Reviews of Old and New Stories. Mostly Old

Review of “Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation” by Kristin Kobes Du Mez

A note: The book reviewed below deals with clergy sexual abuse.

The Stuff:

Written by historian Kristin Kobes Du Mez, this book examines Christian nationalism as an alien influence that first invaded and corrupted American evangelical Christianity and now threatens American society and government.

Du Mez points to fear in an uncertain world—the threat of godless Communists and nuclear attack or the dread of god turning away from America because of sexual immorality*—driving conservatives toward a more defensive, warrior stance. The same conservatives saw John Wayne as a hero of masculinity in the post-WWII years. Du Mez quotes Baptist scholar Alan Bean: “The mantra of post-war evangelicalism was simple: Jesus can save your soul; but John Wayne will save your ass.” (p. 59)

I must admit this confused me. John Wayne was an actor. He never served in the military, though he dearly wished to enlist during WWII. No image on a movie screen is going to save anyone’s ass. The best he could do was encourage you to buy war bonds, and that time is long gone.

A journalism instructor I had long ago and far away once told a class that he did a stint for one of the scandal sheets. One of this particular scandal sheet’s favorite things was printing fabricated stories about John Wayne being thrown out of bars. Once in a while, they’d get their wires crossed and print stories of him being thrown out of a bar in, say, Tokyo at the same time he was supposedly thrown out of a bar in, say, Munich. So, John Wayne was a paragon of Christian manly virtues? Hmmmm…

Nevertheless, conservative Christians used the image of cowboy/soldier John Wayne to create an ideal for men to aspire to, even (especially?) if they’d never seen a John Wayne movie. Didn’t anyone stop to think it was all celluloid and mirrors?

Du Mez traces the absorption of these “warrior” and hypermasculine ideas into the evangelical communities, which caused a greater dichotomy between men and women and the marginalization of LGBTQ + communities. She goes further and shows the damage teaching corporal punishment can cause.

In her final chapters, she examines the sexual abuse of young parishioners by clergy and how the church elders are quick to reconcile with the abuser and ostracize the victim. They “rehabilitate” the clergy without requiring the slightest bit of work, change in venue, retreat, or even treatment. And for goodness’ sake, let’s not get the police involved. In one chilling passage, she writes:

Since 1998, around 380 perpetrators [of sexual misconduct, assault, rape, molestation, etc.] within the [Southern Baptist Convention] had left a trail of more than 700 victims. In the wake of these allegations, the leadership of the SBC denied collective culpability, drawing attention to the autonomy afforded local churches within the SBC. Yet the SBC has a record of “removing from fellowship” churches that hired female pastors, even as they appeared unable to discipline known sex offenders. Many victims had been urged to forgive their abusers, and it was victims, rather than predators, who ended up frequently shunned by their churches. (p. 291)

Thoughts:

I found this book difficult to read not because the author’s writing style was unclear or convoluted. On the contrary, the writing is easy to follow and clear throughout. Du Mez seems to like a story with a beginning, middle, and an end. I don’t know if that’s because she’s a historian, but it works. She puts events into context nicely.

However, the events she relates made me so angry I had to take frequent breaks. She does not use inflammatory language. This is definitely not clickbait. The hypermasculine creed produces only conquerors and conquered. A few bastards get rich, but do any learn to treat our fellow humans better?

Salman Rushdie said it best: “Fundamentalism isn’t about religion. It’s about power.”

Du Mez shows this power exercising itself in political forums, in churches that will not discipline or report predatory clergy, and in interpersonal relationships. Men are the head of the family. Much of the literature encourages women to remain dependent first on their fathers, then their husbands.

There is opposition within the Christian and evangelical communities, but these guys are aiming high. I’d like to see at least some of them handed their metaphorical culus come this November.

My fellow Americans, please vote.

*Isn’t that what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah? Not exactly.

Bio: Kristin Kobes Du Mez is an American author and Professor of History at Calvin University in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Her research focuses on the intersection of gender, religion, and politics. She has written for The New York Times, The Washington Post, NBC News, Religion News Service, and Christianity Today. Among her works is A New Gospel for Women: Katharine Bushnell and the Challenge of Christian Feminism (2015). A new book, Live Laugh Love: The Secret History of White Christian Women and the World They Made is forthcoming in September 2026.

A short film dealing with clergy abuse, For Our Daughters (2024), based on the last chapters of Jesus and John Wayne is available on YouTube.

