Direwood Has a Great Premise but Lackluster Execution

Page Street Kids

Slow-burn horror is a tricky subgenre to master. When done right, it builds up enough tension to keep the audience invested and doesn’t need to rely on traditional gimmicks, like jump scares or shock value. When done less well, you’re left with maybe a few good ideas that are caught in a net of drawn-out boredom and slight irritation. Catherine Yu’s debut novel, Direwood, has a great premise and starts off interesting; unfortunately, the longer it takes to get to the climax, the more it drags its feet, until not even the scariest bits are worth sticking around for.

Direwood is set in 1990s Michigan and centers on Aja, a Chinese American teenager living in the small all-white town of Glen Hills. While her sister, Fiona, has managed to fit in and win over their judgmental neighbors, Aja has always felt second best and out of place, even in her own family. When Fiona and a few other local teenagers disappear, Aja seems to be the only one who wants to acknowledge that something strange may be happening, and her fears are confirmed when a vampire named Padraic lures her out to the woods, where some of the other missing teens are already falling under his control and that and his partner, Kate. Aja must decide if finding her sister is more important than her growing feelings for Padraic, because she might just pay for it with her life.

The first chapter is the strongest of the entire novel, perfectly setting up the dynamic Aja faces with her family and the rest of Glen Hills. The rain falling outside is clearly red, there’s a strange fog surrounding the nearby forest, and insatiable white caterpillars are eating their way through everything they come across. To the reader and to Aja, something is clearly wrong, but when she tries to mention it, she’s either ignored or given a paper-thin excuse. She’s expected to stay quiet and enjoy Fiona’s 17th birthday party despite the blood-red rain continuing to fall and the giant caterpillar that bursts out of the cake and scurries away. This ties in to the overarching theme of the family being the sole one of color in an all-white small town, and how hurtful and frustrating it is to constantly keep up appearances. Aja knows that no matter what her family does, they’ll be judged and always seen as “other”; even Fiona, seemingly perfect and happy, is still held to these standards, despite being so well loved.

Things quickly go downhill once Padraic takes Aja through the fog and to an abandoned church, which is teeming with the same white caterpillars and their adult counterparts—blood-sucking butterflies. The story feels like it grinds to a halt the longer Aja is here. Her focus on finding Fiona waxes and wanes, but her main objective becomes trying to bring out any lingering humanity in Padraic. Her inner monologue is a tedious cycle, broken up only by repetitive conversations and Aja remaining maddeningly dense every time Padraic showcases just how dangerous he is. Even the caterpillars and butterflies become uninteresting, descriptions of them cropping up almost every other sentence and lessening their impact as a result.

The relationship between Aja and her best friend, Mary, another key player in the story, was also a sticking point for me. Their friendship is an extremely toxic one: Mary is unsympathetic and abrasive, berating Aja for being gullible and dependent, while Aja insists that Mary won’t let her be her own person. They’re able to stop bickering when things get dangerous, but it’s not enough to justify rooting for them to reconcile, because all they have in common is their mutual animosity.

There’s not much more to say that won’t spoil the ending, which is where the book finally picks up momentum, but it doesn’t quite stick the landing. Yu has potential to write a great horror story, but the novel doesn’t warrant its length (just shy of 300 pages) with how little happens and how repetitive it is. That said, although Direwood may not have been enjoyable, Yu definitely has the right idea when it comes to effective horror—which is why I’ll be locking my doors and side-eying every caterpillar I may come across in the future.

Direwood is out now from Page Street Publishing.