Monastery Series 6: a Book Review
The newest installment of Monastery is a packed bag of goodies. It’s nearly impossible to discuss everything that happens in this episode, but I’ll give it my best shot. If you thought the stakes were high before then you best buckle up. We’re about to take a ride on the craziest rollercoaster you can imagine. Let’s begin!
Plot
We pick up right where we left off in the last episode of Monastery – Cassandra helping Francis cover up George Turner’s murder (she should have a business card at this point). As their luck would have it, a group of kids discover the body the very next day. Albert hilariously describes the interview that follows as pointless cameos. Our resident gang correctly assumes that the pair had something to do with it. They narrow down their investigation to probe Francis further with little success.
We also get more insight into Cassandra in this episode as it is her 60th birthday. I am shocked to say that she tugged my heartstrings this time round, especially during the seance at Madam Witch’s. During this experience, we see Cassandra and Albert reuniting at what we assume to be heaven. For those few minutes we as readers see that despite everything, there was – is – some genuine love between the two. I thought this interaction brought yet another layer to their already complex dynamic. It goes without saying that the scene between Pop Dennis and Nana Beth during the same type of experience will bring tears out of anybody.
However, my sympathy for Cassandra doesn’t last long. When she thinks everyone forgot her birthday, our resident grandma gets wasted. This causes her to nearly spill murderous beans at her super awkward surprise party organized by David. Our pointless return as he seemed to invite the most random Monastery residents.
Speaking of David, the poor guy is still stringing Erica along all the while pining for Nicole. Not that he is fully at fault as Erica doesn’t seem to take the hint. Must be hard not to hurt someone’s feelings when you can’t be with the one you love anyway, right? Unsurprisingly, this causes Nicole to finally confront her feelings for David properly, and the two end up having sex. Their dynamic now has more layers than a matryoshka doll since both are in relationships, not to mention the family aspect. Although considering Erica sees everything, we can assume David is newly single and in for a rude awakening.
Fred continues to be the biggest underdog in this episode. As if what happened between his girlfriend and his cousin won’t be enough of a blow, Cassandra also kicks him out of her house. The question of where he’s going to stay now remains a mystery. Perhaps this is an opening for him to leave Monastery once he inevitably finds out about their betrayal? Time will tell.
As for our investigative squad, their main quest is slightly pushed to the background. That is, until Thomas discovers a bloodied toy car. This only brings more questions as to what exactly went down the night Albert died. Their investigation is put to the biggest test yet when Rocky, everyone’s favorite dog, is taken by an unknown assailant. This person threatens the gang to drop everything, or else. The installment ends on quite an anxiety-filled note and I would like to have a word with whoever is responsible. I got my guesses and all I will say for now is that their name rhymes with Dick.
Overall thoughts
The sixth part of Monastery showcases once again what’s so great about this story. We got a mixture of everything – mystery, murder, fear, love, lust, heartbreak, but most of all, family. It’s arguably the biggest theme of the story and this episode showcases it perfectly. The party scene, while quite anxiety-inducing for me, was also hilarious and moved the plot while showing off different dynamics. Although I’m not gonna lie, everything that I was curious about now fades in the light of Rocky’s abduction. This is the turning point of the story for me and I’m just clutching my dog tighter thanking all the gods that I haven’t pissed off some psychopath.
(5 / 5)
More from the author:
1. This episode of Monastery really focuses on the complexities of Cassandra’s character. In one of our previous talks, you mentioned that she is the hero of your story, albeit an extremely flawed one. We get a whole spectrum of emotions from her, from missing Albert to calculating George Turner’s cover-up to helping Francis to kicking out Fred – she is her own one-woman show. I guess what I’m curious about is, what’s your opinion of redemption arcs and is this something that you’re interested in doing with Cassandra or are you happy to keep her deliciously villainous yet human as she is (if you can share, that is)?
A good redemption arc is a hard thing to pull off and I often find that it hinges on convenience more than anything else – we redeem characters after they’ve done unspeakable things simply because we still love and root for them. Nothing necessarily wrong with that, but redemption is not something I think about too much where somebody like Cassandra is concerned – she is who she is, a hero and a villain, a mother and a monster, both deep and shallow, and I am happy to keep her as she is for now without worrying too much about redeeming her.