Title: Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation
Author: Kristin Kobes Du Mez
First published: 2020
Length: nonfiction book

From Deep Time: August 17, 2018

Review of “Deerstalking: Contemplating an Old Tradition” by Page Lambert

Review of “Not Your Founding Father” by Nina Sankovitch

The Stuff:

This book presents a biography of a religious leader who took the name Public Universal Friend in the late 18^th century. Jemima Wilkinson, a twenty-three-year-old woman from a Quaker family in Rhode Island, became seriously ill in 1776 during the American Revolution. The Friend said Jemima died and was infused with a new spirit. The risen person no longer answered to the name Jemima but insisted on being called Public Universal Friend, or, more simply, the Friend.

Even in contemporary accounts, people sympathetic to the minister avoided using “she” or “he” in reference to the Friend. The Friend shunned women’s dress of the day for long black robes, scarves, and broad-brimmed hats outdoors. Indoors, the minister went bare-headed like a man.

Consistent with Quaker tradition that welcomed women preachers, the Friend preached. The sermons contained messages of repentance and redemption. The minister required her followers to manumit all their slaves, because God held all human beings equal before him.

The Friend found some wealthy backers. Eventually, the minister established a community in the present-day Finger Lakes District of upstate New York. Here, women—even married women—could hold property, despite the marriage and property laws of the day known as coverture, or what’s the wife’s is the husband’s.

Even if the title to the community’s property was never secure because of dishonest land speculators, resentful community members and former members, author Nina Sankovitch points to the brief time the religious community built around the Friend as something that approximated the ideals of the Revolution more than society at large did. The minister welcomed people of all backgrounds, male and female. Emancipated slaves, native Americans, widows, and orphans were accepted. Natives who did not join the community were still allowed to hunt on community lands.

Thoughts:

One problem the author acknowledges is documentation. The Friend left little writing. Sankovitch posits that people were drawn to the minister more in person than in print. The community dissolved in the 1860s, but even by the time the minister died in 1819, most of the members were in their fifties or older. One scurrilous biography appeared during her lifetime, written by a person who was involved in various land disputes with the Society of Universal Friends.

This biography was an interesting read, but I found myself a little annoyed at times when the author hinted at things to come, almost as if to say, “Stay tuned…” For instance, when things finally look good after a first disastrous year at the new colony in upstate New York, one member, still in Rhode Island, has a dream (an important portent in the group) she takes to mean the Universal Friend’s dream of an Eden in the wilderness is coming true.

“But into every Eden comes a snake,” Sankovitch tells the reader.

True enough, but a bit heavy-handed.

Sankovitch discusses the Sullivan Campaign under George Washington, which removed the Natives living in upstate New York. The justification was that many of the peoples had aligned with the British during the Revolution. The result was a lot of farmland opened to settlers in upstate New York.

Because this is about a religious leader, the reader will hear a lot about the Bible and religion, the day of reckoning, etc. If this is not your thing, you may find the book skippable.

I liked it.

Bio: Nina Sankovitch is a graduate of Tufts University and Harvard Law School, and has worked at many jobs. Her books include the nonfiction American Rebels and The Lowells of Massachusetts and the memoir Tolstoy and the Purple Chair. Her writing has appeared in The New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, and Vogue, and she is a former judge for the Book of the Month Club.

Title: Not Your Founding Father: How a Nonbinary Minister Became America’s Most Radical Revolutionary
Author: Nina Sankovitch
First published: 2026
Length: nonfiction book

Review of “Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter” (1974)

trailer from YouTube

Plot:

A young woman sits in the woods brushing her blond pigtails that looked to me like a wig. She wears a cross and an ankle-length blue dress and white blouse, telling the viewer she’s a late 18^th-century peasant. Her friend Ann (Elizabeth Dear) teases her, then departs to find flowers for her hair. While Ms. Blond looks in her mirror and brushes her hair, she sees a cloaked figure appear over her shoulder.

She turns around. At first, she’s frightened, but then she smiles.

The viewer next sees Dr. Marcus (John Carson) riding through the woods. He sees Ann standing still among the trees and calls out to her. Ann doesn’t respond. He dismounts and realizes she’s staring at Ms. Blond, seated beneath a tree. He rushes to her, only to find her face aged horribly and a trickle of blood running down her lip.

Sadly, this is not the first case of premature aging of a young person the good doctor has seen.

