SACRIFICIAL ANIMALS

A Nebraska family’s unquenchable violence is interrupted, then accelerated, by a femme fatale.

This incantatory debut builds menace from its opening phrase: “Moonlight slashes open the boy’s face.” The boy, Nick Morrow, is indeed menaced—and beaten—by father and brother; mom is killed off in childbirth in the second paragraph. Nick is trapped on his family’s “one thousand acres of rich loam atop the Ogallala Aquifer,” a place called Stag’s Crossing, thanks to the stag’s head perched on the front gate. It’s just the first decapitation featured in this grisly and relentlessly readable horror story. The author toggles 40 staccato chapters, each titled “Then” or “Now,” shifting between Nick’s adolescence and an excruciating time three decades later. The patriarch, Carlyle Morrow, possessing “a violence keen and beautiful as the silver curve of a fishhook,” has engineered a ruse to bring home his two estranged middle-aged sons. The favored older, Joshua, brings Emilia, his “high-strung, unintimidated” Asian American wife; Joshua’s choice of her ruptured Carlyle’s hold on his offspring. Now, thanks to the shocking and unnatural nature of Emilia, the Morrow patrimony of cruelty, wielded “with an ancient and primeval ecstasy,” will climax. And when it does, the author—who was adopted from Nanning, China, onto a Nebraska farm—is merciless. She writes with a rare acuity, bending her language toward fable, salting it with words like “demesne,” “eidolon,” and “sinfonietta.” She is excellent at blurring the animal and human, even as her unbroken tone lacks the quotidian details that can relieve and ratchet horror. Still, few readers are likely to quit before the final chapter, “Then & Now.”

An assured and bloody fable heralds the arrival of a gifted new voice attuned to ancient modes of damnation.