Daniel MillsReseñas

Would pair perfectly with other solid works I'll call "Puritan fiction," such as The Scarlet Letter,The Minister's Black Veil, and Ethan Frome. Not necessarily because of the sinister and cold New England setting (though that is present here, to astonishingly great effect), but because of the themes of guilt, old secrets, and curdled theology that run through these books. Mills steeps the reader in guilt and fear, along with wonder and horror and that sick cold sweat of old sin.

Among the Lilies is a rather singular collection by a writer whose prose style and recurring themes might almost be mistaken for those common to 19th-century weird and horror fiction. Daniel Mills and his protagonists amble in delicate menace through the tangibly-described natural scenery of a New England that no longer quite exists, leaving a tapestry of subtle terror creeping in their wake.

The triumph of this collection is the weight of dread that builds and builds as one progresses through its stories. Mills’s impeccable prose wastes nary a word as he spins his webs of enigmatic fear, entangling readers in mysteries without explanation that somehow reveal the world as a place both inexplicable and horrifying. Readers who appreciate beautiful writing will find much to admire here.

The only jarring note for me in an otherwise seamless collection was the sequencing that placed a story set partly in 1997 after several stories set in what sometimes appears to be and is sometimes explicitly stated to be the mid-to-late 1800s. While the tone of that story, “The Lake,” settled into something that fit the book, its rather more 20th-century themes of boys and bikes and traumatic coming-of-age experiences felt a little at odds with the other stories’ recurring themes of ill, dying, mad, and illicitly—often incestuously—sexual women and the men who are in some way ruined by proximity to such women’s pregnancies, birthings of children, and inevitable deaths. I also could not help feeling a little put off by the collection’s preoccupation with the horrors adjacent to female sexuality and illness—why is it that men must always find such horror in feminine existence?—though Mills certainly does not treat these horrors lightly, and I will add that my distaste and unease in some ways served to make the stories even more frightening, which may well have been the author’s intent.

Ultimately, though I did not always enjoy this collection’s themes, I could not help being swept away by its captivating style and the sheer quality of its sentence-level writing. I imagine I will keep an eye out for other books by Mills, and will recommend this volume to readers in search of something both excellently written and truly frightening.

I received a free digital advance copy of this title from Undertow Publications via Edelweiss+ in exchange for my review.

If you fancy yourself an old soul, someone born several centuries too late, and you are of a dark and rainy disposition, Daniel Mills' debut collection is likely to be your bag, and it should fit as snugly on you as the hangman's rope from the creaking gibbet. Mills transports us back to a time when America was still in its infancy and all the woods bordering New England were pregnant with infernal strangers and shadows that bore physical weight. He writes in the refined style and manner of all the old, dead masters, and he does it so wholly and so thoroughly that you might be convinced that this isn't some homage published three short years ago but a dusty, mold-eaten omnibus of fevered confessions and whispered prayers from the long-ago days of Puritans and putrefaction. His talent is best exemplified in strange and quietly unsettling tales like "John Blake," "MS Found in a Chicago Hotel Room," and "The Wayside Voices," but for this reader the pinnacle of his form comes through in "Whistlers' Gore," a tale told entirely through the cryptic epigraphs chiseled on the faces of gravestones in a crumbling cemetery. It perfectly encapsulates the feeling of reading this book: walking among the bones of the dead, leaning close, and hearing what they have to say.

A young man Henry Feathering who lives in the late 19th century meets and falls in love with Clemency St. James. He was visiting his uncle's home, a house that was in disrepair and an extremely dark place. This was a good novella and I love the Victorian era that it was set in.

***I received this book in exchange for an honest review****

I wanted to love this book. I wanted to SO badly. It began SO brilliantly, and spoke to me of only beautiful, promising things..*sigh* and then left me high and dry in a hole filled with my own disappointment. That was a horrible analogy. I just wish I could be writing a 5 star review right now. Do you SEE that cover!? How could it be anything but amazing? (Yes, this is me 'judging a book by it's cover').

It started off on a high, with beautifully decrepit scenery circa the 1800's Victorian era. I was placed in the most perfect mindset to read about a good haunting; a tale from beyond of a spirit or presence that just won't rest. I was ALMOST given that, and with a dose of romance thrown in for flavour-the connection between Henry and Clemency was sweet and completely uncontrived, considering the swiftness of their courting. I loved their characters. I actually enjoyed all of the characters in this book-especially the mysterious and introverted Uncle, owner of the Bittersweet Lodge.

After the initial intriguing back story about the house and it's "former" occupants-this book took a nosedive into the realm of mediocre. I don't understand-I almost feel as though the author was being rushed near the end, like he was being told to "just write something, anything." I wish I could insert a visual journey of my emotions with this book. I went from a dream-state, to near ecstatic with anticipation, to slumping over in my chair with disappointment. I was waiting for a BANG! For the event that would satisfy the build-up-and then there was none.

In defense of the book however, I was completely clueless to it being a novella until I was a good ways in. I looked down at the page numbers on my Kobo and saw 30 of 78, and went "ah..I see now." If I had been privy to this initially, I MAY have understood the author's subtly in the way he handled the conclusion. Though as it stands, I think this book could have been squeezed for some more juice-it came SO close.

I recommend this book for readers with a respect for ambiguity in conclusions. Not that I am completely without it- I could understand what the author was striving to achieve here. I just prefer my books to have a more straight-forward ending.

Spooky old houses, a strange uncle, ghosts and a grave in unhallowed ground, all things I love in horror novels. I really did enjoy this, it was well written, the narration was very good and easy to follow, while not scarred to be alone at night scary, did have it's moments. If you are a reader though, who like definitive endings, that is not what you get in this book, though their are enough clues to allow the reader to come to their own conclusion. Will definitely read more by this author.