I got this recommendation off of reddit horrorlit page and I must say I wasn’t disappointed. Holy hell, what did I just read?

A provocative and unforgettable debut that is both a blood-soaked love letter to Los Angeles and a gleeful send-up to iconic horror villains, Maeve Fly will thrill fans of slashers and the macabre.

I would say it’s a perfect read for Halloween.

“I love Halloween because all the time, everyone wears masks. But one night a year, they do it openly. The dark and forbidden things they wish to be but deny themselves, on Halloween they don’t. On Halloween, they embrace it, all of it. The hidden parts of the world are exposed, if only for one night. And those things that are truly dark are a little less alone

It’s a story about a woman that’s not sad. A woman that doesn’t have a sad background. A woman not using men to get ahead. It’s almost like this book was written by Margaret Atwood but instead of a deep-dive into the woman psyche, we have a psychopath on the loose.

I have never understood, and still do not understand the notion that a woman must first endure a victimhood of some sort—abandonment, abuse, oppression of the patriarchy—to be monstrous. Men have always been permitted in fiction and in life to simply be what they are, no matter how dark or terrifying that might be. But with a woman, we expect an answer, a reason. But why would she do it? Why, why, why?

I didn’t think I would read a book about a theme park (*cough* Disneyworld) employee who plays an ice queen with magical powers that has a younger sister (*cough* Elsa) who is also a serial killer. It’s like American Psycho but peppered with gore and a somewhat unreliable narrator who has a secret desire like Dexter. I loved the book and I think once I started to read it, I couldn’t put it down. She’s untethered. She’s restless and listens to a call to a life unbound by societal constraints. She’s much of the force working against the perfect domestic protagonist couple of her sister and brother-in-law.

Maeve is an avid reader. She loves books (especially Story of the Eye by Georges Bataille) and she spends her time going from bar to bar, trying new personalities (mostly based off of her favourite authors) and is an absolute fan of her job. But not a Disney Adult. She likes the masking, the costume, the pretend game.

It all goes haywire when she meets her best friend’s brother, Gideon, and falls in lust with him and his quarterback physique and his highly educated profile.

The book is definitely NSFW and there has to be a trigger warning for rape, murder, bludgeoning, disfigurement, disembowelment and stalking.

She kills her nana’s (or is it mother’s) healthcare worker because she suggest she should be put in a home as her end is near. She kills her coworkers (Liz and her boss) after she gets fired. She hated Liz but also respected her – mostly because every villain needs an antagonist, and Liz was it.

Liz loves the park. Liz loves the park more than any place on earth. Her dream is to get engaged in matching mouse ears with a park-loving husband-to-be, to marry in Cinderella’s castle, spend a magical night botching her purity, discarding it swiftly in the coveted castle suite in the East Coast park which she will never be able to reserve. The whole of her room in her shared, white-carpeted apartment is full of park paraphernalia, her daily breakfast mouse-shaped donuts. She watches cartoons on repeat, especially the old ones. She has not masturbated, ever, as she is saving herself for a Ben or Jake or Paul who will undoubtedly be a virgin himself. Maybe not Jake. Jakes are sometimes fucks. I don’t know. I’m riffing. I want another bump before we have to go back on shift.

On top of that, Maeve is a true Los Angeles dweller. She’s insane.

There are many definitions of insanity in this world. One could argue that spooning a man’s eyeball out of the socket and performing carnal acts of religious desecration with it is insanity—we will revisit this later—and perhaps you’d be right, but I would argue that true insanity is far simpler than that. True insanity is driving in Los Angeles. There is no rhyme or reason to it, no code of conduct or set speed. Half the drivers are pretending to star in a drag racing movie, and the other half are driving a quarter the limit. Simply leaving the house for a gas station run can be treacherous. And the rage, the rage of all the drivers. Especially toward me. I smile and drink it all in.

I liked how the author presented the hard work it takes to be in movies in an industry that spits people out after chewing them for years. The years of unrelenting ambition it takes to go all the way to the top, sleeping with producers, directors, anyone who’s able to get them a role. Maeve is not as ambitious as Kate – her best friend. And she’s overly protective of her, preventing her from getting roofied by one of her current beaus.

Moving to a new place to start a new life is a compelling one, and this city in particular encourages us to try on these identities, to inhabit someone new. And it’s often difficult to know what we truly want to be. So many ghosts and legends here to possess us. After a while, it’s easy to lose oneself to it. To become more an extension of the city than a singular mind and self.

“Beauty always brings destruction.”

But a person like Maeve, quirky, psychotic and lethal, is quite likeable too. Even when she was doing her worst (and it’s pretty graphic), you kinda ignore it and wait for the next witty remark to come out.

This city creates the culture for the world. Also, just on an etymological level, everything humans touch is culture. Towns in bumfuck nowhere with populations under a hundred people have culture. Human life is human culture, and people who feel that the existence of one type is of greater value than another frankly seem to be the most uncultured of all.

Oh, and don’t read this book if you like eggs

The novella begins with Simone, a distant relative and sexual partner of the narrator, dipping her pussy into a saucer of milk. The book has much to do with eggs and, as I said, piss, a bit of psychological torture, and finally culminates in a threesome-turned-murder of a Spanish priest and the insertion of his eyeball into Simone’s …

For Maeve, this is not enough, and she fantasises to be Simone, to have an egg and to insert it in places (NSFW).

Life and all its choices and lack of choices propelling us forward, holding us still. I want to lie in the dark here forever, suspended and out of time. I want to stop wanting for so much I cannot have. For things to stop moving forward and spinning away from me with such violent indifference.

Also – trigger warning for gross behaviour. And the return of the eyeballs and eggs references. The theme at least is consistent.

I shove the cocaine spoon up his nose until I feel it hit cartilage or bone and his head knocks back and blood sprays out over my hand. He cries out again and then slumps forward.
I bend down and tongue the socket of his eyeball.

About the Author

CJ LEEDE is a horror writer, distance hiker, and Trekkie. She has an MFA in creative writing from Columbia University and a BA from NYU’s Gallatin School, where she studied mythology and the Middle Ages. When she’s not driving around the country, she can be found in LA with her boyfriend and four rescue dogs. Alongside Maeve Fly, Leede has two more horror novels coming from Tor Nightfire. You can sign up for email updates here.