He calls in an old army buddy, Captain Kronos (Horst Janson), who comes riding into town while the opening credits roll. The captain’s saddle blanket is emblazoned with a stylized “K.” Behind him in a horse-drawn cart is Professor Hieronymus Grost (John Cater), a scholar and a hunchback.

On the way, Kronos comes across a pretty woman (Caroline Munro) in the stocks decorated with tomato goo. This is her punishment for dancing on a Sunday. He frees her, breaking the metal locks off with his sword. Uh-huh. Her name is Carla, and she climbs into the cart behind Grost.

Upon reaching town, Grost tells Dr. Marcus he’s dealing with a vampire. Not all vampires drain blood. This vampire drains youth. So, they should be looking for a very young-looking person.

They then discuss methods of dispatching this youth-draining vampire. The traditional stake through the heart might not do. So—hanging? Fire?

Chekhov’s gun?

Thoughts:

Two very good-looking young people show up, the brother and sister duo, Paul (Shane Briant) and Sara (Lois Daine) Durward, the children of the late Lord Hagen Durward (William Hobbs), one of the greatest swordsmen of all time. Dr. Marcus’s treatment for plague failed to save him. Lady Durward (Wanda Ventham) is bedridden, ill, and grieving.

Plus, Sara has a habit of leaving home at odd times on completely legitimate errands. Hmm…

Someone pays the local roughs to attack Kronos. The viewer knows the head bad’un is rotten when he cheats the local working girl. He’s a bad, bad boy. I’ll bet he cheats at golf, too.

Many of the online reviewers like the scene where the bad guys insult Grost and pounce on Kronos, but I found it weird. For one, in the drinking establishment where they rumble, a woman sits at a table blindfolded, sipping a drink. No explanation is offered for her, nor does she appear again. Was she a captive of the bad’uns? Is she taste-testing local wines? Is she recovering from eye surgery? Your guess is as good as mine.

When violence breaks out, the proprietors duck behind the bar, peek out, and duck progressively lower, lending a bit of humor to the scene. It was cute, but not quite believable—as if the rest of the movie were.

There is also a perfectly gratuitous tumble in the hay between Kronos and Carla—quite literally. They’re in a barn. But at least they don’t frighten the horses.

The ending surprised me, and it was full of glorious melodrama. I enjoyed it. The vampire used their ability to hypnotize people to freeze them in place. One unfortunate actress had to stand with her arms outstretched for who knows how long. It was lovely, sublime, and silly, and capped off with a sword fight.

According to Wikipedia and IMDB (one probably got it from the other), this movie was supposed to start a franchise, but didn’t do well. Captain Kronos is given an origin story and a visible physical wound that, to my untrained eye, looks unsurvivable before twentieth-century surgery.

I’ve been poking fun. There is a lot to poke fun at about this movie, but I enjoyed it. I won’t be in a hurry to watch it again, but I liked it.

This movie can be watched here:

Title: Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter (1974)

Director
Brian Clemens…directed by

Writer
Brian Clemens…written by

ProducersBrian Clemens…producer
Albert Fennell…producer

Cast (in credits order)
Horst Janson…Kronos
John Carson…Dr. Marcus
Shane Briant…Paul Durward
Caroline Munro…Carla
John Cater…Grost

Released: 1974
Length: 1 hour, 31 minutes
Rated: R

Review of “Bunny” by Mona Awad

Note: The book reviewed depicts the killing of animals.

Plot:

This horror novel is an absurdist, nightmarish, magical-realistic take on fine arts higher education. And some other stuff.

The reader immediately sympathizes with Samantha, a second-year MFA student at elite—ahem—Warren University somewhere in New England. She remains an outsider in her Workshop program. The four other students, all from affluent backgrounds, form a seemingly impenetrable clique, praising each other’s work and offering malicious/politie critiques of Samantha’s. They group hug and call each other “Bunny.” Samantha has private nicknames for each of them: Vignette, Creepy Doll, the Duchess, and Cupcake.

Ava, who is not a student, is Samantha’s only friend. They met one day when Samantha was sitting watching a swan swim at a park and pretending to write.

Everything changes when Samantha receives an invitation in her mailbox in the form of an origami swan, asking her to join the Bunnies for the “Smut Salon.”

Samantha agonizes about it, but goes. Ava tells her she doesn’t care, though she hates the Bunnies.

