Ever wonder what would happen if a witch, a mythological dreamscape, and a kitchen disaster collided at full speed? Jennifer Weigel’s Let’s Do Lunch (Witch Hayzelle’s Recipes for Disaster Book 1) doesn’t just answer that question—it serves it up on a flaming silver platter with a side of snarky humor and alliterative goodness.
This fast-paced, genre-blending novella is part mythological adventure, part obsessive investigation (Moby Dick style), and part cookbook. Yes, you read that right. The book sprinkles in recipes—some of which might be surprisingly edible (looking at you, tofu dish). I think the mix of this worked really well. At times, and this might be because of my background, I thought that the book was pushing into Gargantuan territory and then it slipped back into a real recipe.
Where Let’s Do Lunch really shines is in its world-building. The mythology of dreams is an intriguing and immersive element that keeps the story grounded in a unique and whimsical lore. The characters, while more like vehicles for humor than deep personalities, fit well within the book’s quick and quirky style. There’s also a delightful meta-layer to the storytelling, making it feel self-aware in the best possible way.
Last update on 2025-01-29 / Affiliate links / Images from Amazon Product Advertising API
Another thing that worked really well, even on Kindle, is the art the author produces. The drawings really do make a lot of the book pop and work remarkably well in black and white (or paperwhite, as the case may be). Even the cover is a mix of void space set aside by white–the creation of art through erasure of darkness.
Kindle Caveat:
One small hiccup–if you’re reading the Kindle version, be prepared for footnotes that don’t always play nice with e-readers. They can be tricky to navigate, making it tough to appreciate some of the book’s side notes without breaking the flow. This is something the publisher seems to agree with (as the amazon page has a similar warning).
Overall and Score
Overall, Let’s Do Lunch is a light, fun read perfect for anyone who enjoys their fantasy with a heavy dose of humor and a sprinkle of culinary catastrophe. If the rest of the Recipes for Disaster series keeps up this level of playful mayhem, fans are in for a treat (or at least a hilarious food-related accident).
As a disclaimer, this is a review of The House of My Mother from a critical perspective. I will not be discussing my opinions of the legal case against Ruby Franke and Jody Hildebrandt. I will be discussing the merits of the book as a work of true crime alone.
In 2015, Ruby Franke started a YouTube channel called 8 Passengers. In August of 2023, Franke and her business associate Jodi Hildebrandt were arrested for, and later plead guilty to, charges of aggravated child abuse. And in January of this year, Shari Franke told her story in The House of My Mother.
The story
The House of My Mother is the true story of Shari Franke, the oldest child of one of the most famous family vlogger families.
As a child, Shari came to the conclusion that her mother didn’t like her. Soon, she began to fear her mother’s anger.
Things got significantly worse when Ruby started their family vlog. All of the families most intimate moments were splashed across the internet for anyone to watch. This became a living nightmare for Shari.
Of course, that was only the start of the family nightmare. Because Ruby was about to meet someone who would reinforce all of the darkest parts of herself.
Eventually Shari manages to escape her home. But her younger siblings were still in her mother’s clutches. She had to save them, and her father, from the monster her mother had become.
What worked
Through the book, Shari only ever mentions the name of one of her siblings, Chad. This is because Chad is the only of her siblings that is an adult at the time of the publication.
There are children involved in this story. Children who’s lives and privacy have already been damaged. Shari didn’t want to do that to them again, and neither do I.
It probably won’t surprise you that this book is full of upsetting details. But not in the way you might imagine.
Nowhere in this book will you find gory details about the abuse the Franke kids suffered. And I consider that a good thing. Those sort of details are all fun and games when we’re talking fiction. When it’s real kids who are really living with the damage, it’s not a good time.
What you’ll find instead is a slew of more emotionally devastating moments. One that stuck with me is when Ruby’s mother gives her a pair of silk pajamas as a gift after Ruby gave birth to one of her babies. Shari asks Ruby if she’d bring her silk pajamas when she had a baby. Ruby responds that yes, when Shari becomes a mother they can be friends.
What a lovely way to make a little girl feel like she’s not worth anything unless she reproduces. And, if she does decide to have children, who is going to bring her silk pajamas?
From eldest daughter Shari Franke, the shocking true story behind the viral 8 Passengers family vlog and the hidden abuse she suffered at the hands of her mother, and how, in the face of unimaginable pain, she found freedom and healing
Shari Franke’s childhood was a constant battle for survival
Her mother, Ruby Franke, enforced a severe moral code while maintaining a façade of a picture-perfect family for their wildly popular YouTube channel 8 Passengers, which documented the day-to-day life of raising six children for a staggering 2
Last update on 2025-03-02 / Affiliate links / Images from Amazon Product Advertising API
In the end, this isn’t a story about ghosts or demons. It’s not about a serial killer waiting on a playground or in the attic of an unsuspecting family. Instead, this is a story about things that really keep us up at night. It’s the story of a woman so obsessed with perfection that she drove away her eldest daughter. The story of a young woman who’s forced to watch from afar as her beloved brothers and sisters are terrorized and abandoned. These are the sorts of things that really keep us up at night. These are the real nightmares.
More than that, though, The House of My Mother is a story of survival. It’s about a family that was ripped apart and somehow managed to stitch itself back together again. It’s about a brave young woman who managed to keep herself safe and sane in the face of a nightmare. If you haven’t read it yet, I can’t recommend it enough.
