The First Bird – Greig Beck, 2013.

When a greedy social anthropologist unwittingly carries home a deadly infectious mite from the unexplored reaches of South America’s Gran Chaco Boreal, he launches a world-ending pandemic.

So begins an odd combination of an H. Rider Haggard-style lost world adventure, with a full-on George A. Romero movie. It takes a massive suspension of disbelief to join in this journey, but if you can overlook the two wildly disparate stories, The First Bird is an entertaining read. A little formulaic. A little heavy-handed. But redeemed by some creative ideas.

Hotshot professor and paleolinguist Matt Kearns – a character who appeared in several of Beck’s Alex Hunter novels – and his student-cum-girlfriend Megan have their working vacation cut short by the CDC. Dr. Carla Nero is one of the sole members of the organization who recognizes the dire nature of the skin-sloughing epidemic. With hopes of finding a cure, she strong-arms Matt and Megan into joining a private expedition to the ground-zero source of the parasitic pathogen.

Their ragtag team also includes a millionaire movie maker scoping material for his next big hit, his bodyguard and jungle pro Kurt, his personal physician, a paleobiologist, an entomologist, another linguist and their local Brazilian guide. Many of these folks are clearly on board as redshirts.

The expedition discovers a deadly primal landscape filled with grotesquely evolved creatures. Romantic jealousy blossoms. Action abounds. The body count rises. And then the story abruptly switches genres.

What’s left of the team arrives back in the states to find that the U.S. has spectacularly (in a bad way) deteriorated into an apocalyptic battleground. They must fight their way – with a little military assistance – to the besieged CDC and create and disseminate a cure.

The First Bird sacrifices depth for breadth of story, and one wishes for more detailed characterization as well as greater dimension from both plotlines. That said, the book is a fast paced, interesting read: the different human manifestations of the infestation in the second half of the book are neatly imagined, and the story (ies) race along. Action junkies – and I – will most likely hunt down the second title in the Matt Kearns series, Book of the Dead.

Slade House – David Mitchell, 2015.

It is the last Saturday in October.

You are walking down an oddly-shaped, narrow alley cut off from rest of the city.

Maybe a jogger in black and orange trots by.

You are looking for a gnome-sized iron door set into the brick wall.

Maybe you miss it the first time.

You are a bit of a loner, maybe a bit marginalized, a little bit different from the norm. But there is something special about you that you probably aren’t even aware of.

The iron door opens for you.

You might see a beautiful mansion, staggeringly beautiful gardens, or the Halloween frat party to end all parties. Any of which, if you stop to think, is really impossible to fit behind this wall, in this neighborhood; but you don’t stop to think about that very long, because this is such a wonderful place.

Until you lose your soul.

Because every nine years the – unusual – inhabitants of Slade House need a new soul to feed on.

Slade House is a creepy read, and Mitchell is a virtuoso at playing on – and building – your unease.

From the first character’s shocking story, one knows the awful gist of what will happen to future visitors. With this use of dramatic irony, Mitchell cleverly puts the reader in a similar position to the victims of Slade House, but with an even greater, terrifying awareness of what’s ahead. You want to shout at the characters to warn them, but helplessly, cannot.

And these characters are likeable. You share the common and poignant insecurities of those drawn to Slade House: the oddly awkward tween, the recently divorced cop, the overweight college student. In a short space with an edge of dark humor, Mitchell masterfully gives them all souls, and then horribly takes them away.

This is a lightning book: fast and almost impossible to put down. You are trapped in the narrative of Slade House. And while you can escape at the end of the book, this is one that will haunt you for a long time. Great read.

The End of Temperance Dare: A Novel – Wendy Webb, 2017.

Alone in the world and suffering PTSD from her years as crime reporter, Eleanor Harper is excited to become the new director of Cliffside, a coveted artists’ retreat overlooking the brooding waters of Lake Superior.