And Samantha finds herself in. They braid her hair, and even call her “Bunny.” The writing bunch takes the old writer’s dictum of “kill your darlings” to its logical extreme.

Thoughts:

I enjoyed this book. I am not now nor have I ever been—nor ever been in danger of becoming—an MFA student. They want money for that sort of stuff. But the cliquishness of higher education and the absurdity of writing feedback, I think, are universal experiences. The book exaggerates these aspects to cartoonish proportions, perhaps, but leaves a ring of truth.

At times, it’s difficult to know whether the narrative is dealing in dreams or nightmares or reality. That was actually less important than one might imagine, however.

One plot line I wish had been a little more developed involved Samantha’s thesis advisor, whom she referred to as Lion for his looks. In her first year, they seemed to have flirted a bit. She rode in his car once and went to his house. They didn’t sleep together.

Now, he barely speaks to her. Why? This is never resolved.

The ending indulges in a little revenge fantasy, but it’s hard to begrudge Samantha that after all. She comes to grips with the potential for beauty and horror a writer can create.

As with so many dark, absurdist things, not everyone will enjoy this book. As I was describing some of the plot to my dearly beloved, I told him, “It gets weird here.”

“Oh, now it gets weird?” he asked.

Hmmm… point.

Bio: Mona Awad (b. 1978) is originally from Montreal. Bunny is her second novel. Her writing has appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times, Vogue, McSweeney’s, TIME magazine, Ploughshares, The Walrus, Maisonneuve and elsewhere. Her most recent novel, We Love You, Bunny, is a New York Times bestseller.

Title: Bunny
Author: Mona Awad
First published: 2019
Length: novel

Review of “The Power Worshippers: Inside the Dangerous Rise of Religious Nationalism” by Katherine Stewart

The stuff:

This book describes an investigative journalist’s journey through various aspects of Christian nationalism in the United States and beyond, and the efforts of its adherents to affect, if not undermine, the government and society. Author Katherine Stewart explores the implications regarding civil rights of American citizens and the meaning of American democracy.

“[The religious right] does not seek to add another voice to America’s pluralistic democracy,” Stewart writes, “but to replace the foundation democratic principles and institutions with a state grounded on a particular version of Christianity, answering to what some adherents call a ‘biblical worldview’ that also happens to serve the interests of its plutocratic funders and allied political leaders. The movement is unlikely to realize its most extreme visions, but it has already succeeded in degrading our politics and dividing our nation with religious animus. This is not a ‘culture war.’ It is a political war over the future of democracy.”(p.3)

Stewart recounts attending a “Pastors’ Briefing” in October of 2018 at Unionville Baptist Church in South Carolina. The event was hosted by a group called Watchmen on the Wall, an affiliate of the Family Research Council (FRC).

The purpose of the gathering was not—alas!—to pass on the latest in Bible scholarship or to swap tips on sermons, tending to one’s flocks, community outreach or service, or any such mundane business. According to the promotional materials the author received, the briefings are “focused on shaping public policy and informed civic activism.”

The author refers to the FRC as “one of the most powerful and politically connected Christian nationalist and lobbying groups in America,” which organizes such events through Watchmen on the Wall. The Watchmen on the Wall claim to have 25,000 pastor-members.

The FRC is a non-profit group and technically is not supposed to endorse candidates, but the “briefing” is to coach pastors to encourage church members to vote “biblically.” For example, they should vote for policies and candidates that support restricting access to abortion.

The event epitomizes in many ways the various inroads Christian nationalism is making into government and society the author depicts in the rest of the book. The traditional idea of separation between church and state is blurred and sometimes ignored outright. History is rewritten to describe the United States as a Christian nation at its founding. A theocracy must be “restored.”

Stewart traces many current Christian nationalist ideas to Rousas John (R. J.) Rushdoony (1916-2001), whose parents fled the Armenian genocide. Among Rushdoony’s influences, the author notes the proslavery Presbyterian minister and theologian, Robert Lewis Dabney (1820-1898) from Virginia:

“The beleaguered people to whose cause Dabney rallied were, more precisely, his ‘oppressed’ white brethren of Virginia and neighboring states to the south. Their oppression consisted of, among other things, having to pay taxes to support a ‘pretended education to the brats of black paupers.’” (p.106)

Among the long list of Rushdoony’s contributions to the current right-wing Christian movement is the idea of Christian homeschooling.

