Spilt Blood, Split Bone and Broken Nails
I’ve already read horror stories about what it costs to be a prima ballerina. The lengthy hours, the almost anorexic diets, the grueling practice, the ghastly alteration of the human figure. (For a vision of this taken to extremes, try watching the film “Black Swan”.) The ballet claims so much from its participants; you wonder why anybody sane would choose this life if they know in advance what it will demand of them.
Such a dedicated supplicant is Laurence Mesny. Her blackness in a sea of porcelain faces is something she is never allowed to forget. Her struggle to surmount the odds of her dark skin and her increasing frustration with being the target of snide whispers, physical attempts of sabotage (tacks, shards of glass or pins in her toe shoes), the critique and downright bigotry of those who disdain her because her job requires a certain “look”, etc., are situations every minority can understand.
The opening page gives us a glimpse into her psyche and her terrifying determination to gain an edge when she gives herself up to an unseen god of seeming bloodthirstiness. Like many who sell their souls to the devil, Laure literally dives headfirst into the bargain without knowing nor understanding what it will ask of her in return.
The deity Acheron is juxtaposed with Laure so much that it becomes a separate character in itself. At first sinister and frightening, the bloody river turns into a source of mysterious comfort. It seems as if it’s on Laure’s side. It warns that it gives as well as takes and, rather than stealing souls, it takes only what is on offer. It doesn’t demand the sacrifice of others. Although it feeds darker impulses, it can be leashed by the owner’s decision. Laure’s strength and fierce will to succeed is well matched by the god and encouraged by it until she’s not certain where the eldritch being ends and she begins.
The notion of a dark god that fulfills its promises, offers a kind of tenderness, doesn’t rend away souls or destroy lives is an odd and welcome novelty. Laure’s path towards becoming the best turns into a redemption arc, a journey of self-fulfillment and a battle to the death against a fiercer and uglier opponent.
This first novel is breathtaking in its viciousness, its tying ballet with horror and showing the price of success and failure. It’s hard to believe this is a debut effort. The writing is assured, the characters unforgettable and the author’s previous experience as a dancer lend it an undeniable air of authenticity. It also drenches us in bloodshed: accidental, deliberate, inflicted upon others or upon the self. There is so much gore, it’s like a mashup of Clive Barker and “The Red Shoes”; you expect your hands to come away sticky and red after closing the cover.
The trigger warnings (which I usually disdain) are very necessary. This is not a novel from the faint of heart. From the startling scarlet cover with its barely glimpsed skull in the background to its enigmatic end as Laure explores yet another tie to the god, this is a novel to be torn into and ground between the teeth.
Such a dedicated supplicant is Laurence Mesny. Her blackness in a sea of porcelain faces is something she is never allowed to forget. Her struggle to surmount the odds of her dark skin and her increasing frustration with being the target of snide whispers, physical attempts of sabotage (tacks, shards of glass or pins in her toe shoes), the critique and downright bigotry of those who disdain her because her job requires a certain “look”, etc., are situations every minority can understand.
The opening page gives us a glimpse into her psyche and her terrifying determination to gain an edge when she gives herself up to an unseen god of seeming bloodthirstiness. Like many who sell their souls to the devil, Laure literally dives headfirst into the bargain without knowing nor understanding what it will ask of her in return.
The deity Acheron is juxtaposed with Laure so much that it becomes a separate character in itself. At first sinister and frightening, the bloody river turns into a source of mysterious comfort. It seems as if it’s on Laure’s side. It warns that it gives as well as takes and, rather than stealing souls, it takes only what is on offer. It doesn’t demand the sacrifice of others. Although it feeds darker impulses, it can be leashed by the owner’s decision. Laure’s strength and fierce will to succeed is well matched by the god and encouraged by it until she’s not certain where the eldritch being ends and she begins.
The notion of a dark god that fulfills its promises, offers a kind of tenderness, doesn’t rend away souls or destroy lives is an odd and welcome novelty. Laure’s path towards becoming the best turns into a redemption arc, a journey of self-fulfillment and a battle to the death against a fiercer and uglier opponent.
This first novel is breathtaking in its viciousness, its tying ballet with horror and showing the price of success and failure. It’s hard to believe this is a debut effort. The writing is assured, the characters unforgettable and the author’s previous experience as a dancer lend it an undeniable air of authenticity. It also drenches us in bloodshed: accidental, deliberate, inflicted upon others or upon the self. There is so much gore, it’s like a mashup of Clive Barker and “The Red Shoes”; you expect your hands to come away sticky and red after closing the cover.
The trigger warnings (which I usually disdain) are very necessary. This is not a novel from the faint of heart. From the startling scarlet cover with its barely glimpsed skull in the background to its enigmatic end as Laure explores yet another tie to the god, this is a novel to be torn into and ground between the teeth.