Caitlin R. Kiernan, Daughter of Hounds (Roc, 2007)
In the acknowledgements to this, Caitlin R. Kiernan's fifth novel, the author indicates that novels "never come easily" to her, and that the two years of writing Daughter of Hounds were two of the most difficult years she has ever experienced. I must admit to conflicted feelings on that score: while I wouldn't wish hardship on anyone, if the hardship resulted in a novel that is as sure-handed and seemingly confident as this, maybe then the hardship is just what the doctor (or the Muse) ordered.
Daughter of Hounds is a direct sequel to an earlier Kiernan novel, Low Red Moon. (It is also apparently connected with her novel Threshold, which I have not read.) Low Red Moon involved Deacon Silvey and his pregnant wife, Chance; in Daughter of Hounds, we learn what has become of their child. Emmie Silvey is eight years old, but a rather mature-for-her-age eight, and her dreams are filled with visions of terrifying creatures and events. One day she travels by train to visit her step-mother in New York City, where she meets a disturbing stranger, a woman named Saben White. (It is not necessary that one read the preceding novels before this one, although the backstory is more resonant if one has at least read Low Red Moon.)
Meanwhile, another young woman -- a brutal assassin-type named Soldier -- is having dark adventures of her own as she strives to escape the world of demons and ghouls where she has grown up. Their storylines proceed apart from one another for quite some time, but it quickly becomes clear that both tales will intersect, and that when they do, the result will likely be violent and disturbing. I don't want to say too much more about the plot than that, since this is one of those books where the story's twists and turns are truly best encountered "cold." Suffice it to say that revelations toward the end of the book involving Soldier's parentage were both surprising and satisfying, which is the way all such revelations should be.
Kiernan's writing is what really makes the book special. Her debt to H.P. Lovecraft is obvious, but while reading it, I actually felt less of a Lovecraftian vibe than the sense of a kind of literary mash-up. At one point I decided that the book is best described as "What if John Bellairs had written Pulp Fiction?" (And sure enough, Kiernan actually references one of Bellairs' books later on.) Erudite discussions and entrancing descriptions (such as describing worn gravestones as marking the resting places of people so long forgotten that not even their tombstones know who they are anymore) intertwine with snappy, punchy dialog that is as often as not laced with Tarantino-esque rhythmic profanity. All of this adds up to a pretty explosive and captivating read.
Daughter of Hounds is highly recommended.