Stewart traces Christian nationalist influence in the White House with prayer meetings and Bible studies, into the judiciary system, and down to the local level of “churches” meeting in taxpayer-funded school buildings when those buildings are not in use, for example. She provides a history of the Christian view on abortion, and chillingly, also notes an international right-wing movement among Christians.

Thoughts:

My grandmother worked as a nurse between the two world wars. She was long retired by the time I knew her. She told me about her work, sometimes in ways that were glaringly inappropriate for a seven-year-old’s ears. (Thank you, Grandma, for letting me peek into the adult world.) Things didn’t always go right when babies came into the world, a phenomenon that was a complete mystery to me. “At Protestant hospitals, when things go wrong,” she told me, “they let the baby die. They didn’t ask to be born.” (Could a baby ask for anything?) “At Catholic hospitals, they let the mother die. She was in God’s hands.”

I don’t recall what I thought about this at the time, other than it was another puzzling adult thing. Why should either mother or baby die? I do not know whether this is an accurate reflection of treatment of childbirth complications in the 1920s or so. And, if it needs to be said, my grandmother is unavailable for comment.

Nevertheless, it is frightening to think that maternal and infant deaths are on the rise in the wake of new, restrictive legislation. Stewart has a chapter demonstrating the effects that the new so-called “pro-life” legislation has had on people, even recounting her own experience during a miscarriage.

The strength of the book is in the author’s willingness to go directly (when possible) to the source, interview people, and attend meetings, in addition to conducting the historical research, giving the present a context.

Stewart’s prose is clear and concise, although the text is information-dense. She lets people talk and listens, offering her own thoughts only as conclusions.

The Council for Secular Humanism and the Center for Inquiry awarded its 2020 Morris D. and Selma V. Forkosch Award for the best humanist book of the year to The Power Worshippers. The Religion News Association awarded it its 2021 First Place for Excellence in Nonfiction Books.

Bio: Katherine Stewart is an investigative journalist and author. Her books include Class Mothers (fiction) (2006); The Good News Club (nonfiction) (2012); and New York Times bestselling Money, Lies, and God (nonfiction) (2025). Her articles have appeared in The New Republic, Religion News Service, The Guardian, and other places. She was awarded the 2014 Americans United Person of the Year and the 2024 Freethought Heroine from Freedom From Religion Foundation awards.

Title: The Power Worshippers: Inside the Dangerous Rise of Religious Nationalism
Author: Katherine Stewart
First published: 2019
Length: nonfiction book

Review of “Swamp Thing” (1982)

trailer from YouTube

Back to the traditional Saturday pizza and bad movie nights. The dearly beloved has seen this one, but I had not. Swamp Thing is based on a comic book superhero, which accounts, in part, for the lack of helpless and intellectually challenged maidens and for the cabal of paramilitaries run by an evil overlord.

Plot:

In the opening scenes, one poor guy runs through the swamps somewhere in the American Southeast, chased down by guys in military gear. When they catch the poor man, they beat him and threaten him with a snake. Naughty, naughty paramilitaries.

*Fade to black*

Aboard a helicopter flying over the swamps is Alice Cable (Adrienne Barbeau), from the government. She’s here to replace a missing worker on some project.

Once they land and disembark, Charlie (Al Ruban), her guide, introduces her to the project manager, Ritter (Don Knight). Charlie and Ritter argue about something or someone called Arcane. It’s just a rumor. In the meantime, Alice notices a sensor has malfunctioned. She introduces herself to the lead scientist, Dr. Alec Holland (Ray Wise) and his sister, Dr. Linda Holland (Nannette Brown). Alec says he’s trying to develop a plant/animal hybrid, with the animal aggression for survival.

No trouble on the horizon there!

Alec takes Alice on a tour of the swamp to repair the malfunctioning sensor. No sense wasting the trip. He comes on to the pretty girl. It was the sensor the missing worker was trying to fix when he was killed. Hmmm… Either it’s a rather dangerous sensor, or there’s some bad’uns about.

When they return, Charlie and Ritter chew out Alice for distracting Alec. Huh? A loud BANG comes from the lab. They run to find a jubilant Linda. She holds up her discovery: a Day-Glo green goo in a beaker that goes BANG when she splashes it on things. It also spurs rapid plant growth.

Alec is so happy he kisses Alice and sends her into the control room for Ritter. EWWW. Creep.

Nobody is in the control room, but she sees clear footage of Charlie outside as someone shoots and kills him.

