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A review by juliwi
Weep, Woman, Weep by Maria DeBlassie
4.0
Horror and folklore go together so well. Just look at how Midsommar (2019) mingles shattering grief with a "folksy" festival, or how Carmen Maria Machado employs it in her stories in Her Body and Other Parties, specifically in 'The Husband Stitch'! The stories that are told from generation to generation always carry a specific trauma and I adore it when authors explore that to the extent that DeBlassie does in Weep, Woman, Weep. Thanks to BooksGoSocial and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I love the scary side of folklore, the dead women that haunt particular bends in rivers, the little lights hat confuse your path in the woods, the stones that call you and then entrap you. I'm about it, especially because Northern European folklore is full of them. But there is so much more to explore, so many other cultures full of the scary and the awe-inspiring. And that brings me to Weep, Woman, Weep, a Horror novella that doesn't so much put a spin on the La Llorona tale, but rather draws it to a conclusion. La Llorona, or the 'Weeping Woman', is a big part of Latin American folklore and has become so well-known that Hollywood tried to incorporate her into their Conjuring franchise. As is natural with folklore, there are a variety of stories about her, but central elements remain the white dress, the midnight wailing, the drowning of children and women, and the crushing weight of the patriarchy. All these come to play in Weep, Woman, Weep, where crying is dangerous, openly expressing sadness is dangerous, and where men and their desires and expectations are dangerous. The content warnings in the blurb should be taken into account, as DeBlassie does not pull her punches when it comes to the horror. But thankfully she also doesn't shy away from beauty, magic and the slow journey of healing.
Mercy's life is marked by the sorrow of those around her and the growing sorrow within herself. The women of her town carry their sorrow wherever they go, especially once La Llorona has baptized them in her river. Sometimes it seems that the only way to survive is to give in, to let her drag you down into the watery depths and emerge wet-haired and red-eyed. Mercy has lost her friend to La Llorona, but she is determined she won't be dragged down herself. You see, Mercy is a fighter. Not in the traditional, almost cliché, way, where everything becomes a battle and heroism is worn like a cape. Instead, Mercy takes one step after another, moves forward without looking up; survives day by day, letting time pass and her flowers grow. It is a seemingly small act of rebellion and yet it feels epic. Through sumptuous language, a casual yet sharp tone, a down-to-earthness that belies the magic, Weep, Woman, Weep tells of recovery, of restraint, of the difficulty of opening up, and of the beauty of a fulfilling life.
DeBlassie almost seamlessly weaves a whole set of heavy themes into her story without interrupting its flow. Despite the horrors it describes, Weep, Woman, Weep never loses faith in its own main character. It never undercuts her power, even when she is at her lowest. Mercy's journey throughout the novella is one that utterly gripped me as I accompanied her from her teenage years to solid middle-age. DeBlassie shapes her growth well, the way in which the world moves around her but she doesn't let its movements affect her core. There is loneliness there, but also beauty, a balance I believe is at the core of good horror. Magic is something elemental in Weep, Woman, Weep, not in that it is linked to the elements, although it is, but that it is something normal in Mercy's life. She speaks to her plants, just like her mother buried protection charms. I loved how DeBlassie balanced the inheritance of trauma with this inheritance of skill and understanding. I can't wait to read more by Maria DeBlasie!
I raced through Weep, Woman, Weep, engrossed by Mercy's story and fascinated by the folklore and details that DeBlassie weaves throughout her story.
URL: https://universeinwords.blogspot.com/2021/11/review-weep-woman-weep-by-maria-deblasie.html
I love the scary side of folklore, the dead women that haunt particular bends in rivers, the little lights hat confuse your path in the woods, the stones that call you and then entrap you. I'm about it, especially because Northern European folklore is full of them. But there is so much more to explore, so many other cultures full of the scary and the awe-inspiring. And that brings me to Weep, Woman, Weep, a Horror novella that doesn't so much put a spin on the La Llorona tale, but rather draws it to a conclusion. La Llorona, or the 'Weeping Woman', is a big part of Latin American folklore and has become so well-known that Hollywood tried to incorporate her into their Conjuring franchise. As is natural with folklore, there are a variety of stories about her, but central elements remain the white dress, the midnight wailing, the drowning of children and women, and the crushing weight of the patriarchy. All these come to play in Weep, Woman, Weep, where crying is dangerous, openly expressing sadness is dangerous, and where men and their desires and expectations are dangerous. The content warnings in the blurb should be taken into account, as DeBlassie does not pull her punches when it comes to the horror. But thankfully she also doesn't shy away from beauty, magic and the slow journey of healing.
Mercy's life is marked by the sorrow of those around her and the growing sorrow within herself. The women of her town carry their sorrow wherever they go, especially once La Llorona has baptized them in her river. Sometimes it seems that the only way to survive is to give in, to let her drag you down into the watery depths and emerge wet-haired and red-eyed. Mercy has lost her friend to La Llorona, but she is determined she won't be dragged down herself. You see, Mercy is a fighter. Not in the traditional, almost cliché, way, where everything becomes a battle and heroism is worn like a cape. Instead, Mercy takes one step after another, moves forward without looking up; survives day by day, letting time pass and her flowers grow. It is a seemingly small act of rebellion and yet it feels epic. Through sumptuous language, a casual yet sharp tone, a down-to-earthness that belies the magic, Weep, Woman, Weep tells of recovery, of restraint, of the difficulty of opening up, and of the beauty of a fulfilling life.
DeBlassie almost seamlessly weaves a whole set of heavy themes into her story without interrupting its flow. Despite the horrors it describes, Weep, Woman, Weep never loses faith in its own main character. It never undercuts her power, even when she is at her lowest. Mercy's journey throughout the novella is one that utterly gripped me as I accompanied her from her teenage years to solid middle-age. DeBlassie shapes her growth well, the way in which the world moves around her but she doesn't let its movements affect her core. There is loneliness there, but also beauty, a balance I believe is at the core of good horror. Magic is something elemental in Weep, Woman, Weep, not in that it is linked to the elements, although it is, but that it is something normal in Mercy's life. She speaks to her plants, just like her mother buried protection charms. I loved how DeBlassie balanced the inheritance of trauma with this inheritance of skill and understanding. I can't wait to read more by Maria DeBlasie!
I raced through Weep, Woman, Weep, engrossed by Mercy's story and fascinated by the folklore and details that DeBlassie weaves throughout her story.
URL: https://universeinwords.blogspot.com/2021/11/review-weep-woman-weep-by-maria-deblasie.html