We Are All Completely Fine

Daaaaaaamn, son. Just... damn.

And hooray! The first Nebula nominee this year that is (1) completely unknown to me, and (2) now on my “must read everything else by author” list.

So, this story was freaky as hell. And it completely wasn't up my alley, at all, since it brushed dangerously close to that awful sub-genre of horror: torture porn. That is, the characters in this story are all recovering from awful traumatic experiences that wouldn't sound out of place in Silence of the Lambs. But - how to put this? - this was maybe the most charmingly written and unexpectedly humorous quasi-torture porn I can imagine.

It was also layered with a sci-fi/fantasy element that was “supernatural” without being cheesy and included, hooray, monsters! It also included another trope I always find amusing: the therapy session-as-flashback-exposition gimmick (used so well, for example, in Fred Pohl's Gateway).

Anyway, the plot centers around a kind-hearted psychologist getting together a new group therapy group. Reminiscent of that forgotten comedy classic from the 80s, The Dream Team (just me?), this is a motley crew trope (another fave!). There's Harrison, the seeming protagonist and former teen monster detective (if there was ever a 80s movie waiting to be made...), covered in hideous scars. There's Barbara, the pantsuit-wearing soccer mom (also covered in hideous scars). There's Martin, the dude who never takes off his Google Glass (because of hideous scars?!). And then there's young, manic pixie nightmare girl Greta - yes, she is also covered in hideous scars, and this becomes a major plot point. Oh yes, and there's Stan, the old guy who was a victim of semi-cannibalism (!).

I was veeery wary of this story once it started, since I had trouble handling the implied gore and grotesquerie (even if, thankfully, it was all basically off-screen). I was also reading it with the lights off late at night - big mistake. But the writing - which was full of frothy, casual wit - kept me coming back, and I ended up laughing and basically being, like, wow, fun novella! It was similar, in many ways, to RJ Astruc's The Perfume Eater (except way more grotesque).

A small voice in my head nagged at the troubling reinforcement of a bunch of tropes (beyond the ones I liked): handsome white male protagonist, goth version of the manic pixie dream girl, magical Middle Easterners and so on. But, oh Lord, Daryl Gregory's pen was so smart and self-reflective - these meta/implicit shortcomings are forgiven!

Edited to add: Gah! I just checked out the author's Twitter, and it turns out he's got a whole YA novel prequel about Harrison's teen monster detecting days out, like, today or something! Quick, someone buy those movie rights!!