Before she can raise the alarm, paramilitaries overrun the facility. Ritter steps forward—but wait! It’s not Ritter. The man rips a face mask off Scooby-Doo style to reveal his true face—ARCANE (Louis Joudan)!

Linda is shot and killed trying to escape. The bastards! Alex tries to hide the green goo, but spills it, igniting a fire in the building and setting himself on fire. He dives into the swamp to try to put the fire out. In the confusion, the paramilitaries seize Alec and Linda’s notebooks, but Alice stashes the last one.

Fire and some bubbles appear near the surface of the water where Alec dived in, trying to douse the flames. He does not reemerge…

Thoughts:

This flick was campy and silly, but it was also a lot of fun. Did it make sense? Not much. The swamp monster (Dick Durock) that arises from having Linda’s green goo explode on him and a dip in the swamp is superhuman, yet he remains Alec Holland, only more so. He’s in love with Alice Cable—oh, awkward—and saves her life several times. Not that she’s ungrateful, but she quite literally shoos him away afterward, because, you know. He’s a swamp monster. Can’t exactly bring him home to Mom.

Much of the dialogue is painful to listen to, but some things shine from amid the drivel. Becoming a swamp monster makes poor Alec something of a philosopher, though his speech is fragmentary. “Much beauty in the swamp, if you only look,” he tells Alice, who doesn’t care for the swamp one bit. She’s already ruined one pair of expensive boots.

When Arcane is menacing Alec at the facility, he tells him, “The best thing for you is not to have been born. The next best thing is for you to die soon,” and notes this is a quote from Nietzsche. You’d expect a bad guy to threaten someone with a Nietzsche quote. Technically, Nietzsche wrote this in his The Birth of Tragedy: “The very best thing for you is totally unreachable: not to have been born, not to exist, to be nothing. The second best thing for you, however, is this — to die soon.” However, he’s quoting a Greek spirit and discussing a sort of philosophy of art.

There’s still the skullduggery of the paramilitaries and the evil Arcane to deal with. Rest assured the bad guys get the comeuppance in suitably gruesome and comic-book style ways, many of them flying into the air from airfoil boats into the swamp, accompanied by appropriate screams. They’re the lucky ones.

Nor is Alice Cable a shrinking violet, so to speak, making mincemeat of men’s delicate areas and getting in bruising fistfights with bad guys.

Though the film is rated PG, several sets of bare boobs show up, both in innocent settings while Alice is taking an alfresco bath and in the decadent headquarters of the evil Arcane. Apparently, the movie version available for DVD is the one intended for Europe.

Swamp Thing was nominated by the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror Films for the 1983 Saturn Award for the Best Horror Film.

It began life as a superhero comic book in 1971, but has since been adapted into a short-lived TV series and an animated series. A movie sequel, The Return of Swamp Thing, was released in 1989.

As for recommendation, I liked it. I realize it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s not something unjustly overlooked by the Motion Picture Academy. Still, with a glass of wine, a nice hot piece of pizza, a like-minded dearly beloved or friend, and a snoozing furball nearby, Swamp Thing could make for an enjoyable evening.

Title: Swamp Thing (1982)

Director
Wes Craven…directed by

Writer
Wes Craven…written by

Producers
Benjamin Melniker…produced by
Michael E. Uslan…produced by

Cast (in credits order)
Louis Jourdan…Arcane
Adrienne Barbeau…Alice Cable
Ray Wise…Dr. Alec Holland
David Hess…Ferret
Nicholas Worth…Bruno

Released: 1982
Length: 1 hour, 31 minutes

Review of “The Haunting of Paynes Hollow” by Kelley Armstrong

Plot:

Twenty-six-year-old Samantha (but call her Sam) Payne is taking care of her ill mother when her fabulously wealthy grandfather dies. She’s not expecting an inheritance. The family doesn’t speak to her. Years earlier, when she was a child, she saw her father burying a child, a boy who had been pestering her, and reported it to the cops. Her father took his own life before he could be tried for murder. The family believes it was all Sam’s fault. Her father was not the kind of person to harm a child.

At the reading of the will (which her grandfather demanded she attend), she learns that he left her ten million dollars, provided that she stay for one month at Payne’s Hollow, the family property on Lake Ontario, where they used to spend their summers and where all the horror happened. Sam could walk away from the money, but things are tight with her mother.

