wanted to end—even if I desperately wanted Alex and their friends out of it.