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A review by jyan
Ariadne, I Love You by J. Ashley-Smith
4.0
Longing is a powerful emotion. Though if set upon a backbone of hope, or of anticipation, it can be a glorious whirlwind, without a solid backbone it can fester, becoming something dying, stinking, rotten.
In many ways, Ariadne I Love You, the latest novel from British-Australian writer J. Ashley-Smith, is an exploration of this rotting longing, the story of a man so obsessed with an unrequited love that his once successful, now failing musical career was based around it. For some time, this longing creates numerous opportunities for him, but as is often the case, it eventually eats him whole, until he finds himself in a lowly camper, outside a mysterious forest in the heart of Australia, where something dark is waiting, luring him in, calling to him, desperate to feed on that deep longing within him.
Perhaps what I most appreciate about Ariadne I Love You is how efficient it is with its storytelling. Often, outside of some of my favorite works of the format, I find that writers seem to have difficulties when trying to tell compelling, fleshed-out stories in under 100 pages, but Ashley-Smith has taken the “keep only the bones” approach, seemingly cutting out any fat until only a lean, mean, utterly engrossing sorrow machine is left.
This isn't a book for the gorehounds, or the fast-paced slasher lovers, or those wanting a quick fright before they turn out the light, this is something different entirely. Like so many of my favorite authors, here Ashley-Smith brings us the kind of horrors that more about chilling the blood than spiking the nerves, Ashley-Smith studies horror based inside the human soul, the kind of spirit-crushing horror that nibbles at you in the darkest corners of your psyche, the fear that if just one little thing leans just the wrong way, any of us could start spiraling down a hole of desolation, sorrow, and insanity that we may not be able to find our way out of out.
Sure, the novel takes too long to get to the supernatural, and sure, there were elements that might have hit harder had the novel been fleshed out a little more, and there's a twist at the ending that's a bit strange, but on the whole, Smith has created a tale of creeping dread, of slow-burn sorrow, the kind that studies the darkest parts of humanity that makes works of people like Chad Lutzke or Kathe Koja sing.
Thanks to Netgalley and Meerkat Press for the opportunity to review this work!
In many ways, Ariadne I Love You, the latest novel from British-Australian writer J. Ashley-Smith, is an exploration of this rotting longing, the story of a man so obsessed with an unrequited love that his once successful, now failing musical career was based around it. For some time, this longing creates numerous opportunities for him, but as is often the case, it eventually eats him whole, until he finds himself in a lowly camper, outside a mysterious forest in the heart of Australia, where something dark is waiting, luring him in, calling to him, desperate to feed on that deep longing within him.
Perhaps what I most appreciate about Ariadne I Love You is how efficient it is with its storytelling. Often, outside of some of my favorite works of the format, I find that writers seem to have difficulties when trying to tell compelling, fleshed-out stories in under 100 pages, but Ashley-Smith has taken the “keep only the bones” approach, seemingly cutting out any fat until only a lean, mean, utterly engrossing sorrow machine is left.
This isn't a book for the gorehounds, or the fast-paced slasher lovers, or those wanting a quick fright before they turn out the light, this is something different entirely. Like so many of my favorite authors, here Ashley-Smith brings us the kind of horrors that more about chilling the blood than spiking the nerves, Ashley-Smith studies horror based inside the human soul, the kind of spirit-crushing horror that nibbles at you in the darkest corners of your psyche, the fear that if just one little thing leans just the wrong way, any of us could start spiraling down a hole of desolation, sorrow, and insanity that we may not be able to find our way out of out.
Sure, the novel takes too long to get to the supernatural, and sure, there were elements that might have hit harder had the novel been fleshed out a little more, and there's a twist at the ending that's a bit strange, but on the whole, Smith has created a tale of creeping dread, of slow-burn sorrow, the kind that studies the darkest parts of humanity that makes works of people like Chad Lutzke or Kathe Koja sing.
Thanks to Netgalley and Meerkat Press for the opportunity to review this work!