She agrees. Her aunt Gail goes with her. Aunt Gail, a social worker, has already received her inheritance and has no stake in the Lake Ontario property.

Things get uncomfortable. To ensure that Sam stays on the property, the law firm handling her grandfather’s will requires Sam to wear an ankle monitor. The interior of the cottage is exactly as Sam remembers it from fourteen years earlier, and she cannot change anything for thirty days. She can’t even put new sheets on the beds. ICK

Yeah, it could happen.

The surly caretaker, hired years earlier by Sam’s grandfather, is the older brother of the boy that Sam saw her dad burying.

And then things get weird. Sam doesn’t believe what she sees and hears. Lights under the water of the lake? How can that be? And—and butchered animals left where she’s certain to come across them? It gets all so ICKY.

Sam and Aunt Gail argue one evening. Aunt Gail grabs her arm. Sam pulls away, slips, and bangs her knee on the steps. Early the next morning, Sam wakes up to the screen door banging in the wind. Though her car is still parked outside, Aunt Gail is nowhere to be found.

Thoughts:

The reader is dropped right in the middle of things. Sam questions her grasp on reality at several points. After her father died, she sleepwalked. Is she sleepwalking again? This confusion is palpable and understandable.

The book’s pacing is nice and fast. Poor Sam hardly catches a break. The book is a quick read.

So… why didn’t I like it? I didn’t hate it exactly. I just didn’t buy it. The characters are not believable. While Sam has a rich interior life, she behaves like a character in a book, not like a human being. She makes several plot-convenient poor decisions. The same applies to all the characters. The plot itself is rather, well, plotty.

A headless horseman named Brom (think back to English class and Halloween stories) appears on the opposite side of the state from the one from Sleepy Hollow/Tarrytown. This headless horseman inspired Washington Irving’s tale. Uh-huh.

Some nice reveals show up toward the end of the book, but these weren’t enough to redeem what I saw as the shallowness of the characters. They were the kind of reveals you’d expect in a book or maybe a cartoon. It had the force of watching Fred and Daphne pulling the mask of the bad guy and hearing, “If it hadn’t been for you meddling kids…”

Perhaps I’m being too harsh. Reading gushing reviews makes me wonder if I’m missing something, but I don’t think so.

I regret that while the book has a lot of fun elements and is a quick read, I cannot recommend it.

Title: The Haunting of Payne’s Hollow
Author: Kelley Armstrong
First published: 2025
Length: novel

Review of “Bastard out of Carolina” by Dorothy Allison

A word: The work reviewed contains frank and violent depictions of child molestation and physical abuse.

Plot:

Ruth Anne “Bone” Boatwright comes into the world after her fifteen-year-old mother, Anney, is hurt in a car accident. Anney remains unconscious throughout the delivery but recovers. Granny and Aunt Ruth have tried to smooth things over with little Ruth Anne’s birth certificate, because Anney isn’t married. It doesn’t go well. It’s still stamped “illegitimate.”

The Boatwright clan is close-knit. Bone remarks how safe and comfortable she felt around her myriad aunts, uncles, and cousins. Granny was the only one who would tell her anything about her daddy. She ran him out of town before Bone was born.

Anney marries again, and Bone’s little sister, Reese, is born. Her husband dies in a car accident.

Another man starts paying attention to her at her waitress job. At first, Anney hesitates. She doesn’t want to marry and lose another man.

After two years, they marry while Anney can still look good in a wedding dress.

Something happens to Bone while they’re in the car in the hospital parking lot, while they’re waiting to hear about her mother and the baby. She doesn’t understand; Daddy Glen touches her and himself. She is five years old.

Tragedy strikes. Mama will be coming home without the baby boy. And she won’t have any more.

Thoughts:

The book is a semi-autobiographical portrait of a girl growing up in poverty in 1950s South Carolina. The depictions of abuse are harrowing, but told frankly and with as little sensationalism as possible. Bone doesn’t understand much of what is happening. She understands the beatings, of course, but thinks she has brought them on herself.

Bone knows that her mother, Anney, loves her. Anney also loves Daddy Glen. She knows Daddy Glen beats Bone, but she loves Daddy Glen. She leaves him, but goes back. During the summer, she sends Bone to stay with an aunt who is ill, then another aunt. At a funeral, the signs of Daddy Glen’s beating are discovered, and the uncles beat him hard enough to send him to the hospital.

