Heather Davey’s The Memory Tree binds two timelines to one ancient yew in a Dorset village where memory refuses to stay buried. A strong Gothic folk horror built on grief, ritual and creeping unease, even if the final reveal is less sure than the long build.
Tom B Stone
Tom B. Stone is not his real name. In fact, there is a reasonable chance that Tom B. Stone is not anyone’s real name.
The person lurking behind the pseudonym reviews horror for Ginger Nuts of Horror and has gone to increasingly ridiculous lengths to ensure their true identity remains buried deeper than the final reel of a cursed VHS tape. Bribes, disguises, burner phones, false moustaches and legally questionable witness-protection arrangements have all been rumoured. None can be confirmed. Tom would like to keep it that way.
What can be confirmed is an unhealthy enthusiasm for horror fiction, haunted houses, things that should probably stay buried, and books capable of ruining a perfectly good night’s sleep. Tom approaches reviews with a sharp eye, a dry sense of humour and the firm belief that even the darkest horror deserves the occasional terrible pun.
Authors seeking revenge for a bad joke are advised not to bother looking. Publishers attempting to discover Tom’s real identity have already been added to a list.
Tom B. Stone exists.
Who is underneath?
Nice try.