It's kinda funny, considering that I was thinking about how Hendrix's writing is typically so arch and knowing, and here there's barely any humor. Wit, yeah, clever turns of phrase, and a palpable sense of self-aware Fandom (it's clear Hendrix loves slasher movies, maybe in spite of his better judgment); the strongest takeaway I get here, though, is sincerity. He sincerely loves slasher movies; his main here is never less than 75% sincere (there's some caginess, she gives off strong unreliable narrator energy for much of the novel); the novel's subtext is a thick stream just below the surface, friendship and trust and protecting your loved ones and the future, and it's sincere. Hendrix isn't arch, he's self-aware.
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The Ballad of Perilous Graves by Alex Jennings
This really just flat didn't work for me. I thought it was going to something other than it was, I guess. I should have taken a closer...

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A neat little Horror novel (big shock on the genre, there, I'm sure) that plays some interesting games with PTSD and identity, with ma...
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Reading this novel reminded me a good deal of reading Processed Cheese . America Fantastica is more subtle, and the points it's makin...
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Oh, gawds, this novel starts as a bit of a mess and wraps up like someone who read too much Naturalistic fiction and decided to go with no...
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