Books Read:
The Buffalo Hunter Hunter by Stephen Graham Jones
The Djinn Waits a Thousand Years by Shubnum Khan
A Tramp Abroad by Mark Twain
The last book I read by Stephen Graham Jones was Mongrels. I had mixed feelings about it, but like all of his work, it lingered. Still does. That one was about werewolves. In the The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, Jones brings us vampires.
The imagery is unforgettable. An Indian in dark glasses and a cassock walks into a frontier church in the 1800s. After the service, he remains seated while the nervous pastor hovers, unsure. Finally, the man speaks: he’s here to give his confession. And what a confession it is.
The Only Good Indians was my favorite Stephen Graham Jones novel until now. That book haunted me with its blend of horror, memory, and cultural reckoning. That book was strange and unique. The Buffalo Hunter Hunter is also unique. It’s more intimate. It owes much to Stoker’s classic vampires, but Jones makes his own rules.
The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years by Shubnum Khan echoes classic horror too, though I can’t call it a horror novel outright. It’s haunted, yes, but gently. The house at its center looms large, not just as a setting but as a character, it’s hallways and rooms layered with memory, grief, and secrets. The presence of ghosts and djinn gives it a spectral texture, but the tone is more melancholic than terrifying.
It reminded me of The Haunting of Hill House not only in its mood, but in the prominence of that house. Both novels portray a house can hold sorrow like a sponge, and that the past doesn’t stay buried just because the doors are locked.
For something completely different: A Tramp Abroad by Mark Twain. It’s travel writing, the first travel writing of Twain’s I’ve read excepting an essay or two in high school. He describes his travels in Germany, Switzerland, and Italy in short laugh-out-loud funny pieces. Eventually, SFFaudio will post a podcast that I participated in but contributed little to as Jesse and Cora (who lives in Germany) had much to say. I learned a lot.
There’s something comforting about Twain’s voice. Grumpy, curious, and always a little bit delighted by the absurdity of the world. I could use some more of his attitude.
I enjoyed this a LOT, but my favorite piece of travel writing is still Blue Highways by William Least-Heat Moon.