This love for Bone v. the love for Daddy Glen forms the central conflict of the book. The reader doesn’t doubt Anney loves her daughters. And yet—and yet—

The book’s strength lies in its characterizations. The aunts and uncles are colorful and enjoyable, even if they’re not the people you might invite for dinner. Bone’s mother, grandmother, and various aunts, uncles, and cousins are larger than life and, at the same time, vulnerable and all too human. Most of the uncles have spent time in jail for public intoxication and/or fighting.

The setting is also telling:

“Where I was born—Greenville, South Carolina—smelled like nowhere else I’ve been. Cut wet grass, split green apples, baby shit and beer bottles, cheap makeup and motor oil. Everything was ripe, everything was rotting. Hound dogs butted my calves. People shouted in the distance; crickets boomed in my ears. That country was beautiful, I swear to you, the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Beautiful and terrible.”

The ending is stark and devastating, but it makes sense.

The book won a National Book Award in 1992. It was also adapted into a Showtime Networks Film in 1996.

It’s difficult for me to make a recommendation about Bastard out of Carolina. On the one hand, it is an engaging read told through the eyes of a young girl. It ends when she is about twelve. Her family is warm and loving, but also sad and just a bit crazy. The violence and abuse make for difficult reading.

Bio: Dorothy Allison (1949-2024) grew up in extreme poverty and suffered abuse at the hands of her stepfather. She was the first in her family to finish high school and went on to Florida Presbyterian College (now Eckerd College) on a National Merit Scholarship. She holds a master’s degree in anthropology at the New School for Social Research in New York.

She published collections of poetry and short stories, The Women Who Hate Me (1983, expanded 1991) and Trash (1988). Bastard out of Carolina is her first novel.

Title: Bastard out of Carolina
Author: Dorothy Allison (1949-2024)
First published: 1992
Length: novel

Review of “Reading Lessons” by Carol Atherton

The Stuff:

In this nonfiction work, British teacher Carol Atherton mulls over fourteen books and plays, and one poem she has taught English students over the years. A single chapter, titled with a tagline, is devoted to each work. An afterword discusses additional modern works that could be added to the reading lists.

Some works, like Charles Dickens’s Great Expectations (“On loyalty, empathy, and social mobility”) and Robert Browning’s “My Last Duchess” (“On gender, power and control”), were expected and brought back memories of the days of yore, otherwise known as high school. Others, such as A Kestrel for a Knave (“On learning”) by Barry Hines and Noughts & Crosses (“On seeing things differently”) by Malorie Blackman, I’d never heard of. The last two struck me as more British-centric and less likely to show up in an American curriculum, which, of course, in no way diminishes their value for reading on this side of the Atlantic.

This book is also about being a teacher, particularly an English teacher, and about being a student. Atherton sees the humanities as vulnerable to budget cuts with the current emphasis on STEM subjects. It’s easy to see how important STEM fields are and how training in them will lead to lucrative careers. Her own career is challenging and rewarding.

Thoughts:

I am not now nor have I ever been an English and/or reading teacher. However, I am an inveterate book nerd. And I love conversations with other book nerds. I will read just about anything, even stodgy old English texts. But seriously, this was a lot of fun. An added plus was that the author was open and vulnerable about her own experiences, not only in teaching but in applying to university, for example. It’s almost like you’re talking to a person.

For example, in discussing Macbeth, a play I read in both high school and college and have seen performed several times, Atherton provides an additional dimension by viewing it from Lady Macbeth’s perspective through the lens of childlessness. She is frank about her own struggles with infertility (which, one can safely assume, didn’t involve regicide). This discussion demonstrates the best of what literature can do, IMHO. Even with a play that is so old, so dated, and that I am so familiar with, there is still more to be learned. It can still speak to human experience beyond what its author could have imagined.

I had a lot of fun with this book. I didn’t agree with everything, of course. I will worry when I find someone with whom I do agree on every point. The book A Kestrel for a Knave sounds as depressing as watching Old Yeller or Bambi’s mother get shot or reading Where the Red Fern Grows. Man, just hang a sign that says, “Abandon all hope, ye who love animals.”

This book is not everyone’s cup of tea. By its nature, it tends to center on British works—not that there’s anything wrong with that—and shouldn’t stop anyone outside Great Britain interested in an examination of English-language literature from reading it.

Title: Reading Lessons: An English Teacher’s Love Letter to the Books that Shape Us
Author: Carol Atherton
First published: 2024
Length: nonfiction book