Scan barcode
A review by writersreads
Evil Roots: Killer Tales of the Botanical Gothic by Daisy Butcher
3.0
‘It has been my aim and endeavour to resuscitate the animal in the plant.’ – Carnivorine, by Lucy H. Hooper
A curious and vibrant collection. I chose it simply to dip a toe into an unexplored genre, and I’ve re-emerged from it well-soaked. Some of the authors in this book I’d heard of – or at least had their names recommended to me before – but their stories were all new.
Somewhat strangely, it took me back to the first time I watched Jumanji. Specifically, the scene with the carnivorous plants: their poison thorns, tightening vines, and those fleshy green mouths … they terrified me. And the stories in this collection plucked at very similar threads (or vines, should I say). Some were gruesome, others quieter and more disturbing, and all together proved just how worthy the plant kingdom is of a place on horror’s shelves. I was even left a little distrustful of my own houseplants after reading it … checking previously familiar leaves hadn’t become Devil’s Snare in the night.
I was surprised just how many stories fit into this little book – it was filled to the brim of its pot. Each one began with a short introduction by Daisy Butcher, which acted like a guiding candle, held up, but I’d recommend reading them afterwards. I found it far more exciting to step in blind. Between each of those was a line-drawn picture of a toothy plant or ominous plume, which were a nice touch too – and I suspect an intended one, as it made the book seem like a much older book than it is. A crisp paperback set between dusty, leather-bound tomes.
Of all its differing branches and fresh voices, three titles stood out to me:
The first was The Giant Wisteria (Charlotte Perkins Gilman), with its bouncy dialogue and dark undertones. It made me smile, more than anything, and I found it to be a sunny breath between the heavier stories either side it – with their blood-thick heat.
The next was The Ash Tree (M. R. James), which was one of the few that gave me physical chills. Its tension built so effectively, and its eventual twist turned not only the expected but my stomach as well.
Lastly, and I think most notable of all, was The Voice in the Night (William Hope Hodgson). It had the perfect blend of ambiguity and boldness. Its scenes wove in between each other and rolled like the seas it was set upon. Its prose was dreamlike and eerie, and its imagery was striking and original. It left its mark on my mind, as it did its unfortunate characters’ skin … A favourite out of the fourteen, for sure.
I’d recommend this book to anyone with a fondness for plants and horror, or, like me, just looking to freshen their tastes and stir some fertiliser between their literary comfort zones.
A curious and vibrant collection. I chose it simply to dip a toe into an unexplored genre, and I’ve re-emerged from it well-soaked. Some of the authors in this book I’d heard of – or at least had their names recommended to me before – but their stories were all new.
Somewhat strangely, it took me back to the first time I watched Jumanji. Specifically, the scene with the carnivorous plants: their poison thorns, tightening vines, and those fleshy green mouths … they terrified me. And the stories in this collection plucked at very similar threads (or vines, should I say). Some were gruesome, others quieter and more disturbing, and all together proved just how worthy the plant kingdom is of a place on horror’s shelves. I was even left a little distrustful of my own houseplants after reading it … checking previously familiar leaves hadn’t become Devil’s Snare in the night.
I was surprised just how many stories fit into this little book – it was filled to the brim of its pot. Each one began with a short introduction by Daisy Butcher, which acted like a guiding candle, held up, but I’d recommend reading them afterwards. I found it far more exciting to step in blind. Between each of those was a line-drawn picture of a toothy plant or ominous plume, which were a nice touch too – and I suspect an intended one, as it made the book seem like a much older book than it is. A crisp paperback set between dusty, leather-bound tomes.
Of all its differing branches and fresh voices, three titles stood out to me:
The first was The Giant Wisteria (Charlotte Perkins Gilman), with its bouncy dialogue and dark undertones. It made me smile, more than anything, and I found it to be a sunny breath between the heavier stories either side it – with their blood-thick heat.
The next was The Ash Tree (M. R. James), which was one of the few that gave me physical chills. Its tension built so effectively, and its eventual twist turned not only the expected but my stomach as well.
Lastly, and I think most notable of all, was The Voice in the Night (William Hope Hodgson). It had the perfect blend of ambiguity and boldness. Its scenes wove in between each other and rolled like the seas it was set upon. Its prose was dreamlike and eerie, and its imagery was striking and original. It left its mark on my mind, as it did its unfortunate characters’ skin … A favourite out of the fourteen, for sure.
I’d recommend this book to anyone with a fondness for plants and horror, or, like me, just looking to freshen their tastes and stir some fertiliser between their literary comfort zones.