At times during the COVID-19 pandemic, it felt like the world was ending. But what would a virus that could end civilization as we know it really look like? Lucy A. Snyder explores pandemic horror on a cosmic scale in Sister, Maiden, Monster, which came out from Tor Nightfire last month.
Just a few years after COVID-19 shook the world, a new pandemic has broken out: polymorphic viral gastroencephalitis, or PVG. Its symptoms are far from pleasant, described as “the stomach flu on nightmare mode,” but even scarier are the long-term complications that can develop after the initial infection. Those who have suffered from PVG are classified into different types depending on their post-infection status. Type Ones are the lucky ones who only ever had mild symptoms and completely return to normal upon recovery. Then there are those whose symptoms were severe enough to land them in the hospital and who wake up to discover that their body chemistry had irrevocably changed. No longer able to produce certain proteins needed for DNA repair, these patients must seek out the proteins by other means. Type Twos need proteins that are found in human blood, while Type Threes find themselves craving raw brains. The fact that Type Twos and Threes continue to be contagious—and that they may be prone to bouts of violence if their government-provided supplements aren’t enough or if they give into their urges—creates a huge stigma around those infected by PVG. When Erin is diagnosed as a Type Three, her dreams of a normal future of marriage and starting a family with her fiancé Gregory go instantly down the drain. Left to a life of complete isolation, social stigma, and government surveillance, Erin can’t help but be tempted by the opportunity for an illicit liaison with another infected woman. As the pandemic progresses, people start to feel its effects in new and unprecedented ways, including a sex worker who seems to be receiving psychic messages from gods beyond the stars and a cancer survivor who discovers strange new growths in her body…
Sister, Maiden, Monster is broken into three sections, told from the perspective of three different women, and which almost feel like three separate genres. Part One is a hyper-realistic pandemic sci-fi story that explores in detail how our society might try to apply the coping strategies we developed for the COVID-19 pandemic to a terrifying new virus. Though it quickly becomes clear that this is a vampire/zombie novel of some sort, those terms are never used and instead the virus is couched in plausible-sounding science. Erin navigates unclear protocols around masking, sanitizing, and social distancing; experiences a harrowing hospital stay; and is met with draconian restrictions alongside a complete lack of communication or compassion from the government and public health institutions. These topics may make this a difficult read for those who are not yet ready to see the coronavirus pandemic dealt with so directly in fiction, but it’s only a matter of time before our new anxieties around illness and infection worm their way into the general consciousness of horror fiction. Part Two of the novel takes a sudden left turn into Lovecraftian cosmic horror. I’m trying not to give away too many spoilers, but let’s just say that PVG stops feeling like an almost-plausible coronavirus parallel and more like a supernatural affliction engineered by outside actors. Part Three of the novel is a full-on apocalypse narrative told from the perspective of one of the few chosen survivors among humanity as she watches the world erupt into bloody chaos around her.
What I found most fascinating in this book is its exploration of monstrosity. In the first section of the novel, we get a unique incarnation of two of the most classic monsters from the horror genre: vampires and zombies. Yet it’s clear from the start that Erin is no monster. While she may have to supplement her diet with brain proteins, she’s still a relatable human with hopes, fears, and anxieties who was simply unfortunate enough to suffer from a biology-altering disease. The question of monstrosity becomes more complicated as the novel progresses and the virus starts to cause extreme physical transformations in its victims. Does someone become a monster once they no longer look recognizably human? What about when they start participating in the end of the world? Is it our appearance or our actions that make us monsters? And if we do monstrous things, but we’re not fully responsible for our own actions—are we monsters then? The end of the novel will leave you with plenty to chew on when it comes to ethics and morality in a cosmic horror setting.
Sister, Maiden, Monster is certainly the weirdest book I have read so far this year. I particularly enjoyed the slow-moving sci-fi horror element of the first section, but fans of cosmic horror will appreciate how swiftly the stakes are raised once the influence of otherworldly gods becomes apparent. You can find Sister, Maiden, Monster on shelves now at your favorite local retailer, or buy it online and support The Gothic Library in the process by using this Bookshop.org affiliate link. If you’ve read the book, be sure to let me know what you think in the comments!
Sounds a bit like Wild Cards. An interesting premise in the three part construction. Plausible sounding science feels a lot like well crafted props on a movie set: I find it adds significantly to the setting.