Chuck Wendig revisits the horror genre in Black River Orchard, a story spurred by an obsession with heirloom apples and the discovery of a handwritten note in his couch cushions that bore the names of three demons. This hefty, well-paced novel moves from creeping parenthetical dread to stomach-turning gore ("now a flesh-kite of a man stretched wide, a syrup-slick patch of raggedy meat putty"), while showcasing fraught relationships and the harm of pursuing power.
In a lesser writer's hands, the extensive cast of characters could prove too much to follow: Dan chases, at any cost, dreams of an orchard; Calla, his daughter, counts down to Princeton; Emily's marriage is failing; Joanie lists her home on Airbnb for those interested in BDSM; and John seeks rare apple trees. But Wendig (Dust & Grim; Invasive; Zeroes) carries readers with ease. A tree in a dead orchard is grafted with ill-gotten scionwood; an association maintains a ritualistic chokehold on a Pennsylvanian community; a body is found in the river; and a new stall appears at the farmer's market. One bite of a red-black apple transports eaters to bliss, and the second makes their eyesight a little better. Mouths perpetually water for more as obsession flourishes, and related oddities turn sinister. Delightfully titled short chapters become longer sections that shuffle snippets of fear and carnage like a deck of cards, barreling toward an upsetting yet satisfying ending. Wendig underpins his horror with complexity and depth, evoking the dichotomy of violence and peace as deftly as he deals out squelching innards in a novel that will satisfy diehard horror fans and dabblers alike. --Kristen Coates, editor and freelance reviewer