When I decided I wanted to pursue horror fiction for my MFA, I knew I had to brush-up on what contemporary writers were doing with the genre – not just the classics. I bought a slew of books, including Gwendolyn Kiste’s short story collection And Her Smile Will Untether the Universe. Stories like “All the Red Apples Have Withered to Gray” demonstrated Kiste’s penchant for fantastically surreal horror. Her novella Pretty Marys All in a Row was one of my favorite reads of that year. She won awards for her novels, The Rust Maidens and Reluctant Immortals. I have a feeling she’s going to do it again with her newest work – The Haunting of Velkwood.
The Velkwood Vicinity, named for the suburb named for the first family who moved in, has been abandoned for twenty years. The invisible barrier between what was once a normal, unassuming neighborhood and reality doesn’t let anyone in. So, when a researcher approaches Talitha Velkwood, one of three survivors from that place, and asks her to return… Well, it’s the best option she has. Her life has been a series of disappointments and unfulling jobs. What remains of her once-strong friendship with Brett and Grace has withered over the years to an annual Christmas letter and not much else. The draw to discover what she left behind and the chance to reunite with her sister and mother is stronger than whatever could hold her back. So, she goes in. Velkwood has been waiting, and it may not want to let her go.
Kiste has a way of writing the here-not-here that is uniquely hers and yet reminiscent of fairy tales you heard growing up. Places can exist out of time and space if you find the way to them. People can be cursed. A wish can bring someone back to life. All of these fantastical elements are grounded in the banal reality of a suburb. It helps that characters more easily accept these unrealities than balk and say, “It’s not possible!”
Velkwood as a setting may be one of my favorites from Kiste. It takes one of the best-used tropes in horror–the haunted house–and amplifies it by taking an entire neighborhood. Velkwood, like many suburbs, was built as the American ideal: a place for families to come together and raise their perfect children. The novel then takes its time chipping away at this dream. Behind every cookie-cutter house is a unique family with their own dramas and secrets. The yard may be perfect and the smiles just so, but that hidden darkness oozes. Velkwood is made of eight houses, not all occupied, but all seemingly close. It’s its own type of panopticon as, beyond their own home, everyone seems to know everyone’s business.
This claustrophobic environment is what largely spurs the action in the past. Brett and Talitha make elaborate plans for what their lives will be once they graduate and go to college. Talitha, trapped by her mother’s disappointment and sister’s love, doesn’t hate Velkwood the same way Brett does. The other girl has more reason to, as demonstrated by the bruises and fights everyone pretends not to know about. Grace, the third of their party, doesn’t really want to leave her caring boyfriend and family, but she’s more of a follower. What happened to that fourth friend, the tagalong and sympathy invite…well, that’s better left unsaid. The dreams and hopes of the past are a stark contrast to the reality of the future. In this way, we can see what damage the disappearance of Velkwood wreaked on them.
The novel does an amazing job of taking often used elements (haunted houses, ghosts) and making them seem new and fresh. The rot and ruin that was hidden in Velkwood’s past is made literal in its never-ending present. It’s a fun setting because it’s stuck in a certain moment of time so all the trappings of that era are still present. My best comparison is how, sometimes, when you go home after a long time you expect everything to be the way you left it: the CD that skips will still be in the stereo, a dog-eared book on the nightstand, your mom’s cooking and sister’s smile. Yet, in reality, these things change. In Velkwood, they don’t. Talitha and the others are literally haunted by the past trauma this place has already inflicted. It makes the mental wounds more physical.
The plot, overall, is almost as straightforward as my summary, but it’s Kiste’s execution that elevates it to a higher level. If you take the exploratory elements of Annihilation, some of the symbolism of Poltergeist, and a good sprinkling of Gothic sensibility then it’s familiar. Yet, Kiste throws in little twists and turns here so you never feel quite comfortable or like you know what’s coming. It builds to a destructive conclusion that is full of hard choices. I won’t reveal all of those because the mysteries are worth discovering on your own, but I was satisfied as the novel showed me those hidden truths.
I’ve left off on talking about the characters till the end of this review because I have so much I could say. Although the novel is told only from Talitha’s point of view, she’s the character I felt closest to. Her life hasn’t been what she and Brett dreamed of in their bedrooms, and, in many ways, she’s a ghost. This chance to go back to Velkwood, to find her sister and keep her promise, to discover answers is everything. We can feel the pull to stay in this unreality, even as it unsettles and dares you to. I’ve sometimes commented on how, in closer perspectives, I can be annoyed when characters hide information from the reader that they would already know. Kiste makes it work. Talitha’s trauma and denial about several of the events build those secrets nicely. Most of all, her suppressed romantic feelings and reluctance to embrace them (all tied back to that damn neighborhood), create a unique inner conflict. Readers will want to push her forward but will be left guessing if she’ll move on till the very end.
I won’t be vague though. This is a delightfully queer book. It shows how certain places and people can control and shape our thoughts and desires until they’re their own twisted realities. How those little comments and suspicions and fears can burrow until they become your own. It’s also a really good example of the illusion of freedom, particularly for younger people, and how important having a good support system is for queer people. Maybe it’s also saying that escape is an illusion and we’ll always be haunted by the shadows and traumas of our past, but that moving forward toward happiness is a choice we have to make.
Most of the characters fall into supporting, even if they’re not supportive, and they do fall a little into the background with a few exceptions. Grace’s brothers are quietly terrifying. Talitha’s mother is like the multi-faceted realization that our parents have internal lives and desires of their own, and sometimes that conflicts with ours. Maybe they’re not intentionally out to get us, but it can feel that way. The relationship between Talitha and her sister is bittersweet, but the love is strong. It shows how the older of age gap siblings often parents the younger and that unique responsibility (and fear of failing them) sometimes can’t be outgrown. The other neighbors of Velkwood are interesting to encounter individually but become terrifying as a group.
Overall, I recommend The Haunting of Velkwood to readers who thought they’d left their traumas in the past but still look over their shoulders. This is for people who had a really close friend group when they were teenagers but then drifted apart, and maybe you’re not sure why. It’s for the weird adjacent friend who knows they’re the pity invite, but still wants to be included. If you like haunted houses, have issues with your mother, or have always wondered if life could have gone another direction, then you’ll find some good stuff in here. Readers who want to cry during a horror novel may be moved by the climax. I can safely say this will be one of my favorite reads of 2024 and shouldn’t be missed. Find a copy of Gwendolyn Kiste’s latest today or be haunted by what could have been.
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