Women in Horror Month: A Review of “Creole Conjure” by Christina Rosso
Creole Conjure by Christina Rosso
When I say that Creole Conjure is, in a word, “interesting,” I feel like people get the impression I’m damning it with faint praise. But make no mistake, y’all, my descriptor isn’t meant to be a kind euphemism in lieu of honest critique. It’s just that “interesting” is the only way I feel I can describe this one with any form of accuracy. Yes, it is good, though to say it’s “good” doesn’t mean a lot because that’s really subjective. But regardless of your taste, and regardless of how much you like this one, you certainly won’t be bored.
I feel like I’m talking around the book, but I don’t know how else to explain it. This is a short story collection that really does embody the vibe of its New Orleans setting. If you haven’t been to New Orleans, this might not make much sense. I’ve been a few times – literally whenever I get the chance, let’s be honest – and there really is something magical about it. But you can always tell a New Orleans native from a tourist, even a seasoned one, because there’s a sort of acceptance of the wild and weird that exudes from those who call New Orleans home.
The characters in this collection are all beautifully messy and complicated, and there are only a rare few characters that can be described as entirely good, but it feels all the more realistic for that. That realism does the book a great service, too, because it makes the magic inherent in each story feel all the more grounded in reality – which is a feat, considering the metaphorical River Styx, known as Honey Island swamp that many of the stories revolve around.
There aren’t really any parts of this collection that get wrapped up in a neat little bow. Some of them don’t feel like they end at all, so much as they cut off and throw you into the next story, as if to say, “Move along, now, this isn’t your business.” Some might call that a bit of a tease, but there’s also something enjoyable about that–not just the eternal wondering at what was to come next, but the feeling that you as a reader are a tourist, peeking into the back alleys of New Orleans and the lives of those who live there.
That’s part of what lends to the feeling of legitimacy in some of these stories, too, I think. The way the stories are woven together, both a bit abrupt and disjointed yet still interconnected, evokes a feeling of community of which most readers are likely going to feel like outsiders. While the writing itself sometimes feels a little simplistic, that also lends itself to the fable-like quality of some of the tales. These characters and their narratives feel like stories that have been told before, in half-formed sentences and understanding nods–if you know, you know.
As it is, I want to know more. And I think y’all will, too.
Rating: B+
Review by Kayla Martin-Gant
Twitter: @poultryofperil
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I received a PDF copy of this book from the publisher for review consideration.