Clairviolence: Tales of Tarot and Torment Review

Special thanks to Tenebrous Press for the ARC copy they provided.

Clairviolence instantly grabbed me and dragged me into a twisting corridor where behind every door was another grotesquerie. Another unexpected something that wrapped me in its filaments and refused to let me go unchanged. Mo Moshaty has created a panorama of horror and scintillating fascination, each story its own dark fragment, and I am more than grateful to have been able to read an ARC of this book.

It has been some time since I read my last anthology, and I’d forgotten how entrancing they can be. Mo Moshaty has given me one hell of a reminder.

Clairviolence starts with “The Fever Man,” a tale of two people in love losing the life they’ve built for themselves, bit by bit. First their baby, then themselves. Until the ultimate twist at the end that has still left me wondering what is true and what is the fever dream.

Next up is “Magic Hour,” and I still haven’t recovered from the narrator losing pieces of themself, until they finally succumb to the magic hour of dusk. Though I have to say, there are times we all thank the gods for the busy bodies. That line, like many others in this book, resonated with me and has refused to leave my mind.

Comparatively, “Surface” felt like a blood-tinted dream where pain hinges the edges, but underneath is a vast calm and serenity. Of all the stories in Clairviolence, this was one of the few that didn’t leave me feeling shuddery.

Where this collection really captured me, though, was with “The Severity of Things.”

Up until this story, the collected works had been relatively short and I passed through them, barely noticing they were there, just as they barely seemed to notice I was there in turn. But once I delved into “The Severity of Things,” I at once had the feeling that here, here was the beginning of the book and I was in it at last.

In some ways, “The Severity of Things” sets the tone for Clairviolence and it still hasn’t taken its claws out of me.

Following this tone setter comes “I Wish I Could Grow Plants,” a short little looping nightmare that honestly has not much to do with plants. I’ll let you read it for yourself.

When “Dandelion Wine” comes up it smacks you upside the head and invites you to drink the herbicide and listen to the radio. This is another tone setting piece that I just can’t shake. Especially with the bit of history thrown in. It is a slice of cake and I love it.

“Stained Glass” creeps in next with unsettling fingers and taps on the glass. Sorrow is the best way I can describe the particular kind of disturbing this story serves. Sorrow and squeamishness.

And then comes “Shallow.” If you like ghost stories wrapped up with revenge, “Shallow” will sink into you and pull you under.

Then “The Human Seed” will leave you wondering about the state of the world and our future, while “Mourning Cloak” considers what we will do for what we want most and just how much we’re willing to give to get it.

And at the end comes “Rumpus,” where two monsters meet. If “The Severity of Things” and “Dandelion Wine” set the tone for Clairviolence, “Rumpus” leaves the collection at just the right ledge of twisted horror. I’ll let you read it, but believe me, you won’t regret it.

Welcome to Clairviolence: Tales of Tarot and Torment. You may never leave.