@bookstodon My full review of BLACK RIVER ORCHARD, by Chuck Wendig. I've tried not to be too spoilery, but if you like to go into your horror having no idea what to expect, then probably don't read this review, or the jacket copy.
Buckle up, horror fans. This one is a crazy ride!
I've been a fan of Chuck Wendig's work for a while, especially ๐ป๐๐ ๐ฉ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐จ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ and ๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐ . In those novels, it was mostly the story that grabbed me. In Black River Orchard, it's both the story and the fantastic writing. The descriptions just pop with sharp definitive lines.
The book opens with two different prologues from two distinctly different times. Both introductions project a sinister mood, though the atmosphere and events in the second prologue are much more disturbing. In each we gather hints of what probably gives those black-red apples their unusual hue.
After Chapter One, I reflected to myself: ๐๐จ ๐ฉ๐๐๐จ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ก๐ ๐ข๐๐ฃ๐๐ฅ๐ช๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ซ๐? ๐๐จ ๐๐ฉ ๐ฉ๐ง๐ฎ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฉ๐ค ๐๐๐ง๐๐๐ฉ ๐ค๐ช๐ง ๐ฌ๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐จ ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฃ๐๐๐๐จ, ๐ฉ๐ค ๐ข๐๐ ๐ ๐ช๐จ ๐๐ค ๐๐ฉ๐จ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ฃ๐?
By Chapter Two, I realized that if the title is ๐ฉ๐๐๐๐ ๐น๐๐๐๐ ๐ถ๐๐๐๐๐๐ , there must be a river. Oh God, don't let the river become sentient in my mind as well. Yet, it does appear that the river wants things. But, that's silly, right? We chalk it up to anthropomorphism, any excuse like that, when we start ascribing intent and desire to things that cannot think or feel (we hope). The only thing we can be sure of, as one corner of the map of this story unfolds, is that there's something each character isn't telling us.
Most of the characters are very intriguing. Even the ones you can't stand are okay, because you're supposed to find them exasperating. I thought I was going to grind down a molar for my distaste for Meg, controlling power lesbian, until her wife Emily finally stood up to her own fears, which led to standing up for herself occasionally, and I could finally relax my jaw. Plus, meeting Joanie and Graham made getting through Meg and her awful mother Noreeen totally worth it.
Along the way, if you were keeping count, the author does a jam-up job of tackling racism, sexism, classism, transphobia, homophobia, gun culture, weaponized prudishness, book bans, factory farms, online harassment, colonialism, conspicuous consumerism, and secret societies, all within just the first 20% of the book. Wendig also ensures than non-binary, trans, and gay characters aren't simply caricatures. You know you've achieved parity when you get to be a whole person.
This early mark is also the point at which the author subtly reminds the reader to keep track of who, so far, does not eat the special apples. After carefully recalling who does not eat the fruit, we turn our attention to who does, and what stranger things begin happening when they do.
About a third of the way in, Wendig provides another tantalizing clue to the mystery of why these apples are so different, and why they might be affecting people the way they do. I dig the way he lays down these cards carefully, one at a time.
By the way, if you don't care for asides in parentheses, you may be a little irritated with their ubiquity in this novel. Personally, I am a pro-parentheses person, much preferring the aside over footnotes or endnotes. It feels like a series of miniature wrapped gifts from the author to the reader, a little candy trail of clues.
At some point, the story begins to seem a little "Invasion of the Body Snatchery" but that's fine. Honestly, I expected to make that comparison. Frankly, the deeper I went into the story, the more I was hooked. Ironic? Possibly.
The reader may wonder if the author is making a point about cult-like organizations. I think that's abundantly clear. Belonging can make a person feel more powerful, and more important, while they are under the influence of the cult, but the influence turns out to be a kind of poison, both for the cult members and for their friends and family. The thing about cults is they change us, the structure of how we think, how we function, how we move in the world, and how we react to and make decisions, and these effects can easily affect those who are not even in the cult. Any interference may well be met with verbal abuse, and threats of outright violence. Through this story, we discover that revenge is not really sweet, though it is often cold.
In the story, there is a frightening reversal of the Eucharist, in the way in which evil has been voluntarily consumed, and which in turn, consumes the body and blood of its adherents in order to proliferate. Though it goes against their self-interest, even self-preservation, the cult members will sacrifice themselves for their dear leader, who only uses them for his wicked purposes.
Lest we place all the blame squarely on the slippery leader, we should remember that the followers tended to have an open vulnerability or even affinity to the kind of evil they embraced. It was not forced upon them; it settled where it found the right shape of spaces to fit into: gaps in empathy, understanding, and goodwill. This, my friends, is the heart of the story.
I want to thank NetGalley, Penguin Random House, and Del Rey Books for providing an early copy of this novel for review. #Horror#books#BooksWorthReading
