By Jim Mcleod 
Small-Town Secrets and Supernatural Terror: A Review of Abigail F Taylor’s Maryneal 1962
Abigail F Taylor’s first novel, Maryneal 1962, is a powerful mixture of supernatural horror, personal coming-of-age narrative, and sharp social critique. Set in a seemingly perfect American farming town during that year, the book skillfully contrasts the oppressive uniformity of the early 60s with the rise of primal, monstrous elements. Sixteen-year-old Delah Nix, warned by a fortune teller at a traveling carnival about looming evil, initially brushes off the prophecy as mere theatrics, only to witness the brutal murder of her sister Kitty on their way home. This leads to a chilling examination of grief, repressed longing, and the horrifying results of hidden secrets simmering beneath a community’s calm exterior.
Maryneal 1962‘s triumph lies in its richly drawn protagonist, Delah. Taylor eschews horror tropes to craft a deeply authentic teenage voice grappling with unimaginable trauma. Delah’s narration captures the complex dynamics of a family shattered by loss, the awkwardness of burgeoning adulthood, and the suffocating expectations of small-town life in 1962. Her journey is not merely one of survival against a supernatural threat, but a painful awakening to her own identity.
Crucially, Taylor weaves in Delah’s dawning realisation of her attraction to her friend Barbie, a subplot handled with remarkable sensitivity and historical authenticity. This exploration of queer desire in a deeply conservative era adds profound emotional weight and complexity, moving beyond mere representation to become integral to Delah’s sense of isolation and her fight for a future beyond Maryneal’s confines.
The horror element hinges on Delah’s childhood friend, Hardy, bitten during the attack that killed Kitty. His subsequent development of superhuman abilities, speed, heightened senses, initially thrills him, but Delah perceives the darker undercurrent: a growing bloodlust targeting livestock and an alarming shift in his personality. Hardy becomes a tragic figure, a boy seduced by power yet struggling against an inevitable, terrifying transformation. Taylor skillfully builds tension around the agonising choice Delah faces: find a cure for Hardy before the next full moon, or kill him to protect the town and the girl they both love. This moral dilemma fuels the novel’s suspense and elevates it beyond a simple monster story.
Taylor excels at evoking the period and place. Maryneal feels tangibly real, a community where everyone knows everyone, gossip spreads like wildfire, and social pressures are immense. The arrival of the carnival pulsates with excitement and a faint unease, masterfully capturing adolescent wonder before shattering it with violence. The author doesn’t romanticise 1962; instead, she exposes the era’s pervasive prejudices. This historical grounding provides a fertile backdrop for the supernatural horror, making the monstrous eruption feel like a manifestation of the town’s repressed fears and injustices.
Maryneal 1962 is also a powerful study of grief. Taylor dedicates significant space to depicting the crushing aftermath of Kitty’s death—the numbing shock of Delah’s family, the awkward condolences, the suffocating silence of loss. This emotional honesty deepens the horror; the supernatural threat gains potency because it invades a world already profoundly wounded. Delah’s struggle isn’t just against a beast, but against the consuming void left by her sister, making her resolve all the more compelling 6.
Taylor employs classic werewolf mythology but filters it through a character-driven lens. The horror arises less from graphic spectacle (though the climax delivers visceral terror) and more from the dreadful anticipation of Hardy’s transformation and the ethical quagmire it creates. The slow burn of the first half, focusing on character development and the town’s reaction to the murder, pays dividends in the second half. As the full moon approaches and Hardy’s control frays, the pace accelerates relentlessly towards a climactic confrontation that is both emotionally devastating and cathartic.
Just like Shirley Jackson, Taylor skillfully taps into the unique fears that can arise in domestic spaces and close-knit communities. Similar to Ken Kesey, she dives into the darker sides of individuals who are pushed to their limits by societal expectations. However, what makes this book stand out from other classics of its time is its focus on a young woman’s awakening in the midst of supernatural horror, all while engaging thoughtfully with queer identity during a repressive period. It feels fresh and relevant for today’s readers, yet is firmly grounded in its time.
Taylor’s writing is both confident and vivid. She paints beautiful pictures of the rural landscape, captures the lively energy of the fair, and builds a sense of creeping dread throughout Maryneal that truly pulls you in. The dialogue flows naturally, reflecting the speech patterns of teens from that era without sounding outdated. The first-person perspective makes the story feel personal and engaging, letting readers fully connect with Delah as she navigates her thrilling journey.
“Maryneal 1962” is not just a captivating horror novel; it’s also a heartfelt exploration of grief, identity, and the allure of the forbidden. Abigail F. Taylor shows impressive skill in balancing character growth with rising supernatural suspense, all while offering keen social insights. Delah Nix is a memorable protagonist, and her bravery, struggles, and journey towards self-discovery deeply resonate. The novel’s strength lies in this wonderful mix: a poignant look at loss, an effective horror storyline, and a thoughtful portrayal of a young woman confronting her truth in chilling circumstances.
Taylor doesn’t just deliver scares; she delivers a story that claws at the heart and mind.
Maryneal 1962 by Abigail F Taylor
Warned by a soothsayer at a traveling fair that something evil is about to come to Maryneal, sixteen-year-old Delah Nix chalks it up to carnie theatrics and ignores the woman’s suggestion to leave before dark. But then her sister is savagely attacked on their way home, and her murder leaves the small farming community stunned. The authorities scramble to place the blame on a deranged man, the carnival workers, and even the nearby Indigenous community.
Delah, however, starts to suspect that something supernatural is afoot when a childhood friend, bitten in an attempt to save Delah’s sister, gains powers and a thirst for the county’s livestock. As much as he is enjoying his super speed and perfect hearing, Delah senses there will come a point of no return and begins to desperately search for a way to save her friend before he hurts himself or the girl they both love. With the full moon approaching and no salvation in sight, Delah is faced with an unconscionable decision: If she can’t find a cure, she’ll have to kill the boy next door.
Further Reading
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Melody E. McIntyre 
Tony Jones