The tales are varied and touch upon the environment in new and different ways, each hearkening to a sort of epiphany or raised awareness. These stories exude both dread and wonder at the smallness of our human existence in contrast to the sacred world we have isolated from, sheltering ourselves in our comfortable houses with centralized heat and everything we could possibly need or want at the ready. The taiga becomes a sanctuary outside of our own dulled awarenesses. It is a holy place imbued with powers beyond mortal human reach, a wilderness that threatens to swallow us – both whole and bit by bit, simultaneously.
The protagonists enter into this realm through ritual, superstition, longing, stubbornness, and their own hubris – yearning to survive its dangers, and to make their own marks upon it. The starkness of their surroundings harbors delicate moments that would be all too easily missed if not deliberately sought or pointed out. The softness of fur, the dappled sunlight shining through trees, the hazy clouds of breath forming in crisp air, the brittleness of bleached bone… those quiet experiences that beg to be forgotten, to lay safely sleeping just below the frozen surface, awaiting spring.
There are those who followed in the footsteps of their predecessors, seeking to escape the constraints of their parent’s and elders’ indoctrination, traditions, madness, and abuse, yearning to find their own way despite also being inextricably bound to their own pasts. There are those who just wanted to go for a walk in the woods, and remained forever changed by what they experienced. There are those who wished to impose their will upon the wilderness, their order falling to disarray, unable to make lasting impact. There are those who sought to leave behind the world of mankind, looking for oneness in the natural order of things through isolation, leaving a bit of themselves behind after being consumed by the terrors they encountered. There are those who truly found communion with the woods, became one with its wildness, and invited its spirit into their hearts to find peace, even at cost of their own lives. And then, there are the spirits themselves…
(3 / 5)
All in all, I give Boreal: an Anthology of Taiga Horror 3.0 Cthulhus. I love existential angst so I found it to be an enjoyable read, and I appreciated the myriad manners in which the biome was explored. But there were points in which I found myself struggling to follow along, as if the words were swept up into their own wilds in ways that alienated myself as reader, as if my mere voyeurism into this otherworldly place was not enough to comprehend the subtle deviations in storytelling mannerisms fully. I suppose in some sense this seems appropriate, but at the same time, it left me feeling a bit unfulfilled, as if I had missed a spiritual connection that should have resonated more deeply.
“All this would be theirs, he said. The gods wanted nothing in return. Only that the marsh-folk – or the valley-folk now – should always remember that they were custodians here.
No.
Servants.”
After the acclaimed Starve Acre and its film adaptation, Andrew Michael Hurley extends his exploration of place with Barrowbeck, a collection of short stories published in October 2024. This new folk horror work charts the unsettling history of a town nestled in a secluded Yorkshire-Lancashire valley. From the first footsteps on its soil to a disquieting glimpse into 2041, Barrowbeck’s 13 tales trace a chilling narrative of time and place, where the past and future intertwine with eerie consequences.
For centuries, the inhabitants of Barrowbeck, a remote valley on the Yorkshire-Lancashire border, have lived uneasily with forces beyond their reckoning
They raise their families, work the land, and do their best to welcome those who come seeking respite
But there is a darkness that runs through the village as persistently as the river
Last update on 2025-02-17 / Affiliate links / Images from Amazon Product Advertising API
The Plot.
The initial, undated story, “First Footing,” sets the stage: a band of survivors, their village destroyed, seek sanctuary guided by their deity, Arfon, along a mysterious river. They eventually discover an untouched valley, destined to become Barrowbeck. Following this are twelve time-stamped tales that chronicle the valley’s unsettling evolution. From the haunting melodies of spectral choirs to the bizarre creation of seed-born babies and a girl possessed by the river’s essence, these stories reveal a place steeped in the strange and uncanny.
Highlights.
Hurley’s signature strength lies in crafting folk horror deeply rooted in place, and Barrowbeck is no exception. The opening chapter’s immersive descriptions of the woods and river establish a rich foundation. This is then meticulously layered upon in each subsequent story. As Barrowbeck evolves, we are drawn into its very fabric, witnessing the gradual emergence of road names, family homesteads, and sacred spaces. The setting itself seems to breathe and expand, mirroring the town’s growth with palpable presence.
Hurley’s skill extends beyond the setting, encompassing the intricate development of Barrowbeck’s people. The collection demonstrates a striking commitment to familial continuity, inviting readers to trace the subtle genealogies woven through recurring names. This depth of world-building adds a compelling layer of realism to the fantastical tales.
An atmospheric and unsettling story of the depths of grief found in an ancient farm in northern England—now a major motion picture starring Matt Smith and Morfydd Clark
The worst thing possible has happened
Richard and Juliette Willoughby’s son, Ewan, has died suddenly at the age of five
Last update on 2025-02-17 / Affiliate links / Images from Amazon Product Advertising API
Drawbacks.
Though billed as folk horror, Barrowbeck leans more towards the fantastical, presenting strange occurrences rather than outright scares. Hurley’s commendable effort to adapt his writing style to each time period creates a strong sense of place. However, this approach backfires in the early chapters, notably the first, which echoes the dense prose of Tolkien’s The Silmarillion. This stylistic choice risks alienating readers seeking a horror experience, potentially leading to early abandonment.
The Final Take.
I hate to say it but I was disappointed in Barrowbeck. After Starve Acre and The Lonely, I had high expectations of Hurley as a folk horror author, but this missed the mark. That being said some of the later stories were at least interesting if only for their strangeness.