My Swordhand Is Singing (review)

Peter has had a difficult life with his darkly mysterious, alcoholic father, Tomas. The seventeenth-century Eastern European countryside, where they eke out an existence, is equally harsh and unforgiving, and Peter's life consists of endless days of trying to chop enough wood to survive and struggling to keep his mercurial father alive and uninterested in beating him. Cruelties unknown even to Peter, however, are unleashed on the small village nearby when the previously dead come back, unnaturally powerful and seeking victims. Suddenly, Tomas' secret past becomes urgently important, as his ownership of the perfect weapon to combat them is desperately challenged by other ancestors who grow frustrated with his refusal to use it, and the undead themselves, who seek to destroy it. Although Tomas' heroic actions cost him his life, Peter is finally left with answers, the peace of knowing that his father loved him, and an innate gift he will now use to quell evil and unrest outside of his comforting but constricting small village. Although the characters are all well developed, it is the setting itself that emerges as strikingly memorable: the atmospheric creepiness is established as much in the endless woods, spare and dark-cornered graveyard, and the small island futilely built by Tomas to protect them as it is in the lurching menace of the bloodsucking, rotting undead or the superstitious desperation of the townspeople. An author's note explains Sedgwick's compilation of details from many early vampire legends as well as the places where he created elements to form this haunting story. The trim size and effectively taut pacing make an ideal combination for reluctant readers who don't mind a bit of gore, and the topic will easily find a home with horror and supernatural fans as well.