Synopsis:
Talons is looking for food tasters and Jordan Carter jumped at the chance to join the focus group.
However, the qualifying questions embarrassed him. The first appetizer was a stale piece of bread. And worst of all, Jordan felt sick after the meal.
When Talons offers him double the money for a second tasting, he agrees and shrugs off the illness as a coincidence.
After the second meal, though, he’s convinced something is wrong. Daily nightmares and concerning voices culminate in Jordan vomiting blood. Doctors can find nothing physically wrong with him, and medical tests determine the blood isn’t even his.
Feeling scared and alone, Jordan dives into a rabbit hole of conspiracy theories to unravel Talon’s ancient secret.
Review:
About as palatable as roadkill, “The Little Season,” by S.C Mendes is packed with gristle, grot and “oh god, please no!” There’s cults and crystals, spiritualism and splatter; fine-dining and “focus groups:” it covers all bases (mainly in vomit to be honest). From its brilliant but decidedly freaky cover art (Justicia Satria) all the way to its denouement, “The Little Season,” is a revolting book- and I rather enjoyed it. If you want putting off your dinner, then this one comes out July 4th- thank you Blood Bound Books for sending me an ARC copy.
We follow Jordan. Jordan has rent to pay, a vulnerable mother to care for, and no job- he needs cash, and he needs it fast. Naturally, when an up and coming restaurant offers him $600 to partake in a food-tasting focus group… he’s more than happy to oblige. He arrives, is briefly interviewed, and then indulges in a delicious salmon dish. Sounds neat?
Well, that night he has a rather unsettling dream (huge content warning for… most things really) and wakes up vomiting blood.
The doctors can find nothing physically wrong with him, aside from perhaps an ulcer, and assure him that salmon just doesn’t agree with him. Of course, he considers that his food-tasting gig may be too good to be true, but when he’s invited back for another course (for double the pay) he can’t help himself. The cash is ideal, the food was tasty, the people were a little odd, but still… he’d be a fool to say no. Right?
The most common criticism I’ve seen of this book is that it’s not “splatterpunk enough.” I suppose the definition of splatterpunk is subjective, but I disagree whole-heartedly. This is a novel that revels in its unapologetic repugnance from beginning to end. I (at least like to) consider myself pretty unshakeable at this point, but honestly, this one pushes limits- it would probably kill off your grandma’s book club. It’s not a book that wowed me with its prose or stunned me with its character development, and that’s because it doesn’t aim to do that. This book relies heavily upon its shock factor, it depends pretty much entirely upon its perverse charm, and aims almost solely to repulse readers… and at least for me, it succeeded. If you know exactly what you’re going into, then you can’t steer too wrong.
That being said, I do think that the author veered too far down a bizarre tarot-crystal-holistic path. Perhaps this is due to my lack of spiritualism, but for me this created a lull in the whiplash pacing. I know I’d have preferred to continue reading about Jordan’s violent side-effects and the epic on-going conspiracy than be taught the intricacies of high-vibrational vegetables… but perhaps that’s just me. I can appreciate this as an effort to get me to think thematically, and come away having seen the bigger picture, but unfortunately this went over my head completely.
In conclusion though, “The Little Season,” is a bitter-tasting book that leaves no stone unturned and no stomach un-churned. Acrid, fetid, and rotten to the core, the faint of heart should tread carefully, and NOBODY should be reading this whilst eating.
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