MEMORIALS

Three emotionally fragile college students head into the Appalachian wilderness to film a class project about roadside memorials.

Despite some fairly purposeful Blair Witch Project vibes and an atmosphere positively seething with menace, this slice of hillbilly horror has trouble sticking the landing. It’s a good premise, bordering on cliche: three students at Pennsylvania’s York College are teamed up in May 1983 by their eclectic American Studies professor Marcus Tyree to explore a topic of their choice related to American society. Our narrator is Billy Anderson, 19, an orphan traumatized by the death of his parents in a tragic accident, leaving him to be raised by his doting Aunt Helen. Troy Carpenter is curious but anxious, rattled by the death of his little brother in a drive-by shooting. Melody Wise is the oldest of the trio at 23, but is still reeling from the death of her mother. Their collective project is “Roadside Memorials: A Study of Grief and Remembrance,” a documentary for which the students plan to investigate these memorials and interview survivors, starting with Billy’s parents and their memorial in Sudbury, Pennsylvania. Other than an abundance of accidents, their subjects seem ordinary but the omens and totems that start appearing are anything but. Among these are an ominous hitchhiker, a flat tire, a dead animal, and a common symbol appearing on each memorial—all escalating events that lead to bloody and unexpected consequences. At first, the setup seems a little Scooby-Doo, replete with small-town secrets, concealed identities, and the odd unmasking. Our three leads are very likeable, but their bickering can lean towards the soap-operatic. Thankfully, Chizmar, a veteran at writing pedestrian horror in the vein of his occasional co-author Stephen King, gives the story enough of a whiff of the otherworldly, complete with an evil cult, to keep readers on edge before some late-stage twists strain the book’s hard-won authenticity.

A pulpy, peek-between-your-fingers look at small-town America, powered by real grief.