I finished Crone by Keith Rosson tonight.
The last thirty percent was read in a hunting blind with my son, and honestly, I can’t think of a better way I could have finished it.
It’s been a tough week. I was tired. But I was invigorated by this. Sitting beside him, watching and waiting, Kindle in my hands.
Keith Rosson is ridiculously delightful to read. Like Coffin Moon, his writing grabs me immediately and just moves. It’s earthy and wild and fucked up; and completely unburdened by any ‘trying too hard’ vibes. This story has grit, and the prose has that same vibration to it. It pulled me along with ease. Somehow, he can describe a completely “…batshit supernatural thing…” happening and make you see exactly what he means.
And of course, underneath the dirt and insanity is a story about what people will do for the ones they love, and how badly we sometimes need answers. Daughter. Father. Parenthood. Life. Rosson keeps the story tethered to things that actually hurt: family, addiction, loss and love. We all know these matter so much, and they increase the emotional stakes of the story, especially in a world that has gone completely off the rails.
So there I was, sitting in the woods with my son, smelling moss and the damp rot of the forest floor, reading electrifying horror about people hunting for clues, answers, justice, peace.
There was something about that combination that made the whole experience feel… big. Maybe it was the woodsy atmosphere of the whole thing, witchy story included. Nothing particularly dramatic happened. I suppose it was a rather small thing. We were just hanging out there. He was hunting. I was reading. We were together.
But I loved it.
And yes, I’m grieving it.
Oh, the things we have to hold at once as a parent.
Maybe that’s what I want to remember about this particular reading experience. That Crone was fucking awesome. That it spoke, in its strange and terrifying way, to raising a child from infancy to however long we get to have them. That Rosson continues to be an author whose books leave me craving the next one.
But no. It’s not that at all. Not even close.
I simply want to hold tightly to this moment. To the few hours spent listening to heavy drops of rain while watching deer pass by with my son. That’s it.
Horror in my hands.
A kid beside me.
The woods growing dark and cool, the slow decaying earth around us.
A really great Friday night.
“Everything matters.”
I received an advance e-copy of this book from NetGalley for review consideration. All opinions are my own.
Leave a Reply