Fried Green Tomatoes and Steel Magnolias meet Dracula in this Southern-flavored supernatural thriller set in the ’90s about a women’s book club that must protect its suburban community from a mysterious and handsome stranger who turns out to be a blood-sucking fiend.

Patricia Campbell had always planned for a big life, but after giving up her career as a nurse to marry an ambitious doctor and become a mother, Patricia’s life has never felt smaller. The days are long, her kids are ungrateful, her husband is distant, and her to-do list is never really done. The one thing she has to look forward to is her book club, a group of Charleston mothers united only by their love for true-crime and suspenseful fiction. In these meetings, they’re more likely to discuss the FBI’s recent siege of Waco as much as the ups and downs of marriage and motherhood.

But when an artistic and sensitive stranger moves into the neighborhood, the book club’s meetings turn into speculation about the newcomer. Patricia is initially attracted to him, but when some local children go missing, she starts to suspect the newcomer is involved. She begins her own investigation, assuming that he’s a Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy. What she uncovers is far more terrifying, and soon she–and her book club–are the only people standing between the monster they’ve invited into their homes and their unsuspecting community.

Thank you so much to Edelweiss for the opportunity to read this ARC! I first saw the cover on Instagram, and before I even knew who wrote it, I knew I had to read it. The title alone drew me in; I grew up obsessing over vampires, so much so that I was one for Halloween six years in a row. I’m also from Alabama, which is a quintessential fictional southern state, a la Fried Green Tomatoes. Then I noticed the art. Something about the imagery of fang marks on a ripe peach hyped me up, but the greatest discovery came when I looked beneath it all and saw the name Grady Hendrix. I’ve spent the last year reading his works, of which my favorite has always been Horrorstor, but after finishing Southern Book Club, I can say it has been replaced. Hendrix has created a vampire story unlike any I’ve ever read, but beyond that, he has immortalized the iron will and lion’s heart of southern women.

I mention this in many of my reviews, but I am a sucker (pun INTENDED!) for novels with unique and interesting lore. Hendrix took vampires of old and handpicked enough telltale signs for our heroines to see their mysterious neighbor for what he was, but gave him some new and traumatizing additions. One of these is a proboscis-like appendage that he feeds with instead of the romanticized fangs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame. James Harris is a compelling villain, and I found myself attempting to resist his charm as much as the ladies in the Old Village did. That being said, I loved the fact that the women were eventually able to see through his veneer, whereas the men in the story fell for this man hook, line, and sinker. It speaks to the innate greed and hunger for power these characters felt, while their female counterparts struggle with self respect, individuality, and regret. This book is set in the 90s, my birth decade. A good bit of time has passed since then, but women are still working their way out from under the shadow of men. I thought this story did a beautiful job of showing this constant battle, and Hendrix did right by the women in his life.

I can’t express how lovely the relationships between these characters were. The women are all a pack of stone cold weirdos, and I felt right at home with them. I could see myself in Grace’s living room, eating a cheese plate while discussing the Manson murders. I could feel Slick staring at me, trying to decide whether or not she wanted to ask me to go to church with her on Sunday. I could hear Kitty’s laugh, could smell Maryellen’s perfume. But most of all, I could feel Patricia’s discontent. Her life was nothing like she thought it would be, but she found solace within her circle. In the end, they truly may have saved each other from a supernatural monster, but underneath it all, they also saved each other from the caged lives they had been living. There is so much character growth that happens within these pages. These women are so diverse and each have something in their lives that they wish they could change, and their weekly book club gives them a chance to escape it all. Even between spooky parts, this novel held my attention because I genuinely cared for these women.

Speaking of spooky parts, Hendrix delivers yet another tale that will keep me up at night. Whether it’s vermin, corpses, stalking, or having your ear gnawed on by an old lady; this book has a fear for everyone. My jaw was on the floor multiple times, and just as soon as I’d pick it up, my skin would prickle in gooseflesh at something else. I was literally on the edge of my seat as I waited to see if the women would get caught, namely Patricia, as they snuck around doing detective work. I cringed at the body horror and reveled in the mastery Hendrix shows in his craft. I know it’s early in the year, but this may well be my favorite of the genre for 2020. It is a compelling horror story and does not rely on any gimmick or cheap thrill to get its scares. It is a perfect addition to Hendrix’s glowing repertoire, and I would recommend this to any of my friends who are as obsessed with horror as I am, but even those who aren’t. At the end of the day, this is about a group of nice southern ladies, but as Slick says– there ain’t nothin’ nice about southern ladies.

5/5 stars