Thank you NetGalley for this ARC!

No one--and I mean NO ONE--does body horror like Gretchen Felker-Martin does body horror. Chimera is an exquisitely disgusting adventure. Splatterpunk, fantasy, and gothic horror readers will eat this one up (like I did).

Heartfelt thanks to NetGalley and Tor Nightfire for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

A deeply felt, splatterpunk, and folklore-informed saga of blood, humanity, and violence on the scale of Euripides', Sophocles', and Aeschylus' best work. (I promise I did not use AI to write this review. Rather, much like the authors the robots cut their teeth on, I am drawn to lists of three and also adjectives.) Broader in scope than Felker-Martin's other novels, all of which I devoured as vociferously as a Skin Dancer, Chimera nevertheless remains grounded, thanks to a slew of toxic and tragic familial dynamics. The monstrous transformations and gang activity of the Vargers crime family are nothing compared to the domestic violence they enact upon their children, siblings, and in-laws.

Unlike Felker-Martin's Black Flame, Cuckoo, and Manhunt, Chimera doesn't give us a protagonist to root for, at least not in the traditional sense. I've come to know Felker-Martin's main characters as flawed folx, named monsters by society for the crime of queerness, but resplendently and defiantly human. Chimera is different. It is an undeniably queer novel, from its lore to its syntax to its mirrored literary devices. It is queer in its bones and in all of its many, varied skins; queer in ways that other similarly-labeled novels shrink from or flinch at. In this way, it fits neatly alongside Felker-Martin's other works. Yet, Chimera is also a departure.

As mentioned, this is an expansive tragedy, mythic in its scope, more aligned with a Nordic saga than a single text. Because of this, the strokes are broader; the characters, though finely wrought and fully fleshed, get less time to perform their vengeance and trauma. The closeness with which this author usually cleaves to their characters has been replaced with vignettes, little sips of poison, moments of reckoning that offer glimpses into the minds of four Varger women. The resulting effect is not a disjointed one, but one that nevertheless left me uncertain—of the ending, of motivations, of who was righteous and who was simply a hurt creature hurting other creatures.

I think perhaps this was the point.

I found myself feeling both bereft and triumphant at the end of this novel. I cannot recommend it enough.

My singular complaint: I would have loved a genealogical tree or chart to help me keep track of the expansive family.

A disgusting, incestuous Animorphs meets Sopranos. I really loved it.

I loved the body horror take on animal morphing, with visceral, gross-out descriptions that slotted perfectly into compelling, unique action sequences. The way Felker-Martin combined mob politics with fantasy horror action was really fantastic, and it's a combination that sounds really strange but works surprisingly well.

It's also full of characters who have...let's just say unhealthy relationship dynamics, in a wide assortment of ways, and while I could not relate to them whatsoever I found them interesting and at times sympathetic. It's a tightwire act that Felker-Martin nails.

This is an exceptionally dark and weird book, but also one of the most unique you'll ever read, and it's one I'm going to be thinking about for a long time.

This is a dark, gothic family-centric horror novel that pulls you in and really doesn’t let go until the very last chapter. I was entranced by the characters and their toxic relationships to each other. A family tree would have been extremely helpful in terms of understanding who is who and how everyone is related (cuz they’re all related). The incestuous connections are a bit confusing, but the overall story is easy to follow - a mafia family of animal eating shape shifters who slowly unravel through the course of the book. Power and family trauma are inextricably woven together and the whole book is just a chaotic ride as the family unravels. . I did enjoy the LGBTQ aspects of the book, but I wish the relationship between Rina and Wendy was more fleshed out. Overall, a fascinating and disturbing read!

Concept: Animorphs mafia AU where instead of fighting Yeerks, they fight each other.

A tightly woven intergenerational family drama about how we inflict our own trauma onto others in our quest to maintain power. The body horror is slow at first, taking a visceral look at the gruesome terror inherent in shapeshifting. The real horror, of course, is what people do to each other, especially when they stop thinking of themselves as people. Partly an indictment against families soaked in generational wealth and blood, partly a surprisingly compassionate look at what makes humans do inhumane things. The ultimate question is: could there ever have been another way?

Gretchen Felker-Martin has done it again: a book that is viscerally difficult to read in parts, but is compulsively readable. Characters are written to be despicable and empathetic in equal measure. There's a gross, grody, grimy quality to Felker-Martin's writing, where horror takes on an ecstatic sheen while intimacy is a monstrous weapon. It takes a lot of skill to walk that line and she's absolutely done it again. Felker-Martin is only getting better with every novel and I cannot wait to see how she disgusts and delights me next.