Miss Penny, the exiting director and last of the Dare family who once operated Cliffside as a TB sanatorium, briefs Eleanor on her new role and then promptly kills herself. Eleanor is left with a token staff in an empty house, an ominous suicide note, and a mystery that is soon to become a nightmare.

Eleanor’s anxiety increases as she experiences disturbing unnatural phenomena in the house and on the grounds. When the artistic fellows arrive, the alarming incidents escalate. Eleanor discovers that each of the fellows – some knowingly, some unknowingly – holds a clue to a very dark secret.

The End of Temperance Dare is a nicely-plotted blend of gothic horror and country house mystery woven together with a pleasant thread of romance. All of the characters, from Eleanor to young Dr. Nate and the proper housekeeper Harriet, are well-drawn and relatable and just right for their parts in this small cast supernatural drama.

Webb does a skillful job deepening the reader’s tension as danger increases for the household. Using classic elements of a good haunted house story – storms, washed out roads, disembodied children’s voices, bumps in the night, and creepy dolls to list a few – Webb brings the story to an unexpected and genuinely scary climax. This is a delicious read to curl up with on a stormy evening.

Ghosthunting Colorado – Kailyn Lamb, 2016.

I was extremely excited to find this book in our local bookstore. I read paranormal nonfiction like some people eat chocolate: voraciously. I have a boundless curiosity and interest in the subject, and a large personal collection of books in the genre. Having lived in Colorado for thirty-odd years, I have also visited over a dozen of the locations featured in the book.

I’m getting personal and stating all this because I’m about to give a disappointing review when I had been predisposed to absolutely love this book.

Ghosthunting Colorado suffers from a bit from an identity crisis. It is the first I have read (and will probably be the last) in the series America’s Haunted Road Trip. The introduction states that the book’s goal is to provide readers with actual resources to help them visit places that may be haunted.

Sadly, the result is an unexciting book heavy on Colorado history and light on ghosthunting with a sprinkling of travel advice thrown in. The book is organized into regional sections of the state with a map of the area at the beginning of each section. Unfortunately, the haunted locations featured in the book aren’t listed on the maps. Not so helpful to travelers. The end matter of the book contains more useful information: addresses, phone numbers and websites of each haunted site, along with weather tips, driving info, and little bits visitor information about the area.

Let’s think in terms of “glows” and “grows” as elementary school teachers do. (Really. They do.)

Glows:

Lamb’s research into the history of each potentially haunted Colorado location seems solid. Within the text she refers to sources she has contacted for information, and she includes a bibliography at the end.   The research is also extremely detailed. You will get a thorough factual background into each location.  History buffs (like me) will approve of this part. She features a lot of well-known Colorado haunts, like the Stanley Hotel of The Shining fame (read details of my visit to the Stanley).  Lamb also includes Mackey Auditorium on the CU campus, where a young girl was murdered in a room of the west tower. Additionally, she surveys lots of lesser-known haunted locations like Redstone Castle and various sites in Manitou Springs. This is great.

Grows:

The “ghosthunting” part runs a distant second to the history. Some chapters give us the full ghost story behind the haunting (although at times relying heavily on Rocky Mountain Paranormal Research Society investigations). Unfortunately, several chapters reduce the paranormal occurrences to a few dry sentences in a final paragraph or two.

The biggest obstacle to awesomeness, however, and what really drags this book down, is the writing style. It just isn’t interesting. Reading becomes a struggle. The pervasive use of the passive voice is mind-numbing. (Think: “some people have claimed,” “it was determined,” “photographs were compared,” “the elevator has also been seen moving,” “two casinos were opened,” “psychics were brought…”) It makes the history dry and the ghostly bits bland.

When all is said and done, Ghosthunting Colorado provides detailed backgrounds of famous and not-so-famous allegedly haunted Colorado locations and gives you the information you need to visit them yourselves. In those areas, it is a success. For those of us who want a little more enthusiasm in our history and our ghosthunting, it is a disappointment.