Women in Horror Month: Horror Hoser presents The Quintessentially Quebec Horror of Caitlin Marceau’s Palimpsest

 

The Quintessentially Quebec Horror of Caitlin Marceau’s Palimpsest

Caitlin Marceau’s debut collection, Palimpsest, contains much of the Quebec-based writer’s best short fiction work from the past decade. From stories of haunted canals in Montreal, to culty Quebec small towns, Marceau has created something truly special in Palimpsest.

Location and geography are a massive part of this collection. In “Run”, the collection’s opening story, we get narratives from multiple time periods, all using the same bridge in Montreal. Montreal has always been one of my favourite cities—growing up, it was the closest metropolis, and no, Ottawa doesn’t count—and reading Marceau’s descriptions of the city instantly brought me back. And this might be Marceau’s strongest talent as writer: she can transport the reader immediately into her created worlds so vividly we can suspend our disbelief instantly, and accept what horrors may come. 


In addition to “Run”, another highlight to this collection was the other bookend, “Centre Ice”, about a culty small Quebec town. It’s tough not to say much more about this story without spoiling it, but it certainly gave me heavy “The Lottery” vibes. Again, the setting of this story is so rural Eastern-Canada, with the hockey rink being the focal point of the town, and cushy job for teens being running the concession stand at the rink (which every rink has). 


Palimpsest is a strong debut collection, and I look forward to seeing what works of terror Marceau has to deliver in the future. 


Purchase Link – https://ghostorchidpress.square.site/product/palimpsest-by-caitlin-marceau-paperback-/6 

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 kids crushed like toothpaste tubes between swing bridges while Smoke Meat smells waft overhead. 

Review By Ian A. Bain

Twitter: @bainwrites 

I received a paperback copy from the publisher for review consideration

 
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Women in Horror Month: A Review of “Mestiza Blood” by V. Castro