2. Further to my last question, you have no qualms about writing complex characters who do messed up things, maliciously or not. Have you got to the point writing Monastery where you stopped liking a character you created or stopped rooting for them because of this? Alternatively, have you grown fonder of a character because of how you crafted the story and where they ended up?
Honestly, the nastier the characters get, the more I love them. I get an immense kick out of Thomas blackmailing David or Nicole playing mind games on the boys she likes – those are the scenes I always can’t wait to get out. I never stopped rooting for anyone, but I will say this: when I’m caught up in the moment and the words are flowing out of me, these characters can shock me sometimes. There was an instance in episode 3 in which Aunt Doris made me spit out the words, “You bitch”, as I was writing her dialogue. I couldn’t believe the things she was saying, and I was the one writing them! I live for those little moments.
3. The dinner party scene was chaotic to say the least. Was your intention to make the readers anxious or to make them laugh and reminisce of their own family gatherings (hopefully without a murder revelation)? I got a bit of both, personally.
The dinner party served three big purposes for me: a) it was a bit of a breather after the intense drama of the midseason finale and its aftermath; b) it plays into the satire element of the story, as yes, family gatherings (especially in a small town) are always full of drama; and c) it was a rare opportunity to bring the whole family together, since there’s so many of them and we can’t possibly always have them in the same place at the same time. It was nice to just press pause and dig a little deeper into who they are and what makes them tick, whilst still teasing the readers about the mystery. I’m glad it awakened all those emotions in you!
Bonus question – Rocky is okay, right? Right? *pleading sad face emoji inserted*
Rocky is a series regular. All series regulars are featured in all ten episodes, and there’s four more to go. But then again, one of those regulars has been dead from the start, so…
Imagine this. You’re home alone, waiting for your partner to return, when you hear a knock on your door. You answer it to see a family of five, bundled up against the cold. The father, a kindly older gentleman, explains that he used to live in this house as a boy. And he would love to show it to his family.
Do not let them in.
The story
Released in June 2024, We Used To Live Here is author Marcus Kliewer’s debut novel. It tells the story of Eve, who just purchased a beautiful house with her partner, Charlie. Their plan is to flip the house and sell it.
One night, while waiting for Charlie to come home, Eve is surprised by a knock at the door. It’s a man named Thomas Faust and his family.
Thomas explains that he grew up in the house and hasn’t been in the area in years. Would Eve let them in so that he can show the home to his children?
Against her better judgment, Eve lets them in. She regrets this almost at once when Thomas’s daughter vanishes somewhere into the house.
What worked
I always appreciate a book that allows you to play along with the mystery. And this book does that better than just about any other I’ve seen.
Pay close attention to the chapters, to the words that aren’t there. To everything about this novel.
This is mostly down to Kliewer. This is ultimately his work of art. But the production value is also fantastic. I don’t want to ruin the multiple mysteries, so I’ll just say this. There are clues in this book that require some specific artistic choices in the page layouts in this book. And I loved that.
If you’d like to experience another horror book review, check out this one.
We Used To Live Here is also the kind of story that makes you question everything right along with the main character, Eve. Eve is a great main character. But she might be an unreliable narrator. She might be experiencing every single horror described, exactly as it’s described. Or, she might be having a psychotic breakdown. Through most of the book, we can’t be sure. And that is so much fun.
Finally, the weather plays a large part in this story. There are several stories in which the weather or the land itself could be considered a character. Even an antagonist. This is certainly one. The winter storm is the thing that traps the family in the house with Eve. It also makes escaping the home difficult. Reading this book during the winter was especially impactful. Most of us know what it feels like to be shut in by a storm. I’ve personally lived through some of those storms that are just referred to by their year, as though they were impactful enough to claim the whole 365 days for themself. And that was with people I liked. Imagine what it would feel like with strangers. It’s a staggering thought and one that we explore in depth in this book.
In the end, We Used To Live Here is a fantastic book. It’s the sort of story that sneaks into your brain and puts down roots. And if this is just the first book we’re getting from Kliewer, I can’t wait to see what else he comes up with.
(5 / 5)
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?
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.
For more like this, check out my review of Shiny Happy People.
(5 / 5)
Boreal: an Anthology of Taiga Horror is a collection of twenty-two haunting tales that dwell in the deepest darkest woods and frozen wastelands, edited by Katherine Silva and including Haunted MTL’s very own Daphne Fauber. Each story has even been gifted with its very own poster, hinting at the horrors to be found within it, bestowing a beautiful visual collection as well.
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.